Chapter 8
N ick was on his rounds of the mall when Silver Jr. came out of the storage area. “Hey, Junior.”
“Jolley.” Junior gave a nod to Nick and kept moving.
Nick picked up his pace. “Got a minute?”
Junior huffed. “I have to get this door fixed. What’s up?”
“Did you hear from Garmen?”
“Cliff? Not since last week. I figured he just blew off the job.”
“That’s weird. He seemed like a responsible guy. Always on time.” Nick walked beside him as they talked.
“Yeah, but old habits die hard.” Junior dropped his toolbox. “I need to grab the ladder. Is that it?”
Before Nick could answer, Junior booked it back to the hallway.
“Yeah, old habits.” Did Junior have issues with his old habits, or did he know something about Garmen’s behaviors?
Nick’s phone rang. Unknown number. His finger hovered over the screen. It could be Ava’s teacher… or Michelle. He should have programmed hers into his phone. He answered, “Jolley, here.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes. Can you pull up the security feed of the truck?” Mickey’s words rushed from the phone. Did she have something? His pulse picked up .
“Got it.” Nick was already heading back to his office as he replied. Questions spun in his head. But instead of peppering her, he only asked one. “Did you find it?”
“Not yet, but I think I found a connection. We need to scroll back farther on the security video.”
Just then, tires squealed through the phone. Metal crunched. The sound boomed in his ear. “Mickey?”
“I gotta go,” Michelle shouted and disconnected.
What the fuck just happened?
Ice cold vibes trickled down his neck. They screamed for him to move. Faster. Faster. Nick pumped his arms, pushing himself to full capacity as he ran through the mall. The sound of distant sirens filled the air. He hit the courtyard and didn’t slow down. There was trouble. His gut knew it.
Nick passed his office and kept running… straight toward the road.
***
She couldn’t believe her eyes. The stoplight turned green, and all hell broke loose. Michelle was halfway through the intersection when she heard the squeal of tires, the telltale sounds of vehicles playing bumper tag. She flipped on the lights and executed a U-turn when screams filled the air.
Santa lay in the road.
She bolted from her car, relaying the information on the incident into the radio mic on her shoulder as she booked it across the lane to the man on the ground.
“Vehicular accident on Fifth and Elm. I need a bus. One injured for sure.” She pushed by a woman holding her phone and mumbling .
“I was stopped. I swear.” She turned back to the elementary-age kids, two of them, now out of the minivan. “Get in the van.”
“Santa? Mom, did you kill Santa?” the older one wailed as the younger one clung to his mom’s leg and stared at the man in red on the ground.
“Ma’am. Please wait in your van.” Michelle didn’t have time to deal with the woman and her kids at the moment. She slipped a hand under the mass of curls on his face to find his pulse. Alive. “Sir? Sir, can you hear me?”
No response.
She pulled down the beard and froze. Russ Jolley had a trickle of blood under the edge of his hat. What was he doing walking around in his Santa suit? “Russ, can you hear me?”
Nothing. Her training kicked in. She could hear the sirens getting closer. “Santa?”
A groan slipped from his lips.
Thank God. “Russ. Santa. It’s Officer Swenson, Mickey. I got you. Hang in there.”
The fire/medics pulled up and Walker Evans and Erica Randall jumped out. Russ was in good hands.
“He’s breathing, but not responsive.” She stepped back and let them work. After a quick assessment, they had him on a gurney and were loading him into the ambulance.
“What’s going on?” A chill that had nothing to do with the cold zipped down her spine. Nick. She turned to face him. He was jogging across the intersection. He froze the second he saw his father. “Dad?”
“Nick.” she crossed to him. “Go with them. I have some work here before I can leave.”
“What was he doing out here in his suit?” Nick’s fist balled as he turned to the minivan .
“I don’t know. It was an accident. I’m going to talk to the driver now. You should go with your dad.” She gave him a shove toward the ambulance.
He shot a deadly glare at the woman in the van.
“Nick. Go.”
He dropped his gaze to her, and it softened. The fear and confusion showed through the cracks of his composure. He nodded and climbed into the ambulance with his dad.
With everything going on, Michelle hadn’t noticed Jenkins and Brannon working the scene. Perimeter tape was up and a crowd had formed.
She blew out a breath as she watched the vehicle holding Russ and Nick go. Lights flashing, but no siren. That’s good. He was stable if they didn’t have full sound.
Time to get to work. She walked wide around the scene to the minivan. A harrowed woman shushed her kids. “He will be alright. No, mommy didn’t kill Santa.” She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “I didn’t, did I?”
Michelle hoped not. Russ was alive when they took him to the hospital. She needed to remember that. “Can I have your license and registration, please?”
Flustered, the woman pulled them out of her bag.
“Can you tell me what happened, Ma’am?” Michelle asked, while filling out the report information.
“Oh, crud. Okay. I was waiting for the light. The kids were excited, Santa was on the corner. I looked in my rearview to talk to them when, all of a sudden, I felt the van move. Like I was being pushed.”
Michelle held up a hand then walked to the back of the van. A dent. She looked at the ground. Chips of matching paint. Definitely new. She scanned the area. The vehicle directly behind her appeared undamaged.
Odd. She moved to the driver’s side. He lowered his window, and she asked, “Did you see the accident, sir?”
“No, I got here just before the ambulance pulled up.”
She cocked her head. “Did you see another vehicle driving away?”
“No.”
“Thank you. Please wait and I will be back.” She walked back to the van, surveying the area, onlookers, and the road. Tire tracks cut to the left. It could be from the hit-and-run vehicle.
Back at the van, she asked. “Can you describe the vehicle that hit you?”
“A truck? I can’t say for sure. It all happened so fast.”
“Color?”
“White.”
Michelle’s head whipped up from her tablet. “Could it have been a van?”
“Maybe. I was shocked at first. Then the kids started screaming that I killed Santa.” Tears glistened in her eyes.
“Okay, please stay here. I or another officer will be right with you.”
It couldn’t be. No. There were a ton of white vans and trucks in the city. A high percentage of work vehicles were that color. Chances of this hit-and-run being the same truck were slim to none… and slim was on a bus out of town.
Yeah, coincidences were rare in her opinion. Who would want to hurt Santa? Or more specifically, Russ?
The same person who would steal his sleigh.
She needed to talk to Nick. Now.