Page 31 of Chasing Kaylee Kringle

“No, but no one ever thinks that a fed is dirty until you’ve either got a gun to the back of your head or a bullet in theirs. How close are we to having enough to arrest Ansel?”

“We’re doing what we can on our end. Finn has ears inside their clubhouse, and they will slip up soon. In the meantime, since you’re already there, don’t let Kaylee Taylor out of your sight.”

“It’s Kringle now.”

“What?” his boss barked.

“She goes by Kaylee Kringle now.”

“Aw, that’s cute. She could call herself Mrs. Claus, and I wouldn’t fucking care. All that matters is keeping her alive until we have the nail in these fuckers’ coffins. The last thing we want is for you to bring her back here and have the case fall apart, putting her in more danger. Right now, they have no idea where she is, but if we produce her and the judge throws out the case, everyone will know who she is, because there is no way she doesn’t end up in the press.”

When Kaylee came forward before, they were able to keep it in-house and get her to a safe place before anyone caught wind of her as a witness. Now, they had a whole town to hide from, and although Rick’s boss had given the local cops as little as possible, there was still a chance that something could go wrong.

“Roger that. I’ll keep her safe.”

“I know. Next time you go off script, though, I’m sanctioning your ass.”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” the mayor called out into the microphone.

“What’s that?” Scott asked.

“They are about to light a giant potato.”

“What the fuck? You have fun in Hicksville. I’ll let you know when we’ve got something.”

“All right, thanks,” he said, but Scott had already ended the call. Rick slipped his phone into his pocket and stood in the shadows, listening to the mayor’s speech.

“Our tradition of potato lighting started fifty years ago, when a group of fifth graders made potato lights with Christmas house bulbs and went around town singing Christmas carols. That tradition inspired this night, a time when we come together and sing and light potatoes and celebrate living in this wonderful community.” The crowd cheered, their voices dying off when he waved his hands in the air. “Fifteen years ago, a brilliant team of young artists created a large potato statue as a prank and left it in the town square. The people of Holiday loved the idea of replacing the giant Christmas tree we had to buy every year with a stationary potato we could decorate with lights and share a special holiday tradition. The fact that both of the things that make Christmas special here came from children says how fantastical the young mind can be. And this year is especially joyful because Small Town USA featured Holiday on their show, and I am so proud of this town for pulling it all together!” More cheers, and he put his hand on the lever, grinning. “Are we ready to light this spud for real?”

Without waiting for an affirmative, the mayor pushed the lever, and green and red lights came to life along the brown skin of the potato statue. On top of the structure, a white star twinkled, and Rick clapped along with everyone else, chuckling. This town was definitely interesting.

Suddenly, a thunderous battle cry sounded from the edge of the trees behind the mayor, and three people wearing Mr. Potato Head masks rushed past him and toward the crowd. With the exception of boots and masks, they were naked.

“Happy holidays!” one of them crowed.

There were several screams, and Rick saw a couple mothers covering their kids’ eyes.

“Grab them!” the mayor shouted into the mic.

One officer gave chase and managed to grab hold of one of them, but they twisted away and escaped down the street. The officer looked at his hand and wiped it on his chest.

“They’re covered in some kind of oil!”

“Tackle them!”

But the trio was already halfway down the street, cackling. One of them taunted, “You’ll never catch us, coppers!”

Rick chuckled. It was a hokey line, but the event left the mayor red-faced and blustering. He seemed to take a deep breath to get ahold of himself, pasting a smile on his face.

“Here’s to an amazing holiday season, and don’t forget to visit Santa and tell him what you want most for Christmas!”

People took off in all different directions. The parents with small children were heading for a red shed with fake snow on the roof and sparkling lights along the trim. In the doorway, Santa stood waving at everyone. Rick had seen people walking around holding potatoes with wires and green or red lights poking out the top. There was a food truck called Tater This that sold a wide variety of potato products, including french fries, tater tots, and baked potatoes with a range of toppings, such as chili, baked beans, pulled pork, nacho cheese, and barbeque chicken with mac and cheese. There were other local businesses selling food, drinks, and merchandise, and people were lined up for everything, chatting with those around them.

Paulette came over, wearing a camo sweatshirt and jeans, her hair tossed in a messy bun. “Hello, Agent.”

Rick frowned, having told her several times not to call him that. “It’s just Rick.”

“Are you enjoying our festival, Rick?” she asked, holding a container of chili fries. The scent of spicy meat and cheese wafted over him, making his stomach growl.