A Family For The Holidays. Sherri Shackelford
along the bottom.
The years slipped away and she was five years old again. Each night when her father returned from work, he had emptied his pockets of coins and dollars into a similar box. She glanced at the footprints once more. The intruder had known exactly what he was looking for.
Though rifling through a stranger’s belongings went against her nature, she opened the second drawer and discovered a stack of folded blue handkerchiefs. Her heart kicked in her chest. She’d seen the same handkerchief before.
Lifting her head, she gazed out the window. Emil’s bedroom directly overlooked the hotel and the boardwalk, where a wooden chair sat empty.
I like the view.
She squeezed her eyes shut and pictured Jake’s boots. Pointed tips. How could she forget? She’d stared at them propped on the boardwalk rail for nearly twenty minutes. The footprints in the snow had been square-toed.
“Oh, dear.”
She had a bad feeling Emil’s troubles were wrapped up with a man who wore a peacock embroidered vest and winked without closing his eye.
She closed the lid with a snap and hastily exited the space.
Sensing the change in her mood, Sam scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine. When we return to the hotel, pack your belongings. We might have to leave in a hurry.” She knelt before Sam and Peter and held their hands. “I want you to know that no matter what, I’ll always look out for you. I won’t let anything bad happen.”
Peter clutched his package. “Can we keep the presents?”
“Yes. We’ll take them with us.”
She reached for the doorknob and discovered the metal casing was bent and hung loose.
Sam paused on the threshold. “What do you suppose happened to Grandpa Emil?”
“I don’t know. But I know someone who can find out.”
* * *
Jake prowled the narrow jail cell. The building wasn’t much to look at. A squat brick structure set slightly north of the town. Only three cells flanked the back wall, a cot in each. Obviously Frozen Oaks was a quiet town without need of more lockups. The walls were rough-hewn and covered with maps and wanted posters. A tattered American flag had been haphazardly pinned between two corners.
He should have told Lily the truth. He’d been trying to protect her and instead he’d put her life in greater danger. Impotent fury settled in his chest. He’d made mistakes in his career before, especially in the beginning.
He’d never felt this powerless.
He tested the bars once again, though more to vent his frustration than discover a weakness. The cell wasn’t particularly sophisticated, but he was without tools. The sheriff had even stripped him of his shoes and belt.
The door swung open and Lily appeared in the entry.
He blinked a few times, wondering if he was hallucinating. Had the blow Sheriff Koepke delivered rattled his brain? She was just as he remembered. Her blond hair surrounded her face in a lustrous halo. Her coat was an indistinguishable shade of brown, but the hem of her bright yellow dress peeked out from beneath the wool.
His jaw hung slack. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ll explain later. Where are the keys to the cell?”
He motioned with one hand toward a narrow cupboard on the wall.
Lily and her cheerful smiles were a jaunty dash of liveliness in a desolate world. Entombed in a Nebraska winter for eight weeks, he’d begun to think the wind and snow had extracted all the color from the world. The barren landscape and drab buildings along with the constant haze had taken their toll.
With brisk efficiency she flipped open the door and retrieved the keys. “Where are your shoes?”
Being caught in his stocking feet left him feeling exposed and oddly defenseless.
“On the bench by the door.”
“Hmm.” She snatched one of his boots and studied the sole. Relief flitted across her face. “Just as I thought.”
“What did you think?”
“Never mind. What about your gun belt? You’ll need that, as well.”
“The belt is hanging on the hook above your head, but they took my guns.”
Jake doubted Sheriff Koepke planned on giving them back.
Jingling the keys, she approached his cell.
He braced his hands on the bars. “What are you doing?”
“I’m releasing you.”
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d declared she was riding an elephant in the Sahara. “You can’t. That’s against the law.”
“What does an outlaw care about breaking the law?”
Good point. “I don’t want you in trouble with the sheriff.”
“It’s my fault you were arrested,” she stated matter-of-factly. “I’m correcting the wrong. I’m letting you out.”
“That’s not how the law works.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Give me the keys.”
“Why?”
“Because if I open the door, you didn’t break the law. I did.”
“You’re a terrible outlaw.” She dangled the keys through an opening in the bars. “No wonder you got yourself arrested.”
“You have no idea.”
He awkwardly groped at the lock, turned the key and yanked open the door. “Why are you doing this?”
Unbearably relieved he’d purchased new socks the previous week, he took a seat on the bench and tugged his boots over his stocking feet.
“I’ve been doing a little investigating,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. I’ve discovered a few things about Vic Skaar.”
Jake’s attention sharpened. “What does Vic Skaar have to do with breaking me out of jail?”
“I searched Emil’s rooms above the barbershop today. Someone had already been there.”
A cold sweat broke out on his aching forehead. “Promise me you’re done with sleuthing, Miss Winter. It’s far too dangerous.”
“I won’t promise you anything. Whoever searched the barbershop knew Emil wasn’t there. He knew Emil wasn’t going to catch him. Don’t you find that suspicious?”
Jake wrapped his gun belt around his waist. He tightened the buckle, then strapped the second tie around his thigh.
The empty holster weighed on his nerves. “And you think you know the identity of this mysterious housebreaker?”
“Don’t pretend you don’t know who. The ruse doesn’t suit you. The view you were enjoying the other day faced the barbershop. When I saw Vic at the restaurant, he had a blue handkerchief in his pocket. I found the same blue handkerchiefs with Emil’s belongings.”
While Jake admired her investigative skills, he didn’t want her involved in the case. “Coincidence. There’s only one store in town. Why break into someone’s room for a handkerchief?”
“The place was dusty. Vic is clearly fastidious. He searched the rooms, wiped his hands on the handkerchief, then stuck it in his pocket out of habit.”
Jake stifled a groan. “You’re too smart for your own good.”
Keeping