The Kid Who Stole Christmas (18 page)

All he could do was continue to weave in and around the truth, and hope that when the time came, Shannon would know him well enough to understand the decisions he had made.

With some surprise, Rick looked up and realized he was standing in front of the warehouse. He cursed under his breath. His thoughts had so carried him away that he hadn’t taken his usual circuitous route, nor been on the alert for anyone following him, now more a threat than ever before.

Rather than do something totally suspicious, though, he decided to simply take one trip around the block and try to make amends for his negligence. Since the area comprised mainly warehouses, it was a long block, probably a mile at least. Even though the sun was out and shining brightly today, his suit jacket wasn’t much of a barrier against the wind. He gritted his teeth and walked on, considering it his punishment.

The zone was quiet this morning, with few people braving the cold, and not even much traffic. Finally, near-frozen but satisfied, he slipped around the back of the warehouse and used his customary entrance, reveling in the relative warmth the building’s cavernous interior provided. As usual, it was quiet.

First, Rick went to his apartment, where he changed into more serviceable, if less elegant, attire, layering for warmth.

“She’s spoiling you already,” he told himself as he slipped into jeans.

Nothing with a patch would do now; he had chosen his newest pair, still dark blue, and a soft, tan-colored chamois-cloth shirt he usually reserved for special occasions. But in a way, he supposed, this was a special occasion. His hiking boots looked fine. Besides, he wasn’t going into the mountains wearing slick-soled loafers.

Next, Rick headed for the office to call Charlie. There were some instant coffee packets left, he noticed, but he decided he’d rather not, thinking of how he’d recently put his friend down for doing the same. This life hadn’t been so pure, after all.

He dialed the number. “Martin, Brindle and Prine,” the secretary answered. “How may I help you?”

“Charles Prine, please.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“This is Mr. Bonner.”

Her tone turned immediately from brusque to dulcet. “Just one moment, Mr. Bonner. I’ll put you right through.”

“Hello, Mr. Bonner, sir,” Charlie said when he came on the line. “At your service, sir.”

“You play the perfect toady, Charlie,” Rick told him.

“That’s how one becomes a full partner, my friend.”

“Uh-huh. Well, can it. I’d like an update, please.”

There was the sound of a computer keyboard being poked into submission. “Okay. Detailed or general?”

“General will do.”

“Let’s see...” More tapping of keys. “West, I’m looking at a line roughly defined by Boise, Salt Lake City and your old hometown of Phoenix.”

“How are we doing there?” Rick asked curiously.

Charlie laughed. “That’s a joke, right?”

“I’ve been a little too busy to watch TV, Charlie.”

“Oh? Santa duty?” His interest was clearly piqued.

“If you’ve been a very good boy, perhaps I’ll explain in a moment. Now, just how well are things going?”

“All units thus far,” Charlie replied simply.

Rick arched his eyebrows. “All?”

“All. Our stockings are going to be
very
full this year.”

Rick sat down in the desk chair, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Until right this minute, he still hadn’t been able to make himself believe something this good could happen to him. And to think, he owed it all to being in the right place at the right time, a silly job on a toy company loading dock. A job he’d almost been too dejected to even apply for.

“Hello?” Charlie asked. “You still there?”

“Yeah. I just got a bit dizzy. Must be the altitude.”

Charlie hummed in agreement. “You should see the figures.”

“That’ll wait,” Rick said, glancing at his watch to help himself get a grip on reality. “Where are we in the East?”

“Oh, roughly Detroit, Louisville, Atlanta. Slower going, of course. More densely populated. But plenty of saturation. Speaking of which, I suppose you’ve started?”

“No.”

“Shouldn’t you? They’ll be north and south of Denver by tomorrow morning, buddy.”

“I know.”

“And all over the United States by that afternoon.”

“I know!” Rick exclaimed. That was the trouble with waves. Once started, they were difficult, if not impossible, to stop. “I’ve run into some problems here.”

“You don’t mean that Lyon kid? I thought that was some kind of publicity stunt. Morning news said the paper that ran the story printed a full retraction.”

Rick took a deep breath, then blew it out in a sigh. “I didn’t see it. But it’s an indication of how difficult this situation has become. There’s a lot of strange stuff going on here, Charlie, and until I can sort some of it out, I don’t want to risk ruining my own plans.”

“Whatever you say. You’re the man with the mission,” Charlie said. “Just don’t let it run you over while you’re busy looking at something else.”

“I won’t.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “That was a hint, pal.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have been a very good boy this year, Santa. So tell me a story about why you’re so distracted.”

“Oh.” Rick laughed, glad to ease the tension. “Let me just say that I’m wearing my best jeans, and seem to have lost my taste for coffee made with rusty tap water.”

“I thought I detected just a hint of your former, less austere manner coming through,” Charlie noted. “Since you haven’t blindsided the Bayers yet, I guess that can only mean one thing. So tell me. Is she pretty?”

Rick leaned back and put his feet up on the desk. “If you could see the smile on my face right now, Charlie, you wouldn’t have to ask. She’s gorgeous. Red hair, green eyes, a curve for every occasion.” He chuckled. “Absolutely adores Christmas.”

“Ho, ho, ho! And Father Christmas?”

“Well, she took me home to meet her cats.”

“Wow.” Charlie whistled. “Serious stuff.”

Rick was nodding his head thoughtfully. “I never thought I’d say it again, but yeah. It could get that way.”

“I sense some unease in that statement,” his friend said. “Am I to assume you haven’t, shall we say, been entirely honest with this goddess yet?”

“She knows most of it, but not all,” Rick admitted. “You see, she’s very attached to Leo Lyon, and his ransom is a shipment of Arnies, so if she knew everything...” He trailed off, knowing Charlie would figure it out for himself.

He did. “My. That’s an interesting tightrope you’re about to fall off,” Charlie told him candidly.

Rick could hardly deny it. “It’s swaying. But I’m on my way now to check out a lead on the Lyon boy. Finding him will calm things down a lot.”

“Maybe. You of all people should know that deception has a long half-life.” He sighed, and his voice filled with worry. “Listen, my friend. You do what you think you have to. But I advise you to wise up. I don’t even know this woman and I like her, because I can tell that in just a couple of days, she’s started to undo all the damage you did to yourself in three years of wandering down blind alleys. In other words, don’t screw it up.”

“Believe me, I’m trying not to.” Rick sighed. “Charlie, I need a favor.” He quickly explained about Chelsea’s name change. “Find out what happened if you can.”

“Will do.”

He glanced at his watch again. “I have to go now, Charlie. Thanks for everything.”

“Take care.”

Rick hung up, then left the office and went back to his apartment. It had occurred to him that he didn’t know where he might end up tonight, so he packed a change of clothes into a blue duffel bag to take with him. He was halfway to the exit door, when he noticed it was slightly ajar. At first he felt a surge of adrenaline. But then he saw that the inner padlock was hanging on the hasp, unlocked. He’d made yet another stupid mistake.

“Three strikes and you’re out,” he muttered to himself.

As a precaution, he checked around the warehouse, taking particular care to make sure one large crate and its smaller companion were still in the dark, dusty corner where they’d been put several weeks ago. They were undisturbed, just as he had found them upon his arrival in Denver. Or almost.

This time he made no mistake. Grabbing a coffee can that he’d filled with floor sweepings for just this purpose, he carefully sprinkled a fine layer of dust over his footprints, obliterating them. Again, that corner of the warehouse looked as if it hadn’t been used in years.

Rick then retrieved his bag from where he’d dropped it near the door and slipped out, locking the door behind him. As he rounded the corner of the warehouse, he nearly fell over the old man stretched out on the cracked and broken sidewalk.

“Hey, old-timer,” Rick said, bending down and gently shaking the man’s shoulder. “You can’t crash here. You’ll freeze.”

The man stirred and looked up at Rick. Rick didn’t know him, but he had seen those eyes before, in a dozen other cities in surroundings just like these. The man’s voice and the words he spoke communicated the same chilling message, as well.

“So I freeze. Who cares?”

“I care,” Rick replied, hauling him to his feet.

“Who do you think you are?” the old man asked with heavy, liquor-soaked sarcasm. “Santa Claus?”

Rick smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. Now come on,” he told him, all but pulling him along. “There’s a mission down there around the corner.”

“They don’t let you in if you’re soused.”

“No, but they’ll give you a blanket and let you sleep it off in the lobby.” He kept tugging the old guy along. “If you wander back out, that’s your business. But I’m not leaving you out here on the street.”

“It doesn’t pay to be nice to bums, sonny boy. Most of us would stab you in the back for a couple of bucks.”

Rick looked at him. “I know. I’ve even got the scars to prove it. But for some reason, I keep doing it, anyway.”

Chapter Sixteen

S
hannon had everything pretty much under control by the time Rick came to get her. Ironically, he found her in about the same spot as he had the day before yesterday, in the narrow passageway that led to the storeroom. But this time, when she saw him, she stepped into his arms and gave him a kiss.

“Mmm,” Rick hummed appreciatively. “You taste like chocolate.”

“I keep my stash back here,” she explained. “Want some?”

“Just another taste.” He kissed her again. “About ready to go?” he asked.

“About.”

She would always like the way he looked in a suit, but approved of his clothing change for today’s journey into the mountains. Her own attire was more casual, as well, consisting of a pair of taupe wool trousers, a heavy cable-knit turtleneck sweater the color of roasted chestnuts and black suede boots to match her usual long black winter coat.

However, even though he’d left his duffel bag in her car, that old peacoat of his still gave him something of a vagabond air. She approached the matter tactfully.

“It’s going to be cold up there today,” she said.

Rick grinned. “Don’t like the coat, huh?”

“It’s a good look,” she replied. “For a lumberjack. Or maybe a gonzo snowboarder.”

“Ah.” He took it off and hung it in the locker he’d been assigned in which to keep his Santa suit. “Lead me to Carl. I have only one request. Nothing in a color that has to have a cutesy name. Plain blue, maybe. Or even forest green. But absolutely no watercress.”

Shannon laughed. “Forest green it shall be. And don’t worry. Carl doesn’t dabble in sportswear. That’s Mike Alard’s department.”

“Mike.” Rick nodded his approval as he followed her out of the passageway. “Now there’s a trustworthy-sounding name.”

He was, and Rick ended up with a very nice coat in deep forest green, with lots of pockets and a serviceable mid-thigh length. He hadn’t been too sure about the zip-in lining, with its southwestern saddle-blanket look, but the coat was so warm, he decided he could stand being a little fashionable.

The task did take a while, though. The store was crowded to capacity. As they made their way to the nearest exit, Rick was glad to see that Hans was being relieved at Santa duty on a regular basis. Shannon informed him that a group of other employees had gotten together to share the task. It was extra pay, but they seemed to actually enjoy the change of pace.

Finally, they emerged into the fresh, cold, late-morning air, made a beeline for Shannon’s car and then set their sights on the not-too-distant mountains. Traffic wasn’t bad, especially once they got into the flow on the Interstate 70 bound for the ski area. Shannon kept pace with the other cars and didn’t pay too much attention to the speedometer. If she went much slower, they’d run right over her, even in the far right lane.

“Did you corner Pop?” Rick asked.

“You can get his attention if you stand right in front of the TV in his office. I swear, the way the media is behaving, it’s as if somebody started an all-Arnie channel.”

“That was the general idea,” Rick informed her. “I don’t know if you noticed, but the ads stopped yesterday when the first units hit the stores. We’re counting on the media to do that job for us from now on.”

Shannon nodded appreciatively. “Pretty cagey. Which, by the way, sums up Pop’s behavior when I asked him about talking to the kidnappers. He said they called and were worried, so he had to tell them something.”

“Sounds straightforward to me.”

“It was the way he said it.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. You had to be there, I guess. I just get the sneaking suspicion he’s got something up his sleeve.”

“At his age and level of experience, I’d be amazed if he
didn’t
have something up his sleeve,” Rick observed. “And I’d be willing to bet he’ll accomplish whatever it is, too, with or without us. So there’s no use stewing over it.”

“I suppose not. Anything new at the warehouse?” she asked, taking a quick glance at him to gauge his reaction. There was none, or at least nothing she could decipher.

“Some old guy had passed out on my doorstep. I took him to a shelter. Other than that, it was remarkably quiet down there,” Rick replied.