Chapter 1
Hadley had to admit, she wasn’t doing her best during the final hymn.
Granddad, who had come to see the pageant’s final dress rehearsal, was booming out, loud and off-key.
When he hit the high note at “The bridegroom is a-RISING,” she saw Mrs. Marshall, standing at the end of their pew, wince and look at her sympathetically.
Hadley was mouthing along, hitting a few words, but her focus was on everything she needed to accomplish today.
Thank God the dep had let her keep her usual Sunday-off schedule.
She had to get the turkey today, or it wouldn’t be defrosted by Wednesday and she still needed stocking stuffers.
Maybe Walmart for both. Genny’s angel costume was all set, but she hadn’t found costume jewelry for Hudson’s king outfit.
She didn’t have anything wrapped, and that had to get done if they were going to be opening presents Christmas Eve.
She knocked baking off her mental list; that just wasn’t going to happen this year.
She’d make better use of her time with some make-ahead sides she could prep today and cook later.
And she’d better sit down with Hudson and make sure he finished his English paper—who assigns middle schoolers a paper due four days before Christmas?
“Thanks be to God,” Granddad shouted. The service was over.
She slipped the hymnal back in the book holder and gestured to the kids.
“Okay, guys, the costumes are in the parish hall. Head on back and I’ll be there in a sec to help you.
” She turned to Granddad. “Are you good with bringing them home afterwards?”
“’Course I am. You go ahead, finish up your shopping.”
“Hudson has homework.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it done.”
He wouldn’t make sure it got done. He was just a little too soft-hearted with his great-grands.
For a moment, her mind turned to Flynn, running flashcards with Genny while visiting their house, quizzing Hudson on history facts at cross-country meets.
She slammed the door on those recollections.
Their last meeting had gone badly, and God knew if she’d ever even see him again if he’d fallen for that militia crap.
No. She had more than enough to focus on in her real life.
The various costumes were in boxes lined up against one wall, mobbed by kids and parents.
The other half of the room was taken up by congregants drinking coffee, nibbling cookies, and reminiscing about when their kids were in the pageant.
Hadley used to worry about growing old; now she couldn’t wait to be one of those well-groomed fifty-somethings who didn’t have to carry crayons in their purses and who had spontaneous brunches after church.
She had dressed Genny in a T-shirt and white tights this morning, so all she had to do was drop a satin robe over her head and cinch her waist with a length of tinsel garland.
The director was attaching the more delicate wings, thank God.
The three kings were wearing fancy robes with even fancier long vests over; Hudson’s fit him perfectly, but the frankincense king had had a growth spurt over the summer, and there were at least five inches of khakis showing between his robe and his sneakers.
“Wear black pants Christmas Eve and we’ll call it good,” the director’s assistant said.
“Mrs. Knox, we still need some necklaces for the gold king.”
“I’ll have them.” Hadley added a trip to the dollar store onto her list.
The director clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone! Into the church! Let’s go!”
Hadley waited until the crowd of kids and volunteers had emptied out of the parish hall.
The coffee was tempting … No, better get on the road.
She could hit up a McDonald’s drive-through.
As she walked back toward the church, Clare burst into the hall.
“Hadley! Thank God!” Clare grabbed her by the sleeve and yanked her into the office.
“What—”
“Listen to this.” Clare held up her phone and tapped her voice mail.
“Clare?” The whisper was so soft Hadley could barely make it out. “It’s Tiny. I’m at Cal’s depot. Please help me. He took Rose, and we’re locked in the office.” There was a pause and she continued, “Two guards. With guns? And there’s another—” The recording ended.
“We have to go get her.”
Hadley had so many objections to that she didn’t know which one to start with. “No” was all that came out.
Clare shook the phone at her. “She called this morning, while I had my phone turned off. This message could be three hours old already. If he moves her, we might never find her again.”
“Why didn’t she call the police?”
“She doesn’t trust the police.”
“Well, we do, and we need to call the MKPD.”
“The depot’s near Lake George.”
“Then we need to call the Warren County Sheriff’s office! And what about the chief? Where is he?” He hadn’t been in church this morning.
“At home with Ethan, of course. But I don’t have time to argue with him. We can call him on the way. He’ll just say it’s a trap, anyway.”
“Of course it’s a trap, Clare!”
Hadley had frog-marched Clare back to the rectory via threats of first, not going with her and second, calling in a traffic stop on her car. The chief, having heard the voice mail, was reacting pretty much as expected.
“Getting in touch with you after five days? Calling the one time of the week anyone could expect you to be unavailable? What else could it be?”
“All right, maybe it is a trap. Let’s spring it. You think Cal March could be the key to finding out what the militia has planned? Okay, let’s go get him.”
“Clare.” The chief took her by her shoulders. “We just talked about this the other night. Racing off because of some highly suspect phone call isn’t putting Ethan first and foremost.”
She pressed her lips together. “I put him first and foremost when Cal March came for that baby girl, Russ. I helped him. I know about domestic violence. I knew he might kill Rose just to get back at her mother. And I still just…” She opened her hands, as if dropping something. “Let her go.”
The chief’s face changed when she said that, and he pulled her into his arms. He looked at Hadley over her head. What do we do?
“Clare.” She rubbed the priest’s back. “Have you been thinking Rose and Tiny were dead this whole time?”
Clare pushed away from her husband. “Yes! And the fact she’s alive and managed to call me feels like a deliverance.” She held up her phone. “So even if it’s a trap, we need to go, and we need to go now. Because if we don’t get her away from him…”
The swinging door to the living room opened and a college-aged girl peeked in. “Um … Sorry to butt in, Uncle Russ. Are you still going to need me to babysit this afternoon?”
The chief pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “We are, Emma.” He looked at Clare. “Just not so we can go shopping.”