Mistletoe And Murder. Florence Case
go to Mom and Dad’s. Mom was sweet in the hospital, but she kept begging me to move back home where I’d be safe. You were a lifesaver. I was close to buckling under the pressure.”
“Sure you were.” Ginny, who knew better, grinned. She stepped away from the tree to join Mallory at the other end of the sofa.
“Your dad was there when I arrived to get you. How did it go?”
“He told Mom if I came home I needed to pay room and board.”
Ginny winced, her brown eyes filling with sympathy. “You almost got blown up, and that’s all your father said?”
Mallory shrugged. After years of that kind of thing out of Gideon Larsen, she’d come to expect it. That didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt, but there was nothing she could do. No one could change the past, or her part in it.
But it wasn’t important now. She had her own life, and her parents had theirs. She picked up her cell from beside her. “It’s time for me to try Shamus again. He’s going to talk to me whether he wants to or not.”
“Since he hasn’t answered all your other messages, I’m thinking that’s a definite ‘not,’” Ginny said, tucking her feet underneath her. “Why on earth would you want to talk to him that badly? He’s a jerk.”
Mallory held up her hand for Ginny to wait a couple seconds, then answered the other woman’s question in the message she left for Shamus.
“Hi, Mallory again. I know you’re probably busy trying to help the police find Bud Tripp, and I’m sorry for bothering you so much. It’s just, now that I’m well, I have to get started on my promise to help Tara, and I’ve decided the fastest way to do that would be to find Mr. Tripp myself. I just really wanted to talk to you before I start looking. Thanks.”
Mallory tapped the disconnect button triumphantly. “That ought to get a response.”
It did. Ginny’s feet hit the floor, her long, blond hair swinging. She stood up, her eyes filled with concern.
“Tell me you were going for shock value to get Shamus to call back,” she said. “Tell me you’re not truly planning on…” Her voice drifted off as her gaze turned horrified at the sight of Mallory’s resolute one.
“Oh, Mallory. You are going to look for Tripp.”
“Of course I am.” Mallory put the phone back down beside her. “If I find Mr. Tripp and persuade him to turn himself in, it solves three problems. The police and the FBI will be that much closer to the person behind the bombing and Tara’s kidnapping. I won’t have to revoke Mr. Tripp’s probation, and Tara will have her father home when they find her, not sitting in some jail cell.” The teenager would have someone with her who really cared, unlike what had happened to her after…
Ginny shook her head and sat back down. “It’s too dangerous for you to get in the middle of this. Whoever is behind the bombing might be just playing games right now while he gets ready to kill someone. Why be a target?”
“If the man was a killer, he wouldn’t have told Mr. Tripp to get Shamus and me out.” She’d had plenty of time to leave before the bomb went off. Getting trapped had been her own fault. “But you agree Tripp couldn’t have been behind this?”
“Sure. It’s not logical. Why would he want to blow up the building? You said he was basically honest, with a conscience. Plus, you said he was scared to death.”
“He was.” It felt really good knowing Ginny agreed with her, when the detective in charge had not ruled out Tripp’s involvement. Kidnappings, he’d said, had been faked in the past for all sorts of reasons.
“But don’t change the subject,” Ginny told her. “You might not think Tripp is dangerous, but sometimes you’re a little too trusting of people. What if Tripp is ordered to kill you if you try to take him to the police department to be questioned? If the mastermind threatens his daughter’s life, who do you think Tripp is going to choose?”
Mallory had to admit she was right about the danger. But she had promised Tara Tripp she would help her, and she couldn’t back down. To make Ginny feel better, Mallory compromised. “How about if I just gave my ideas on where to find Tripp to the police?”
Ginny’s face filled with relief. “That would be wonderful. And you’ll stop talking to Burke, too, right?”
“Uh, no.” She wasn’t giving in on that. “Why should I stop talking to Shamus?”
“Because he’s got to be the one the bomber is targeting, and you could get caught in the middle.”
“We don’t know Shamus is the target yet.” The police weren’t telling her a thing.
“Of course we do,” Ginny corrected. “You said the man talking to Tripp through the microphone mentioned Burke? I’m betting someone wants to get revenge on him again, the way that man did when he killed Burke’s wife.
“Think about it, Mal. In the five years I’ve been at the probation department, no probationer has attacked us in our building—until Shamus came to work there. Very few people take offense at being monitored by a kind probation officer, but I’ll bet a lot did when Mr. Personality was arresting people. He’s probably a maniac magnet.”
“He hasn’t always been like he is now. I told you that when he started working with us.” Mallory’s face flushed. Keeping calm was an effort, but she was determined to do it. “He was happy. Interested in everyone, and always trying to do things for others.”
“I didn’t mean to get you upset—you’re supposed to be recuperating.” Ginny looked genuinely sorry as she picked up a pillow and cradled it in her arms. “I remember when you told me about already knowing him. I never said anything then, but I need to now. You said Shamus was that way at church, and you didn’t know him otherwise socially. He could have been putting on a front for all of you there to fit in, maybe to please his wife. Who knows? For certain, there have been no signs of the man you’re describing in our office. Not one.”
Mallory took a deep breath. “I don’t think he’s a hypocrite, Ginny.” Her voice was so calm. God was helping her.
Ginny stared at her for a long moment. “You might want to consider if your heart isn’t getting in the way of your common sense where Shamus is concerned.”
“I don’t have romantic feelings for him.” She didn’t. Shamus might never change back to the man he once was, and the man he was now was too much like her father. “I was just trying to live my faith and be kind to him.”
“Faith.” Ginny brushed the idea away with her manicured fingertips. “All month he’s ignored you, scowled at you and turned down every offer of friendship, no matter how hurt you looked. What kind of Christian would do that?”
“One who is suffering a great deal of pain,” Mallory said firmly.
Ginny put down her pillow and stood. “Sometimes I think you carry Christianity too far, Mal. I don’t get how you can let someone walk all over you like Shamus did, and still defend him. I can’t. I hope he continues to ignore your calls, because I’d hate it if you got caught right in the middle of his battle with a demon from his past.”
Mallory watched her walk down the hall to her kitchen, then stared down at the cell phone by her side. Was she being naïve about Shamus? Was he a hypocrite, putting on a show at church when he was another way at home?
She put that question aside and considered what she knew for certain about him.
He’d saved her life by going back into a burning building for her.
He’d shown true concern for her in his unguarded moments in the parking lot afterward, when he’d held her in his arms.
He’d taken charge of Mosey’s Santa so it wouldn’t get lost or broken, despite the fact that he was furious she’d gone back for it. For a second she’d thought he would