“We are going to the house. First, we have to get into the shop.”
“You’re the expert on Christmas Towne, lead the way.” He handed her the key.
When they were inside, a beeping sound alerted Nick to trouble. An alarm.
“Don’t worry. It’s the security system. Let’s just hope they haven’t changed the code.” On a wall next to the door was a plastic box with a numerical keypad. She punched in numbers, then stood back, biting her lip. The machine immediately stopped beeping and Mary sighed. “Whew.”
Low lights illuminated the interior with a soft glow, allowing them to move through the shadowy aisles in the back storage area. Mary came to a halt in front of another door. “I used to play hide-and-seek down here.” She opened the door and descended wooden steps into the basement.
It was as large as the building above. Wooden and metal shelves lined the walls and formed more aisles, stacked with everything from boxing materials for shipping products to additional inventory.
Mary hurried through the shelves and aisles until she came to what looked like a closet door on the south side of the building. When she opened it, a water heater and furnace filled the small space with little room to spare for the mop bucket and mop leaning to the side of the water heater.
Nick checked his watch. It was already twelve-thirty. “We need to hurry.”
Mary smiled back at him, her teeth shining in the glow of her penlight. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there. I told you. I used to play down here when I was a little girl. It was my secret place.”
Nick’s brows rose. “A secret?”
Mary frowned. “A secret that didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Still, it’s a secret.”
“A different kind of secret.” She grabbed the mop handle and rolled the mop bucket out, setting it against the opposite wall. Then she removed her bulky jacket, hung it on a nail on the inside wall of the tiny room. Turning sideways, she scooted past the water heater and disappeared.
Nick’s heart dropped into his gut like a lead rock. “Mary?”
“It’s okay. I think you can fit. My father could.”
A hinge creaked and a waft of cooler air caressed Nick’s cheeks.
“Your turn, come on,” Mary said, her words a fading echo as if she was moving away.
Nick removed his jacket and, mimicking Mary’s movements, flattened his back against the wall next to the water heater. The space was tight, but Nick made it around the metal tank and found an open wooden door behind it. He pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and pointed it in the direction Mary had gone. The passageway was a narrow burrow through the earth lined with river stone and sturdy timbers. A light blinked on at the end of the tunnel and Mary appeared as a dark silhouette framed in the tunnel.
“This way.”
Nick emerged into a room the size of a large walk-in closet, lit by a single exposed bulb hanging from a socket in the ceiling. Old trunks and cardboard boxes full of discarded toys lay in disarray. In the corner sat a child-size vanity mirror with a matching seat covered in faded roses.
“This was my secret cubby.” Mary sat on the floor in the middle of the cubby, her gaze panning the room, a shining glaze making her blue eyes glisten in the dim lighting. “I remember the last time I came down here. It was after my mother died. I was only twelve.” She squatted next to the vanity and ran her finger over the wood, tracing a path through the dust. “She would spend hours playing dress-up with me.”
“You look like her,” Nick said without thinking. Based on the photo in her room, she was the spitting image of Olivia Claus.
“I know.” Mary glanced in the mirror, a sad smile curving her lips. “But I have my father’s eyes.”
Nick’s chest tightened. He’d never known his own mother or father, having been left with social services at the age of three. Witnessing Mary’s sorrow over the loss of the mother she’d known all her young life, Nick thought perhaps he’d been more fortunate to never have known his parents, than to have loved and lost them.
Mary turned away from the mirror and lifted a stuffed teddy bear. “I remember the year I got this bear. I’d been with my mother and father delivering toys to the remote villages. One of the little boys received a bear just like this one.” She laughed, but it sounded more like a choked sob. “I wanted one so badly, I cried until I fell asleep on the plane.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. She crushed the bear to her face. “I woke up on Christmas morning a month later and found this bear under the tree. My parents had remembered.” Tears fell in earnest, dampening her cheeks and the teddy bear.
Nick stood in silence, his professional rules and work ethic battling with the uncontrollable urge to sweep Mary into his arms and hug away all the sorrow. The uncontrollable urge won out. Nick sat on the dusty floor and pulled Mary into his arms. “We’ll find your father,” he promised. And if it was the last thing he did, he’d keep that promise.
Mary turned her face from the bear into his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs, her fingers clutching his thick sweater.
Nick pushed the black hat from her head and ran his hand across hair as fine as silk. With each stroke, he felt himself falling deeper into trouble than he’d ever been before, and it scared him more than having an AK-47 pointed at his head. No matter how scared, he couldn’t stop himself.
Mary needed him to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right. She needed to know that someone was in this battle with her and would see her through. She needed him and that need humbled him.
When her sobs subsided, he tilted her head back and stared down into watery blue eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” He kissed the tip of her damp nose.
