Chapter 15
As she emerged on the street behind Ms. Betty’s house, Mary fumbled with the zipper on her coat. Her decision to leave Nick’s rental car had been a hard one.
No sooner had he entered Betty’s house Mary had received a text message from her father’s cell phone. A flutter of excitement soon became a lump of dread, settling deep in her belly.
Bring the package to Santa’s house by midnight. Come alone or
YOUR FATHER DIES
Mary read the message twice, her hands shaking. She didn’t have a package. But she had a good idea who did.
She’d glanced at Ms. Betty’s house, hesitant to wait for Nick and Ms. Betty. She couldn’t let Nick leave her at the police station while someone else attempted the package delivery. It was too risky. Whoever had her father expected her to deliver the package. She couldn’t stand the thought of being held hostage by well-intentioned officers of the law, while her father was in danger.
Images of Bob Feegan’s limp body lying in the snow surfaced, causing her body to quake. With every step, she peered into the inky shadows. With every moan of the wind or snapping twig, she jumped and spun in a circle, searching for its source, imagining some killer dogging her footsteps.
The note her father left made more sense now that she’d been by to see Ms. Reedy.
The Shop Around the Corner was a story about a woman receiving mail at a post office box. Chris had been sent to collect a package her father had expected to be delivered at his Fairbanks post office box. Find Chris and she’d find the package. She had to get to Chris and the package. Her father’s life depended on it.
If Chris were in trouble, he would have headed back to North Pole. But where would he hide?
When Chris’s parents abandoned him to head south, Chris had managed to stay in the trailer his parents had rented for the three years they’d lived in North Pole. He’d managed to survive for the first four months because it was still summer, the temperatures hadn’t dipped into the teens and lower. Thankfully, Mary’s father had caught on to his plight before the freezing temperatures of winter set in with a vengeance.
As far as Mary knew, the trailer was in such bad shape, it had never been rented out again. The property owner pretty much abandoned the home. Could Chris have gone there to hide out until he could rendezvous with Santa?
Mary’s footsteps quickened, the moon and stars lighting her way through the streets and backyards. Ten blocks didn’t sound like much, but clear skies meant no clouds to hold in any of the residual daytime heat. The thermometer would plummet below negative twenty. A light breeze kicked up, penetrating her jacket.
By the time she reached the edge of the lot where the lone trailer sat, her fingers burned with the cold, and she questioned her sanity at running away from someone as solid and safe as Nick. So what if the agent had enough secrets to last a lifetime? He knew his stuff. Knew how to combat a killer. If a maniac wanted to eliminate everyone vaguely associated with her father, he’d have an easy target in Mary.
Her steps slowed and her body shook violently. She’d check Chris’s old home and then hustle back to someplace warm. Maybe back to Nick. The thought of being safe and warm inside the police station wasn’t sounding so bad after clumping through snowdrifts.
The trailer stood like a dark, hulking monster at the end of a deserted road. Spruce trees studded the yard like silent sentries. The branches were flocked in four inches of fluffy white. Snow lay a foot deep on the roof and piled waist-high in drifts around the base. Virgin snow, untouched by human feet.
Across the street from the trailer, Mary hunkered down near the trunk of a tree, hoping her light blue jacket and snowpants blended with the snow, tinged blue by moonlight. She scanned the empty road and the shadows beneath nearby trees. Nothing moved.
Keeping to the tree line as best she could, she maneuvered to the edge of the road, then raced across to the back of the trailer.
Her heart fluttered and she sucked in a gasp.
The snow at the rear entrance had been trampled. Someone had been here recently. But how recently?
A twig snapped and a shadow moved beneath the trees headed away from her.
Mary didn’t think, just raced after the shadow. Was it Chris? Hope welled, propelling her forward.
The retreating figure ducked behind a dark structure deep in the woods.
Halfway between the trailer and what looked like an old shed, Mary returned to her senses. What was she doing? She didn’t know who that was out there. It could be the killer, leading her farther away so that no one would hear her cries for help.
Fear brought her to a stumbling halt. She’d spun in the opposite direction and took her first step back the way she came when a voice called out.
“Mary?”
“Chris?” Mary turned back toward the crumbling shed. “Chris? Is that you?”
The young man eased from behind the rotting boards, his head turning right, then left before he stepped out into the moonlight. “Yeah, it’s me.”
“What are you doing out here?” She hurried toward him and wrapped him in her arms. “We’ve been so worried.”
