Nick handed her a sandwich and slipped his gloves on while juggling his own. “Must have been hungry.”
“Or she was getting extras for a guest.”
“Let’s find out. Where does she live?”
“In a little house on Flight Street.”
“Do we have to take a snowmobile?”
Mary smiled. “A car will make it.”
They hiked back to the rental car at the B and B and made the short drive to Flight Street in complete silence, each munching on their sandwiches.
When they pulled up the snowy drive, Betty Reedy flung open the door and ran out to greet them. She wore her house slippers but no coat, her forehead creased in a deep frown. “Mary, I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do. I can’t find Chris. He’s missing. And your father hasn’t checked in like he said he would.”
“What? Wait a minute.” Mary held the woman at arm’s length. “Did you say my father hasn’t checked in?”
Betty’s hand clapped over her mouth, her eyes widening. The older woman dropped her hand and sighed. “Oh, shoot-fire. What does it matter anyway? You might as well know it all.” She shot a narrow-eyed glare at Nick and then turned her gaze to Mary. “Can he be trusted?”
Mary stared up at Nick. The silence lengthened.
His brows rose. “Do you trust me, Mary?”
Her gaze collided with his and she nodded. “With my life.” As she spoke the words, she knew beyond a doubt the truth of them. But she didn’t trust him or any man with her heart. Oh, she wanted to, but the nature of the situation excluded him from the happily-ever-after scenarios.
Frigid wind blasted through the trees. A violent shiver shook Betty’s frame. “What am I thinking? Come inside, come inside before we all catch our deaths.” She shot a glance in a three-hundred-sixty-degree circle before hustling them through the front door, closing it firmly behind them. She didn’t stop herding them until they were standing in the living room.
Mary brushed off Betty’s attempt to take her coat. “What’s going on, Ms. Betty?”
Betty Reedy crossed the floor to the couch where what looked like a thirty-pound yellow tabby lay sprawled across the seat cushion. She lifted the cat in her arms and ran her hand across the animal’s fur. “Cookie, oh, Cookie, what else can we do?”
When she finally turned to Mary, she hugged the cat to her face and sighed. “Your father’s been in hiding since he was reported missing the other day. He’d been holing up in my house and amongst other friends for the past few days. He was here earlier today. I guess until he heard about Bob Feegan.” Betty’s eyes filled. “I just wonder if Ch-Santa was out there when the gunman shot Bob?”
Nick shook his head. “We didn’t see Santa and we were there. Too late to help Mr. Feegan, though.”
“Oh, dear Lord.” Betty set the cat on the floor and grasped Mary’s hands. “Tell me you didn’t put yourself in danger. Your father never would have had you come home if he’d known you’d be in danger. He’s beside himself with worry for everyone in North Pole.”
Mary held tight to Betty’s hands. “I couldn’t be anywhere else, you know that. If my father is in trouble, I have to do everything I can to help. That’s what family does.” Her gaze shifted from Betty to Nick.
His dark-eyed stare gave nothing away. For a long moment, his gaze held hers. Then he nodded. “We have to find Mr. Claus.”
“He’s not the only person I’m anxious to find.” A tear slipped down Ms. Betty’s cheek. “Chris is missing now.”
“Chris?” The cold seemed to infiltrate Mary’s body, filling her belly with dread. Her father was a grown man with a military background, capable of defending himself to some extent. Chris was a teen, friendly to everyone. “What do you mean Chris is missing?”
“He went to the post office in Fairbanks. I haven’t seen him since.”
Santa in hiding, Chris missing, mysterious visits to post offices in other towns...all the conspiracies jumbled in Mary’s mind until she couldn’t make heads or tails of any of it. “Why was Chris in Fairbanks?”
“I dropped Chris off before I went in to see Reuben. The boy was supposed to check for a package your father expected and meet me at the hospital. I waited for four hours and he never showed. I drove by the post office and didn’t see him. That’s when I came back here.”
“Why wouldn’t my father have his package delivered to the North Pole post office?”
“He didn’t want anyone to intercept it. He said it was very important.”
Important enough to kill for. Mary squeezed Betty’s fingers, warming them with her own, trying to reassure the older woman, when she felt no certainty of her own. “What time of day did you drop Chris off in Fairbanks?”
“An hour after we talked this morning. He should have been back by now.” Betty dropped Mary’s hands, crossed to the windows and peered around the curtains. “I’m so afraid for him.”
