The Kid Who Stole Christmas (22 page)

Shannon frowned at him. “What did you do? Meet up with home-brew Bill out there?”

“Better. Santa Claus.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, somebody gave us a Christmas present,” Rick told her. “I didn’t go ten feet, before I ran smack into a mailbox. We’d come farther than we thought. We’re there.”

“The house with the pool?” Shannon asked, mouth agape.

“Yup. We’re sitting about a hundred feet or so down their driveway, parked behind a copse of juniper bushes,” he informed her. “The satellite dish is off to our right. It seems to be the sort of house to have a white rug, too. Give me a minute or so more to warm up, and I’ll go back out to take a closer look.”

Shannon started pulling her gloves on. “No, you’ve played Arctic explorer enough for one night. I’ll go.”

“It’s nasty out there,” Rick warned her.

She wrapped her wool scarf over her head and down around her ears, then tucked it into the collar of her coat, which she buttoned all the way up. Her boots, though suede, had good soles and a dose of waterproofing on them.

“I’m not made of cotton candy,” she said. “I won’t melt. Besides, it’s my fault we’re out here in this storm, so it’s only fair I do my share.”

“Suit yourself, but be careful.” Rick held out his hands to warm them on the flow of air coming from the heater vents. “I’ll keep the home fires burning, so to speak.”

“You do that.”

Shannon got out of the car. She took about two steps and realized Rick had lied. It wasn’t nasty out; it was horrible! The wind howled through the trees, and made the snow hitting her face feel like stinging grains of sand. That wouldn’t have been too bad if she could move quickly, but every step was a struggle, the fallen snow already up to her knees.

By chance, she found the remnants of some recent tracks. Evidently, a vehicle had pulled in or out of the driveway not long ago. This made the going much easier, though walking in one wheel track was still a little awkward. She followed it all the way up to the house, where the tracks disappeared into an attached garage. The snow was still falling so heavily that she didn’t worry much about being seen. Then, too, there were no lights on at all, not even on the front porch.

It was deathly quiet, except for the wind, which even blew away the sound of her running car engine not more than a couple of hundred feet away. She moved toward the porch. As she did so, her boot caught on some sort of obstruction buried under the snow.

Shannon fell flat on her face.
“Oof!”

She struggled to her knees, covered in snow, and grabbed for the bottom part of the porch railing to help herself up. But the railing was loose, and wiggling it dislodged a shovel that had been propped against the railing at the top of the steps. It came clattering down, just missing her head. She jerked back, which caused her to slip again and clutch the flimsy railing for support. The piece she was holding broke with a loud crack. Shannon went down again, on her rear end this time, thankful for the cushion of her coat and several feet of snow.

“For heaven’s sake!” she muttered, getting carefully to her feet again. “Some spy I am.”

But she had determined one thing, at least. Either there was nobody home, or they were deaf, because she’d made enough noise to wake the dead. She decided to go report this fact to Rick. Since snow now covered her from head to toe, she figured they were even.

Rick thought so, too. “I feel much better now,” he said, laughing as she got into the car. “What on earth did you do? Roll in the stuff?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Shannon groused. “Suffice it to say, I have determined the place is unoccupied at the moment. Or the occupants are wearing earplugs. Either way, this is a dead end, too.” She looked at him plaintively. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me brush off? I helped you.”

“Why bother? You’re just going right back out in it.”

“Not me!” Shannon objected. “If you want to reconnoiter, do it yourself. It’s cold out there.”

“It’ll be cold in here, too, as soon as the gas runs out.”

Shannon crossed her arms. “I’m a Colorado girl, remember? I know what to do in emergencies like this. You only run the car for a few minutes every half hour or so. And get out and exercise every now and then, to keep from falling asleep.”

Rick shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to go see if I can get into that house.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not? We did it just a few hours ago, and that wasn’t an emergency. In fact, it was even your idea,” he said pointedly.

“That was different. We knew who the place belonged to.”

“We know that here, too.” He reached up and turned on the dome light so he could read the piece of paper with the addresses on it. “Ralph and Kim Jeffries.”

“But we don’t know them.”

“We aren’t exactly pals with the Bayers, now, are we?” Rick said. “And I for one, am willing to bet the Jeffrieses are a lot nicer folks.” He reached out and brushed some melting snow off her hair. “We really don’t have much choice, Shannon. The temperature is dropping and we’re both soaked. There’s no telling when someone might come, but by the look of this storm, it could be quite a while, maybe not until tomorrow morning. And the next nearest house is miles away. It’s crazy to risk freezing, when we’re so close to this one.”

Shannon knew he was right. There was also a part of her that realized their shared fantasy of earlier had a chance of coming true. They were going to be snowed in, and with any luck, would soon be sitting in front of a roaring fire.

“All right,” she said. “But this time, let’s try not to break the door down if we don’t have to, okay?”

Rick made a crossing motion over his chest with one finger. “I promise. Last resort. And who knows? The phones don’t seem very reliable around here, but if they are still working, we might even be able to call for help.”

That didn’t sound nearly as romantic to Shannon, but it was the more responsible approach, she supposed. Still, she found herself half hoping that the phones were out again.

As long as they might have to help themselves to the place for the night, they decided they might as well park right in front. Though it slipped and slid all the way, her car made it down the rest of the driveway. Shannon parked it right in front of the garage. When she turned the engine off at last, it seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. She gave it an affectionate pat on the wheel, then got out to join Rick in his search for a means of entry.

“What on earth did you do?” he asked her, upon seeing all the marks in the snow near the front porch. “Meet up with a bear, or something?”

“I fell, okay? Now come on. It’s freezing out here.”

Rick was still studying the prints. “I recognize that one. Must have hurt.” He patted her lightly on the rear end. “Are you okay?”

“Rick! Would you come on?”

“I’m working on it,” he said.

Except for Shannon’s footprints and the places where she had fallen, the only other tracks were those of the vehicle that had obviously left the house—and not long before they’d arrived, judging by the rate at which the tracks were disappearing. The porch was covered with snow, as were the steps. No walkways had been shoveled for quite some time, if the drifts were any indication.

“Must be an entrance in the garage,” he told her.

“So?”

“So I installed garage doors for a living at one time, as well,” Rick replied. “I know a few tricks of the trade.”

Shannon was stomping her feet to keep warm. “Then might I suggest you perform a couple before we turn into snowmen?”

Rick looked it over. As he thought, it had an automatic opener. Remembering that Shannon had one, too, he tried her remote to see if, by chance, the frequencies matched. No luck.

Shannon, meanwhile, was beginning to rethink her moral position on breaking and entering, and went looking for a suitable door for him to kick down. Using the shovel she had found earlier, she dug a little path around the house. It gave her something to do and helped keep her warm. By the time she got back to the garage, however, Rick had the door open.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

He put his finger to his lips. “Trade secret. If I told you, you’d go around breaking into houses higgledy-piggledy.”

Though tempted to whack him with the shovel, she tossed it aside and followed him into the garage. As he said, there was an entrance to the house. He pushed a button near it, and the automatic door rattled down. A light came on as it did so.

“Oops!” Rick said. “Trouble.”

Shannon joined him. “What?” Then she saw the fancy lock on the back door. “Oops is right. I guess we kick it in, huh?”

“I’m worried about you, Shannon. You seem to be developing a penchant for destruction.”

“Me? It’s your footprint they’ll find on the Bayers’ door.”

“True. So help me stop this senseless crime spree and look for a key to this lock. I know I used to keep one hidden in my garage, just in case.”

“Me, too,” Shannon agreed. “I guess cats are right. We humans are hopelessly predictable. What sort of key?”

“A plastic one. It’ll look like a credit card.”

Shannon made a face. “Fancy.”

“Nothing is too good for the Jeffrieses, apparently.”

“I just hope they have a good heater.”

It was Shannon who found the card, stuck in between the pages of a dog-eared workshop manual on a shelf above a tool bench at the back of the garage. The manual, she noted, was for a classic model Jaguar.

“If they really own this car,” Rick said, “I’d say good old Ralph and Kim are probably bloody rich.”

Shannon swiped the card through the groove in the lock. There was a click, and the door popped open. “Let’s go inside and find out, shall we?”

If they weren’t rich, the Jeffrieses were on very good terms with several credit card companies. The house had one of everything. Two, if they could be made to fit. There was even a color television in the kitchen.

Unfortunately, the place was also a pigsty. Especially the entertainment room, where dirty dishes littered almost every horizontal surface.

Shannon grabbed Rick’s arm and pointed to the floor, where a once-beautiful white Berber rug had recently taken a beating from which it might never recover. “Sure look like blueberry syrup stains to me,” she said.

Rick nodded. He had a puzzled look on his face. “Do you hear something strange?”

“What?” She was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. A sort of knocking sound. You don’t suppose...”

With Rick in the lead, they followed the sound toward the back of the house, where they found some steps leading to the basement. Rick flipped a switch and some lights came on to guide them. As they descended, an unusual smell reached them, one Shannon could only describe as that of fresh running water.

They had found the pool they’d been looking for. And there was something floating in it.

Chapter Nineteen

W
hoever had used the pool last had forgotten to turn the water jet off. There was something caught in its artificial current, causing it to knock on the fiberglass side.

“What is that?” Shannon asked uneasily.

“Relax,” Rick told her. He stepped over to the side of the pool and fished out the floating object. “It’s just the hard plastic head off a Santa Claus lawn ornament.”

“That’s twisted!” Shannon removed her sodden coat and sat down on the redwood bench near the pool. “And just like Leo. He was here. But we’re too late.”

“From the looks of things, they took off pretty fast, too,” Rick said. He removed his coat as well, hanging it on the bench beside hers. “I wonder why.”

“Uh-oh.” Shannon looked at him, her eyes going wide. “You don’t suppose the Arnies arrived?”

“No, that’s impossible. They’re—” He stopped himself in the nick of time. “They’re not due until tomorrow.”

She was studying his face suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t know when they were going to get here.”

“I, uh, checked with Arnie central this morning.”

“Maybe they came in early. It would also explain why Angela and Emilio were in such a hurry before.”

In a way, she was right. Rick’s forehead furrowed with worry. “What was it Angela had said? Something about an old sot?” He turned and started back up the stairs. “I’m going to see if the phones work.”

“I have to call Lyon’s,” Shannon agreed, hot on his heels. “And my next-door neighbor. My cats will worry.”

The house had plenty of phones. Rick tried the one in the kitchen and another in the entertainment room before admitting defeat. He slammed the receiver down with a bang.

“This stupid weather!” He glanced at Shannon. “I can’t believe I let you pull off the interstate. We’d be safe and sound in Denver by now.”

“Maybe. Or maybe we’d be in a ditch waiting for a tow truck,” Shannon countered. “At least we really are safe here.”

“Yeah, right.” Rick kicked a pillow that was on the floor and sent it flying across the room. “Safe and stuck.”

Shannon’s hopes for a romantic evening were melting like the snow that still clung to her hair. “Earlier, you seemed to think that wouldn’t be so bad,” she reminded him.

“That was before I realized Angela and her pet stud might have gotten the jump on me,” Rick grumbled.

He was searching around for the television remote. When he found it, he turned the set on, muting the sound and clicking through the channels. At last he found one that was showing the latest Arnie the Arachnid news.

“Nothing so far,” Rick said after a moment, and plopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief. “I can’t imagine that they’d be sitting on their thumbs. Maybe he hasn’t sobered up enough to tell them anything.”

“Who?” Shannon asked, confused.

“That old sot, as Angela called him,” Rick explained. “I told you about him, remember? Well, I don’t think he just happened to fall down in front of the warehouse. He followed me there. I suppose it’s possible he decided not to tell them anything because I was nice and helped him. But then, he did warn me he’d stab me in the back for a couple of bucks. He’s probably just too hung over to remember what he saw.”