Don't Open Till Christmas Page 20

  “Wild and erotic, no repercussions, no strings. Happy?”

  That was all.

  Noelle couldn’t prevent hot moisture from rising in her eyes as she realized the truth. Mark had given her what she’d wanted—what she’d demanded. And then he’d left.

  She couldn’t even muster up any anger because she knew better than to think this was a brush off. His final word made that clear. Without ever confronting her, or accusing her of a single thing, he was forcing her to evaluate every decision she’d made since the day they’d met. To decide if her short-term affair idea was truly what she wanted, or if, in the glow of a night like the previous one, she’d realized it couldn’t possibly be enough for them.

  Which meant she had some serious thinking to do.

  12

  MARK WASN’T FOOLISH ENOUGH to think Noelle would read his note Monday morning, decide she couldn’t live without him, follow him home and declare her undying love. No. He knew she was going to have to think things over, to figure out what she wanted and how she wanted to go after it. So he backed off, giving her some time and some space to do just that.

  Only, he hadn’t figured she’d need this much time. Days had passed and he hadn’t heard from her at all. It was early Friday morning, the day before Christmas Eve, and he hadn’t heard word one all week. If he hadn’t been so focused on the unexpected developments in the Santa robberies investigation, he’d have been climbing the walls.

  It was because of those developments that he’d refrained from going over to the shelter, or to Noelle’s apartment, and confronting her once and for all. Either that, or giving her damn video and sex toy another serious workout. Because the case had taken a strange turn, and, frankly, he wasn’t in a position to discuss it with Noelle yet.

  Not when she had a personal connection to the primary suspect.

  Stretching, he changed positions in his uncomfortable metal chair just thinking about Sunday night, as he had quite often in the past few days. Fortunately, Harriet didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy watching their latest witness go through a pile of flyers—searching for a familiar face—to pay attention to her desperate partner.

  “It was him,” the witness said. The woman worked as a receptionist at a local temp agency. That same agency had hired out the costumed Santa who’d robbed the department store a few weeks ago.

  They’d talked to this witness before, and she’d cooperated, going through books of mug shots. But it’d been a shot in the dark, just as it had initially been with the grocery store clerk. Now, however, they were no longer shooting blind.

  The woman tapped her finger on a picture in the corner of a color brochure. “I definitely recognize this guy. He looked too cute and skinny to want to play Santa Claus and I told him that when he applied.”

  Mark glanced down. Though not surprised by what he saw, he couldn’t prevent an internal grunt of disgust.

  Five of the flyers spread on the table in the interrogation room of the precinct were decoys. He and Harriet had gathered advertisements for businesses, tour companies, training academies—anything with decent color shots of the people involved. All to one purpose: to see if the witnesses would pick out anyone on the sixth one. The only one that mattered.

  And once again, it had worked. This woman had zoomed right in on the target. Just as the five other people they’d questioned over the past two days had done.

  Harriet met his eye and Mark nodded, displaying no overt reaction. They had the bastards, there was no doubt in his mind. Every witness—every interview—put another nail in the coffin of the prick they believed was behind this whole thing.

  He just still couldn’t believe who that person was.

  After escorting this latest witness out, Harriet returned to sit with him, and with the state police investigators who’d been assigned to work the case with them. Since the suspects resided outside Chicago, they’d brought in the state guys. Knowing just how small and close-knit the community under investigation was, they hadn’t gone to the Christmas police yet, planning to wait until the day of the search to prevent any possible leaks.

  “Is there any doubt at all now that we’ll be able to get a warrant to tear that school apart?” Harriet asked.

  Mark shook his head, as did the guys from state. With this many witness identifications, as well as the paper trail that linked one careless suspect who’d been dumb enough to use his real social security number back to the Santa college in Christmas, they had enough to go after the owners of that college.

  Jeremy Taggert and his father.

  He sighed heavily, wondering why he hadn’t seen the truth when he’d met the asshole face to face last week. The man had, after all, perfectly matched the description given to them by the grocery store clerk, the one who’d been the target of some sleazy pickup line by the costumed Santa. Sleazy. Definitely.

  The clerk had, in fact, been the one to break the case wide open Monday afternoon. She’d come into the station to try looking through more mug shots, though they all knew it was pretty useless. Sitting across from Mark and Harriet, the young woman had happened to notice the brochures for the Santa training school in Christmas lying on Mark’s desk…the ones Randy had given him Thursday night. Her mouth had dropped open in shock as she’d pointed directly at Jeremy Taggert, pictured with his father and some of their “students” in front of the school building. “That’s the guy. Definitely!” she’d said.

  Thinking about it, he and Harriet had quickly realized that the “Jerry” the clerk had heard coming out of the Santa’s bearded mouth had actually been “Jeremy.”

  From there, everything had fallen into place. With the flyers and a bunch of witnesses, they’d gotten IDs on four additional suspects, all of whom were pictured as students at the “Institute of Rotudifical Purveyors of Goodwill.”

  Yeah, they definitely had enough to obtain warrants on the school and pursue a serious investigation against its owners, and Mark was feeling damn good about it. There was just one problem…a big one. “I still don’t see the need to question former owners of the company,” he said, leaning across the table and staring at the lead guy from the state, and at Lieutenant Shaker, who’d entered the interrogation room. “Randy Halloran hasn’t worked with his uncle at the college in a year and a half. He left long before these crimes started.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d made the argument. Beside him, he could see Harriet watching impassively, voicing no opinion, though she knew why Mark was making the case. He’d told her about Noelle’s connection to everyone at the college, and she’d stayed quiet, letting him handle it his own way.

  “He was an officer of the business.”

  “So was his mother and another uncle, but they’ve all sold out to Ralph Taggert over the past few years,” Mark insisted. Then, knowing he needed to think clearly and speak calmly, he added, “Look, I’ve met Halloran. He’s completely invested in the inn he runs with his wife.” Thinking of Noelle’s charming cousin, he continued. “As for the wife—she’s on bed rest for a troubled pregnancy. I don’t see how bursting into her home the day before Christmas Eve is going to generate much goodwill and cooperation in the town.”

  The investigator was silent for a minute and Mark almost held his breath, hoping he’d made an impact. When the other man spoke again, he realized he had…but not as great a one as he’d hoped. “Okay, we don’t include the inn when we go to the judge this morning. But I do want to at least talk to Halloran.”

  Which, Mark realized, was as much of a concession as he was going to get. He only hoped it was enough to avoid any major difficulties for Noelle or her family.

  And that she’d forgive him for not warning her of what was about to happen.

  SUE HADN’T BEEN FEELING like herself for weeks, so she didn’t realize she was feeling worse until early Saturday afternoon. She was so tired, that was the problem—much too fatigued for someone who hadn’t been out of bed for two weeks.

  Missing the excitemen
t of the holidays, she had been lying in her room, listening to the chatter of their guests for the past several days. Randy and their few employees had done a great job taking care of the packed house, but this was the first year Sue was going to miss Christmas, and she wasn’t very happy about it. That old holiday excitement should have had her bouncing in the bed in anticipation of tomorrow—as much as a woman with forty pounds packed onto the front of her body could bounce. Instead, she lay lethargically in her mound of pillows, wondering why she felt a vague sense of unease. And why she could barely keep her eyes open.

  “Ready for a snack, sweetie?” Randy said as he entered the room.

  “Tea?” she asked wearily, unable to muster up any enthusiasm for one more cup of decaffeinated tea when she was dying for her usual blast of the real stuff.

  “Hot chocolate.”

  “Mmm,” she mumbled, smiling weakly at him as he carried the tray over. The man was trying so hard to make her happy. Beside the steaming mug was a little plate with some mini marshmallows, and a few graham crackers. “Liquid s’mores?”

  Nodding, he handed her the cocoa. But as she took it, Sue noticed that her hand was trembling. Some chocolaty liquid splashed out of the ceramic mug, splattering all over the saucer beneath it.

  “Babe, are you hurt? Did you burn yourself?” Randy asked, instantly taking the drink away and reaching for her hand.

  She shook her head, still staring at her fingers. They were fluttering, moving the tiniest bit. How funny. Because, as far as she could tell, she didn’t think she was moving them at all.

  “Sue?” he asked, raising his voice. “Honey, what’s wrong? You look so pale.”

  “Do I?” That was her voice, coming out of her mouth, yet it sounded so far away, like the muffled tones of a stranger speaking in her dreams.

  “I’m calling the doctor.” He reached for the phone.

  Sue said nothing, just watching him. Feeling so tired, so drained, she could barely lift her head to protest his bothering Dr. Franklin on Christmas Eve. Randy had to be calling the man at home, since his office would surely be closed today. But she couldn’t form the words to ask her husband not to do it.

  Randy spoke into the receiver for a moment, then, a little red-faced, he turned to her. “Honey, Dr. Franklin wants to know if you’ve had any more…spotting since that first incident.”

  Since she hadn’t been able to get up to visit the bathroom on her own today, doubting her legs would hold her, Sue couldn’t answer the question. With a helpless shrug, she tried to push at the heavy blankets and comforter which had been keeping her toasty warm.

  “Hold on,” Randy said. Setting the receiver down on the bedside table, he came to assist her, any embarrassment about helping her so intimately long since evaporated during her pregnancy. Once she was uncovered, she rolled carefully to her other side, shifting toward the edge of the bed. With her husband’s help, she should be able to get up.

  But as she slowly rose into a sitting position, she grew even more lightheaded—dizzy—as if she was floating. It was a strange, weightless sensation and for a moment she couldn’t move at all. Not to stand up, not to lie back down. She could only sit there, as if a great, heavy blanket was pressing on her, holding her down. She remained completely still.

  Until she saw the horror on her husband’s face.

  Looking down at the sheets and her own nightgown, Sue tried to understand the strange color. Red. All red. How funny. She’d thought the sheets were white.

  She couldn’t think about it for long because suddenly a loud, shrill noise filled her head, piercing and intrusive. Someone was screaming.

  It wasn’t until after she heard Randy shouting into the phone that Sue realized it was her.

  EARLY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Noelle continued with the nonstop activities that had been filling her every waking hour this week. The shelter was gaily decorated, filled with the smells of cookies and cinnamon, pine trees and poinsettias. Stacks of wrapped packages were hidden in the attic, and children were almost giddy with excitement.

  She’d never have predicted this three weeks ago when they’d been targeted by a vicious thief.

  The closer they’d gotten to the holiday, the more people had stepped up to help. They’d not only recouped all their losses from the robbery, they’d surpassed their original goal.

  She and Alice had just returned from Super Dave’s, where they’d bought the last of the toys they needed for the kids living here in the shelter. All the rest of the goodies had been purchased, wrapped, and delivered earlier this week to the grateful mothers making new lives for themselves elsewhere. Food, clothes, and gift certificates had accompanied each special delivery.

  Nodding in satisfaction, Noelle couldn’t help thinking it would be a merry Christmas for a lot of needy families, after all. The Christmas spirit seemed to have opened up many people’s hearts. Maybe, she acknowledged, even hers.

  When she hadn’t been working herself into near exhaustion all week, she’d been thinking about Mark. About what they’d shared Sunday night, and the feelings she’d allowed herself to develop for him.

  Love. She’d known it was love since last Thursday at the inn. But she hadn’t realized until the last day or so that it was the kind of love worth risking a broken heart for. As the days had gone on without Mark in her world—without his voice on the phone or his visits to the shelter, or his smile—she’d realized there wasn’t much she wouldn’t do to make things work with him.

  If only he felt the same way.

  She couldn’t help but think of him now, because at this very minute, the families in her care were sitting in the dining room, devouring the trayfuls of hot food Mark’s mother and brother Tony had brought over here. Cartons of it.

  Mrs. Santori had said she wasn’t so good with turkeys, but she thought the children might enjoy a good Italian holiday meal for Christmas Eve. So a dozen children were now happily slurping long strands of spaghetti and picking the “white stuff” out of some fabulous lasagna.

  They hadn’t been the only Santoris to visit the shelter today. Out back was the big wooden jungle gym Joe and five of his workers had put together this morning while the kids were out ice skating. She, Alice, Casey and the mothers were being extra careful to make sure the kids didn’t go out back for the rest of the day.

  “So, what have you decided about your trip?” Casey asked as she popped into the office. Noelle waved at her to quickly shut the door. She was sitting on the floor, putting some finishing touches on the packages the children had wrapped for their moms yesterday. They’d all made hand-prints in cement, and the office currently had tons of little flecks of white plaster all over the floor. But she didn’t care. It would be well worth it when the kids saw the happiness in their mothers’ faces.

  “I’m not sure,” Noelle replied, looking up at Casey as the girl plopped on the edge of the desk. Casey’s carrot red hair clashed with the red Santa hat on her head, but she looked so adorably happy, nobody really cared. “I’d decided last week that I really was going to go. Can’t get a refund on the ticket and I have the money for the hotel since we didn’t need it here. But then…”

  Then she’d started thinking seriously about the man she’d be flying away from if she jetted off to the Caribbean.

  “Then?”

  “Then I wondered if I’d be making a mistake.”

  Peeling the plastic off a candy cane, Casey popped it into her mouth and sucked on one end. “You don’t hate Christmas anymore, do you?” she asked with her mouth still wrapped around the peppermint stick.

  “Nah. I really don’t. I guess seeing the way complete strangers really came through for us when I thought they wouldn’t made me realize there are still some people out there who value the spirit of the season.”

  “Or it could be that you had your own personal supersized elf to give you lots of presents,” Casey said with a smirk.

  Noelle knew what she meant and was about to roll her eyes when she realized
Casey was no longer looking at her. She was staring at the door. Lifting her gaze and seeing Mark, she felt her heart thunk against her ribcage.

  “Gotta scoot,” Casey said as she hopped off the desk. “Have a good night, Noelle.”

  Dry-mouthed, she nodded, then looked at the handsome man watching her silently from a few feet away. Mark’s big form ate up a lot of space in the office, and his presence even more of it. His hair was windblown, his face reddened from the cold outside air, and his green eyes glittered as he raked a thorough look over her, as if to catalog any changes. “I need to talk to you.”

  She taped the final bow on one package and slowly rose from the floor. “Yeah. I guess I need to talk to you, too.”

  No, she hadn’t figured on having this conversation here. She hadn’t been exactly sure where she wanted to be when she told Mark she’d fallen in love with him and wanted to give them a chance at a real relationship. But she knew she didn’t want to wait any longer. Not with Christmas just a few hours away.

  Not when she had finally found something fresh and new and wonderful to look forward to in the holiday.

  “We’ve found the suspects involved in the Santa robberies.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise. She hadn’t exactly been expecting declarations of undying love. Nor, however, had she been expecting Mark to go into cop mode right now, when they hadn’t seen each other in five days. “I’m glad,” she murmured. “I hope the bastards get a lot of jail time.”

  Striding toward the window to look outside, Mark thrust a hand through his hair, sending it tumbling even more wildly over his brow. “They will, I’m sure. But there’s more.”

  Sensing by the clipped tone that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say, Noelle slowly lowered herself onto the sofa. “Tell me.”

  He slowly turned around to watch her through hooded eyes. “We have a lot of witnesses who’ve connected the crimes to the Santa College in Christmas.”