Chapter 15
He’d been able to ID one man for the Warren County Sheriff’s office.
They reported the results of their rundown to Lyle while Russ was in the MKPD squad room: the suspect wasn’t at home and his roommate had no idea of his whereabouts.
He came up empty with his own—with the MKPD’s—booking database.
That didn’t surprise him; after ten years as police chief, he felt he’d recognize anyone they’d brought in in the past.
Lyle squeezed his shoulder. “Look. We know Kevin’s alive and healthy and can walk away if he wants to. That’s what the Flynns asked you to find out. You did it. Now go home. Enjoy the holiday with your family. You and Clare have both done more than enough.”
Russ stood and nodded. Put his parka on.
“Do. Not. Obsess over this.”
He laughed. “You know me too damn well.”
“That I do,” Lyle agreed. “Ranger Terrance, it was a pleasure meeting you. Get him home safe.”
“I will, sir.”
The rectory’s short drive was filled with their two vehicles, tight against the old carriage house, and a car with Jersey plates. Knox’s grape Kool-Aid–colored beater was at the curb. “Looks like everyone’s here,” Terrance said.
“Come on in. I can’t offer you a beer, but there’ll be plenty of cookies. So many Christmas cookies.”
The door opened before he could touch it.
Clare. Smiling fiercely, looking thinned out and creased, like wrapping paper that had been used one too many times.
He folded her into his arms, and they stood there, heart-to-heart, while the world began to right again.
Oscar, tail batting wildly, thumped against his legs, trying to insert himself between them.
There was a gentle cough behind him.
“Oh!” Clare released him, tugging him into the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Paul. Please come in.”
Russ looked around. “Where’s Ethan?”
She smiled. “Take your boots off. I’ll bring him.”
He could hear her running up the stairs as he and Paul shucked their outdoor things.
The kitchen smelled like pine and hot mulled cider, and he could feel himself settling back into his life.
He walked through the swinging doors to see Knox, and a roaring fire in the fireplace, and a lit tree by the front window, with Yíxīn Zhào holding a box of ornaments.
“Chief!” Knox crossed and hugged him. “I’m so glad to see you.”
“That seems to be the consensus. I must have looked pretty bad.”
Terrance grinned. “It was the crusty vomit that got us all worried.”
Russ made a face. Clare appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a very sleepy baby. Russ took his son and cradled him close, while Ethan smacked his tiny lips and rubbed at his eyes.
“He was napping? You shouldn’t have gotten him up.”
Clare put her arm around his waist. “You need him more than he needs a nap.”
He tore his gaze away from his boy. “You got a tree.”
“The drama club and the band at the high school were selling them as a fundraiser. I figured I better buy one before they were all gone. And,” she swept her arm, taking in everyone, “I think we can all use a little happiness right now. Paul, the hot cider’s in the slow cooker on the table.
Maybe you can help Yíxīn with hanging ornaments. ”
Russ plunked onto the sofa, still holding Ethan. The dog leaped up and curled himself against Russ’s side. “You going to join in, Knox?”
“Nope.” She picked up a stack of boxes holding the outdoor lights he hadn’t had a chance to tackle yet. “I’m putting these up on your front porch. This place looks pitiful compared to the neighbors’. Don’t want to embarrass the town.”
Terrance, holding a pair of mugs, crossed to the tree. “Does it even count if you don’t have a giant inflatable Santa on the lawn?”
“You’re in charge of that part, Firefly.”
“Firefly!” Yíxīn accepted one of the hot ciders and the ranger began explaining his Mohawk name.
Russ looked around at their little group, strangers who had somehow become his people, who had put everything on the line and now had nothing to show for it.
Knox, who would spend Christmas Day away from her kids.
Zhào, who would almost certainly be reprimanded by her superiors.
Terrance, left to bury his uncle with no accounting for his death.
And Clare, attacked and left in the snow and slush of his mother’s driveway.
He tugged her hand, and she came, squeezing between him and the sofa’s arm. “Darlin’.” He kept his voice low. “You’ve got to stop jumping in to help every stray soul who comes along. You could have been killed.”
“He didn’t hit me that hard—”
“Not the point.” He kissed the baby’s sleep-dampened cheek. “We’ve got to think about Ethan first and foremost now.”
She sat silent for a moment. “Does that include you, too?”
He started to say, That’s different, it’s my job. Then realized of course it wasn’t different. It wasn’t his job anymore. “I guess it does.”
“It’s not that I don’t think of him, and you, and our family.” She made a sound. “I was so scared when Cal March forced his way into Margy’s house.”
He wiggled his other arm free and put it around her shoulders.
“It’s more like I take one small step, and then another, and then before I know it, I’m off solid ground, swaying on a rickety bridge with no railings.”
“We both have that in common.”
She puffed a laugh. “We sure do.”
“So what are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. Helping people is baked into my job. And no matter what you do or don’t do to make a living, keeping people safe is part of who you are.”
He pressed his nose against Ethan’s head and breathed in the baby smell; powder and spit and the indefinable something that said, I’m yours.
He wanted his son to be sheltered, and secure, and he wanted to see him grow into a strong young man.
But he also wanted that for whoever else the militia had in their malignant crosshairs.
He already knew, even in this moment of peace, that he couldn’t let their plans unfold without trying to stop them.
“Maybe…” He hesitated. “Maybe we don’t have to come up with some hard-and-fast rule. Maybe it’s enough to center our family, and then take one action at a time.”
Snugged in close to him, Russ couldn’t see Clare’s face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. “You realize that’s the same as my ‘one step at a time,’ right?”
“Can you stop trying to help Tiny and her kid? Just drop the rope?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then I think it’s the best we can do for right now.
” He glanced toward the younger couple. Paul was tiptoe on the folding stool, trying to get the star clipped on the top of the tree, and Yíxīn, her arms draped with garland, was laughing.
“We make Ethan our lodestar, and think of him when we’re making decisions going forward. ”
Brilliant multicolored lights came on outside, shining through the picture window, framing the matching lights on the tree. Paul and Yíxīn clapped wildly. Knox came in the front door, accompanied by a swirl of icy air. “Ta-da! Am I good, or am I good? Clare, is there more of that hot cider?”
“For the hero of the front porch, anything.” Clare stood up, stretched, and laid her hand lightly on Ethan’s head. “We hold on to all three of us, now.”
Russ smiled up at her. “And we don’t let go.”