The Kid Who Stole Christmas (13 page)

Still, Lyon’s did more than survive, it prospered, in part because of its loyal customer base. A product bought at Lyon’s came with a guarantee beyond that of the manufacturer. Pop was fond of saying that it was a difference in philosophy.

But where Arnies were concerned, loyalty and philosophy seemed to have gone out the window. So, evidently, had decency.

“Oh, brother!” Shannon exclaimed quietly. “Look at that.”

Rick had already spotted the sign hung prominently over the toy department sales counter. He read it aloud. “If it’s an Arnie you need, for Timmy or Sue, by hook or by crook, Bayer’s will get one for you.”

“I guess that article didn’t faze them,” Shannon said.

“Hardly.” Rick shook his head in disbelief. “And Pop wondered why Lyon’s was chosen as the sole distributor. Man! That steams me! It’s like they’re thumbing their noses at us.”

“They are. And unless we can find Leo, we’ll have to pucker up.” Shannon was looking around the toy department, checking out the competition. Suddenly, she grabbed Rick’s arm. “I think we just got the break we’re looking for.”

“What?”

“Who,” she corrected. “That clerk. He did some part-time work for me a while back. But he needed a full-time job and I just didn’t have an opening for him. Shame, too. He’s a real nice guy.”

Rick was still perturbed by the sign. “Then what’s he doing working in a garbage dump like this?”

“Making a living,” Shannon returned dryly. “But I’ll bet he’ll be more open about this dump than those other stiffs. Maybe you’d better look around, or something, divert attention from me while I have a word with him.”

“That’s me, just a momentary diversion. How big a fire do you want me to start?”

“Tempting,” Shannon said. “But just ask that other clerk to show you a slime gun, or something.”

She left him to his own devices and went to talk to her former employee. Rick didn’t want to see another slime gun, but there were some very interesting dolls in a locked glass case that he wanted to get a better look at.

He always sent a gift to Chelsea on her birthday and for Christmas. Angela probably just threw the presents away, or told her they were from someone else, so Rick knew he was really doing it more for himself than his daughter. But he had to try to stay in contact somehow, even if Chelsea didn’t know about it.

Pop was right to make him get some fancier clothes. If he’d been wearing his faded jeans, he doubted the clerk would have let him near the expensive, computer-controlled doll. As it was, the man opened the case, handed Rick one, then went to help someone else. Since the clerk wasn’t paying any attention to Shannon and the other salesperson, Rick figured he had diverted as much attention as was necessary, and turned his to checking out the doll.

It was okay, he supposed, but in his opinion, overwrought. Turn it on and it behaved as much like a real baby as was technologically possible at the moment. Not much had been left up to the imagination. Educational toys were great, but this one seemed more like a simulator. Where was the play value? Where was the fun?

Maybe it was just something he couldn’t understand. He decided to go to the source, and looked around for a little girl to ask.

That’s when he saw her. For the first time in a little over three years. She had grown, in so many ways that at first he couldn’t take them all in, and he realized with a sharp pang of grief that those past three years had been important ones for Chelsea.

Though he knew he should turn around and walk away, for a moment, Rick could only stand and stare. There was just so much
more
of her. She was taller. Her hair was longer. That nose,
his
nose, still didn’t quite fit, but it wouldn’t be too long now. In another three years, she would be on the verge of young womanhood. Two more after that and she’d want her own car. A few more and...what? Her own children, perhaps? It all passed so quickly.

And it was passing without him. All the bitterness and rage that he had spent three years putting behind him suddenly came boiling up in a dizzying rush.

But then she looked at him, and in an instant all the anger was gone. Her sweet smile was like a balm to his wounded heart. At least some things hadn’t changed. Those big, brown eyes. And she was holding a plastic model of a horse. He remembered horses had been an obsession of hers since she was four or five.

When she turned back to studying the little horse, Rick realized he’d been fooling himself. She had changed, but so had he. There were fewer pounds around his middle, and a few more gray hairs on his head. His face hadn’t escaped the effects of time, either, especially when combined with too much anger and not enough understanding—from both himself and the one person he cared more about than any other.

Chelsea didn’t recognize him. His own daughter had forgotten who he was. And Rick simply couldn’t bear it.

All the things he had been working for suddenly didn’t seem to make any difference. Putting the doll he still held in his hand down on a nearby counter, he did the one thing that could bring those hopes crashing down around his ears.

He approached his own child. “Hi, Chelsea.”

“Hello,” she said distractedly. She was focused on the model horse, and her reply was mainly a reflex action.

But at the sound of his voice, a connection that had already started to form in the young girl’s mind was completed at last, and she looked up at Rick. Her sweet, tentative smile wavered, then melted into a frown. Slowly, that frown turned into something even uglier.

He saw that Chelsea recognized him now. And that she was afraid of him.

“Momma says you’re supposed to stay away from us.”

Rick didn’t know which hurt worse, the look on her face or the way her voice had quavered when she’d said those words.

“Chelsea, honey—”

“Momma says you’re not supposed to talk to us, either,” she told him. “She says you’ll be mean.”

“I’m sure your mother has said a lot of things about me, Chelsea,” Rick said, struggling to keep his voice calm. What he wanted to do was grab her, hug her, somehow communicate all the love he had inside for her.

However, Angela had done her dirty work well; his own flesh and blood was backing away from him. “But you have to believe me, Chelsea. I never hurt your mother. And I would never, ever hurt you.”

“She cried. Her eye was all purple and black.”

Rick felt his stomach knot up. What could he say? Call her mother a liar? Down that path lay certain defeat. Rant and rave about a judge who had accepted her word against his? Chelsea wouldn’t understand that.
He
didn’t understand that. All he knew was that he had been mangled by a legal system gone astray, the best justice money could buy.

And all he could do was continue to plead his own case. “It wasn’t me, Chelsea. I don’t know what happened to your mother, but it wasn’t me. I love you, honey. And I’m so very sorry about all this mess.”

For a brief, glorious instant, the fear on the little girl’s face went away. “Is that true, Daddy?”

It was just four words, but they meant the world to Rick. In them he could hear her confusion. Her mind was not yet totally made up against him. And in her suddenly teary eyes he could see a question, a need not unlike his own.

He bent down on one knee and opened his arms to her. “I know we’re not supposed to, Chelsea. But I could really use a hug right now.”

She took one hesitant step toward her father. It was as far as she got. “Chelsea!” her mother yelled. “Stop!”

Again, fear marred Chelsea’s sweet features as Angela came striding up behind her and grabbed the child’s arm, pulling her backward. Rick took one look at his former wife’s face and saw all he needed to. He was in big trouble. As he turned around, hoping against hope that it wasn’t too late, his gut feeling was confirmed.

There were two of them, large-size males, and they didn’t look in the mood for resistance of any sort. Rick had no intention of offering any. The moment he had seen Chelsea, he knew that what was about to happen was a very definite possibility. When he hadn’t left her vicinity immediately, he had broken the law.

“Are you Rick Hastings?” one of the police officers asked.

Rick nodded. “I am.”

“Mr. Hastings, you have violated a restraining order that was obtained against you by your former spouse for her own protection and that of her child, Chelsea Bayer. At this time, I am going to place you under arrest.”

Even with his fine new clothes, the officers weren’t taking any chances with Rick. While one continued the legal spiel and kept a wary eye peeled, the other got out his handcuffs. As he maneuvered Rick into position and snapped them around his wrists, Shannon pushed her way through the crowd that had started to gather.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “Rick? What is this?”

“Stay out of it, Shannon,” he said curtly.

“Please step back, ma’am,” one policeman told her in a no-nonsense tone. “Mr. Hastings is under arrest.”

“What!” Shannon cried. “What did he do?”

“For heaven’s sake, Shannon!” Rick exclaimed. “Do what they tell you and keep away!”

She tried to move closer, and the officer physically prevented her. “Mr. Hastings has violated a restraining order. If you have an interest in this case, you can come to this precinct and inquire through proper channels,” he told her, handing her a card that he whipped out of his uniform pocket. “Now stay back, or I’ll be forced to arrest you for interfering with us and you’ll be coming along with him right now. Have I made myself clear?”

Shannon nodded. She knew that domestic disputes were one of the most dangerous situations a police officer encountered. Besides, she knew this wasn’t their fault. As they led Rick away, Shannon turned to glare at the woman she suspected was responsible.

There was a smug little grin of victory on her pretty face and Shannon had the sudden urge to claw it right off. But then, Angela noticed her, and Shannon realized such a thing wouldn’t be easy. Never in her life had she seen such a fierce, almost blood-thirsty expression on a woman. It made her own blood run cold in her veins.

From somewhere, however, she summoned the courage to approach Angela, anyway. It was quite clear to her that the other woman expected, even relished, confrontation.

And the first shot fired was hers. “Well. Isn’t this touching,” Angela said in a cool, snobbish tone. “It looks like Rick found himself a little redhead to fight his battles for him.”

Shannon had to admit there was something imposing about Angela. She seemed larger than life, like an animated statue sculpted by an oversexed perfectionist out of pink alabaster, rather than a real woman of flesh and bone.

But then, there was a reason Leo referred to Shannon as the Amazon. She highly resented being called little and had a fiery temper in keeping with both her hair color and her ancestry.

There was, however, a problem. Chelsea. The girl was alarmed, afraid and huddled close to her mother for protection. Suddenly, it occurred to Shannon that it was the other way around. Angela was actually hiding behind Chelsea.

If the child hadn’t been there, Shannon would have really torn into the other woman—verbally, of course. Still, there were some things that needed to be said, and Chelsea might as well hear them, too.

“My name, Mrs. Bayer, is Shannon O’Shaughnessy,” she told her in a low, clipped voice. “I am the toy department manager for Lyon’s, where Rick is presently employed as a Santa Claus. He came here with me on an errand for Mr. Lyon and I assume full responsibility for his actions.”

“Rick? A department store Santa Claus?” Angela laughed derisively. “I suppose it fits Lyon’s style, though. Leave it to you people to hire a thug for such a sensitive position.”

“If anyone can be accused of hiring thugs, it’s Bayer’s,” Shannon objected, just managing to keep her cool. She pointed to the sign over the sales counter. “By hook or by
crook?
”

Angela looked bored. “It’s a joke, dear.”

“If we find Leo before the shipment arrives—and we will find him—the joke will be on you.
Dear,
“ Shannon retorted curtly. “And then we’ll see who winds up in jail.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It’s a promise,” Shannon assured her.

“I hope you’re not accusing us of kidnapping,” Angela warned. “We’re already planning on suing the newspaper for that mistake. We’d be happy to include Lyon’s, as well.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. Yet,” Shannon said, frowning, “I am curious about one thing. Since Rick never signed any adoption papers, how did you and Nathan manage to change Chelsea’s surname?”

Angela’s eyes narrowed as her expression changed from hostile to wary. “I hope all that loyalty isn’t for Rick, Ms. O’Shaughnessy. He’s a dangerous man. And a pathological liar.”

While it was true that all Shannon had was Rick’s side of the story, she was inclined to believe him, and what had just happened was strong evidence to support that belief.

“My loyalty is for an eight-year-old boy who is being held hostage for commercial gain, no matter how elaborate or comfortable his circumstances might be at the moment,” Shannon returned. “As for Rick, I scarcely know him. But I know what I saw here today. If you truly believed Chelsea to be in danger, why did you wait until the police arrived before you came to save her from such a supposedly dangerous individual?”

Angela put her hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“No? Then let me spell it out. To me, it seems as if you used your own child as bait.”

“How dare you!”

Angela was looking around for assistance. “That’s it!” she said stridently. “I’ve heard enough. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll have security forcibly eject you.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll leave. But understand this.” She met Angela’s hate-filled reptilian gaze. “I am going to redouble my efforts to get Leo back. And if I do find that you are somehow involved, I will take great personal pleasure in seeing your pert, perfect little butt behind bars!”

“Security!” Angela yelped.

Shannon turned to go. On a whim, she turned back and gently touched Chelsea’s cheek. “If you ever want to talk to a real adult, honey, come see me at Lyon’s. I’ll buy you a hot chocolate.”