One Snowy Night Before Christmas (13 page)

“What do we do?”

“I guess we start watching it.” She sat at the desk and
turned on the monitor to the desktop computer then entered the same sequence of
numbers in the password prompt.

The screen saver vanished and he found himself looking at a
familiar Windows desktop wallpaper. She opened the security system’s program.
Its main screen showed the views of three cameras.

“When Walt had this installed, he thought it was the
greatest technological invention mankind had ever created.” She tossed him a
grin. “It’s designed for home users, but I have to admit, it works like a
charm.”

Jessie brought up view of the camera on the southeast corner
of the building, which looked over the driveway and street. “The system allows
you to set hot spots in the scene so you only record motion that passes into
one of those areas.” She pointed out the three yellow outlines on the image for
camera one. “He had a hotspot set for the sidewalk across the street.”

She double clicked a folder on the desktop. In it were three
subfolders where the video files for each camera were saved. She opened the
folder for camera one.

“That’s a lot of files,” Tom said when the folder showed an
immense list.

“But the date and time is incorporated into the file name,
and it’s already sorted in chronological order. And look, each file is only
around twelve seconds long. I’ll bet those are passing vehicles. The robbery
happened last night, so let’s start here.”

She highlighted a file time stamped 10:02pm and then clicked
on the folder’s options menu for “play all.”

For a good two minutes there was nothing but the blip of
passing cars that had activated the motion sensor. The camera picked up the
majority of the Texaco’s parking lot, the street, and several of the shops
across street. At ten o’clock the stores were closed, so there wasn’t much foot
traffic to activate the motion sensors.

A longer video showed a strolling couple who paused to look
at the window of the antique store, and then the jewelry store’s display. The
next file revealed the old man, walking slowly and carefully on the slippery
sidewalk.

“That’s Santa!” Amy said, pointing at the screen. His image
was small and the overall picture was grainy, but the image was definitely of
pudgy old Chris Kringle. His beard gleamed white in the night-vision’s greenish
picture.

The old man was almost at the door to the jewelry store when
he reeled back in surprise. He jumped like a horn had blared in his ear.

“The alarm must have gone off and frightened him.” Tom was
slightly embarrassed by the hopeful tone he heard in his own voice. Lord, he
truly did hope the old guy was innocent.

The glass pane shattered as something large came flying
through. The old man had slipped when he jumped and was cart-wheeling his arms
to maintain his footing. The next instant a figure in dark clothing vaulted
through the broken window and crashed into Kringle, knocking him down. A second
figure leapt through the window and ran past the fallen man. Tom caught a shiny
glint in the second thief’s hand that he dropped on Kringle. The footage was
gray and grainy and skipped a bit so it appeared jumpy, but there was no
mistaking the other two figures.

“Oh my God,” Jessie whispered. Her expression revealed the
awe, and Tom was sure, the heavy guilt at having condemned an innocent man. He
wasn’t as knowledgeable about criminal law as he was of family law, but he knew
Mr. Kringle could have been sentenced as long as five years if he’d been
charged with unarmed robbery.

There were only a few seconds of another recording where the
old man struggled to get off his back, flailing like a flipped-over turtle,
before the next recording showed a police car slide to a stop against the snow
piled in the gutter.

“He’s innocent,” Tom stated. That much was obvious.

“He is.” Jessie’s voice was soft with bewilderment, as if
she almost couldn’t believe what she saw with her own eyes.

“I told you so,” Amy blurted triumphantly. Tom cringed. It
would be many years before she truly understood the full impact of that phrase,
especially when used to smack someone in the face with it like that.

Jessie continued to stare at the screen as the videos became
longer, and were filled with bright flashing blobs of light that made it hard
to discern what was happening.

“We have to get this to the police,” he said gently.

Jessie nodded, but her expression was fast deteriorating.
She was near tears, he could feel it in his gut. What had she said to the old
man—or he to her—at the police station that had her stomping toward the door
with steam coming out of her ears?

“It’s all right.”

Her hands had fallen into her lap. He placed his hand over
the mouse and clicked the stop button on the media player program. “We’ll make
this right.”

“I don’t know that I can. I said some really horrible things
to him.”

Ah. Just as he’d suspected.

“He’s Santa. He’ll forgive you,” Amy stated with full
authority. There was a new tone of happiness in her voice as well, even though
she’d never doubted “Santa’s” innocence.

Jessie brushed a lock of Amy’s hair behind her ear. “I’m
glad to have been wrong about him,” she said. The strength had returned to her
voice.

“I’m glad to be right,” Amy said gleefully.

Jessie laughed even as she blinked away the tears she didn’t
want either him or his daughter to see. “You’re a smart girl.”

“I know.” Amy beamed. “I get gold stars in school.”

Tom swelled with pride. To think, this little angel was his.
“I think we’re all getting gold stars today,” he told his daughter. “Now let’s
go get Santa out of jail.”

Jessie’s guilt burned hot and bright. She’d called the old
man a “stinking piece of crap.”
Jeez
.

She still wasn’t happy about the fact he maintained he was
Santa, but who was she to condemn a person for being delusional? Actually he’d
never said he was Santa, he’d only said his name was Chris Kringle. When he was
in the hospital, it had been Amy who concluded he was Santa for herself. The
old man had only played along.

Entertaining a little girl’s fantasy wasn’t a crime, nor was
it an insult. Calling a person a stinking piece of crap was definitely an
insult.

Double jeez
. Jessie leaned back in the passenger seat
and closed her eyes. How could she be so rude to anyone? She was prepared to
eat crow for this one, and she wouldn’t blame him if he had a few choice things
to say in return.

It was nearly one o’clock when they stepped back through the
glass doors of the police station. Sheriff Adams was out, and it was Mike who
greeted them with a forced, barely-cordial smile.

“Jessie.” That stiff smile vanished as he turned to Tom.
“Mr. Dunham.”

“Mike, we need to talk to Sheriff Adams. The surveillance
camera at Walt’s Texaco caught the robbery last night. There’s footage of two
men running through the door and crashing into…Mr. Kringle.”

Mike cocked his head and gave her a skeptical look. “Are you
sure?”

She refrained from frowning. “Yes. I’m sure. I’ve emailed
the video clips to the address on his business cards. It’s from my personal
email, jessiejeff at yahoo dot com.”

He considered her for another long moment, as if he couldn’t
believe she was standing up for a Santa impersonator. “All right, have a seat.
I’ll go call him.”

They waited at the visitor benches, watching him through the
glass partitions of the sheriff’s office as he spoke into the phone. Five
minutes later he was back, still wearing that skeptical expression.

Jessie shot up from the bench. “Well?”

“All right, I told Sheriff Adams what you found. He’ll
review the video as soon as he gets back.”

“When?” Jessie demanded.

“He’s on a bear call with wild animal control at old lady
Willoughby’s, so no telling. He has to stay until he’s sure the property is
clear.”

“Kringle’s going to get released today, right?” Jessie
prompted, wanting assurance. The last thing she wanted was the local police
dragging their feet on this. The old man could get sick in their drafty jail,
die of pneumonia, and it would be all her fault. The least she owed him was the
effort to speed along his release.

“If your video proves what you say it does. Still, the
paperwork will take some time. Why don’t you come back in a few hours?”

“I want to see this guy out today,” Tom said firmly. “I’ll
represent him pro-bono, if need be.”

Mike frowned. “What kind of law did you say you practiced?”

“All kinds.”

Jessie wanted to kiss Tom, but even so she was starting to
feel defeated. After the way she treated Kringle, she felt like she should be
doing more.

“Come on, let’s get you some lunch. You haven’t had anything
to eat today,” Tom said. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed,
earning a scathing glare from Mike.

“I’m hungry, too,” Amy chimed in. She was as happy as could
be, knowing the man she believed to be Santa was innocent and soon to be
sailing around in his flying sled, delivering toys to kids everywhere. She had
no idea how wretched Jessie felt.

“Point me in the direction of the nicest restaurant in
town,” Tom said. “I’m taking my two favorite ladies out to a special lunch.”

As they walked out Jessie glanced back at Mike. He watched
them go with a smirk, having overheard heard that.

“Uh, that would be Marceau’s. It’s French. Will Amy eat
that?”

“Yeah!” Amy said, skipping through the snowy parking lot
back to the car, but Jessie doubted she even knew what French food was.

Marceau’s was crowded, but they were lucky enough to get a
window table overlooking the charming main street. Tom raised his eyebrows when
she ordered a glass of pinot grigio.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” She waited until the waitress had
left. “I can’t let my mother’s problem define me.”

He smiled. “That’s one of the things I love about you. You
have a clean, simple way of seeing things.”

She listened to Tom answer Amy’s seemingly endless
questions, remarking privately on what a good father he was turning out to be.
She thought back to the first night when, in so many words, he’d admitted he
was terrified of having responsibility of his daughter. When their food came,
he didn’t hesitate to help Amy cut her chicken Cordon Bleu into small pieces.
He’d come a long way in a few short days.

“Do you like it?” he asked her.

Amy nodded her head enthusiastically while chewing.

Tom was going back to Portland tonight. The only reason he
was still here was to make sure the old man was released from jail. A small
part of her wanted to ask him to stay again tonight—that this, of all nights,
was the one she couldn’t be alone.

But Jessie kept silent. That would be selfish. He’d told her
his secretary had bought and wrapped a bunch of presents for Amy, and if they were
going to keep up the charade that Chris Kringle really was Santa, she had to
find them in her new home on Christmas morning, just as he’d promised she
would.

They made a pretty picture—Tom, the clean-cut lawyer with
his chiseled good looks and Amy with her platinum blond hair and pixie face.
The little girl didn’t realize it, but she was on her way to a great future.
Tom would give her a safe, comfortable home, a privileged upbringing and a good
education.

Jessie glanced around the restaurant. It was decorated
beautifully, with shimmering ornaments and thick, fuzzy pine garland. It
smelled magnificent, a mixture of delicious food and fresh, piney Christmas
tree. Would she have noticed, let alone appreciated these things even two days
ago?

No. Tom, Amy, and this ridiculous “Santa” character had
opened her eyes to the spirit of the holidays.

She smiled as she remembered Mr. Kringle’s words.
What
have you ever done to help others?

Only hours ago she’d been insulted to hear a man she
considered a con artist to pose such a question of her. But in truth he’d hit
the mark with it. She had never done anything to help others, at any time of
year. If she hadn’t looked within herself, put aside her anger and summoned the
will to take that extra step, he would still be rotting in jail with the
evidence to clear him hidden on Walt’s security hard drive.

The thought was more than a little frightening. Had she
really been so callous and self-centered? To think, she might never have cared,
never have taken the effort, and Chris Kringle would be on his way to trial for
robbery.

She looked at Tom. He laughed as Amy dropped a noodle off
her fork. He looked up at her, a gleam of pure joy in his eyes, and returned
her secret smile. Had she helped him to see the value of having his child with
him, while at the same time he had taught her the value of trust…and opening
her heart?

She would miss him, she realized. That charming smile, those
brilliant blue eyes, his gentle touch. Not to mention his gorgeous physique and
the solid warmth of his body holding her through the night.

Being alone would feel so empty now that she realized what
it was like to have his masculine presence in her home. The joyous sound of
Amy’s little voice, the deep timbre of Tom’s. Nights alone would be so much
colder, now that she had been reminded how nice it was to share her bed with a
tender lover.

She finished her beef bourguignon and the three of them
shared a fat slice of double chocolate layer cake for dessert.

As they drove back to the station, Jessie almost found
herself excited to see the old man. Instead of dreading the humility, she was
eager to make her apology.

Amy took her hand and looked up at her as they walked
through the double doors to the station. In her eyes was trust and adoration.