Christmas Hideout. Susan Sleeman
the official reports won’t show their response.”
“They didn’t keep a record? How can that be?”
“They have a record. It’s just recorded on their blotter instead of in the official arrest system. Blotter records will show that they responded to your residence and the results of their response. Unfortunately, though, these aren’t readily available to outside agencies.”
“But you will request them, right? So you know I’m telling the truth.”
He gave a clipped nod. “Do you have any reason to believe Harmon would know your whereabouts right now?”
“Would he?” Panic flared. “No...no...he didn’t follow us. I made sure of that. He couldn’t, right?”
“He is a police officer and would know how to tail you without you being aware of it.”
“Oh, no...yes, he could. He was in the parking lot and saw me leave.”
“What about your phone? Is it turned on?”
“No...no. I was worried he could trace it, so I left it in the apartment. With the car breaking down, I’m not sure that was a good decision. I planned to buy a new phone, but I don’t have money. I can call my sister in the morning. She’ll bring my wallet to me, and I can get that phone and also pay for the cabin.”
“No.” He fired her a sharp warning look. “That’s not a good idea.”
Her heartbeat shot up. “Why not?”
“If what you say about Harmon is true, he could be watching your apartment, and she could lead him here.”
“Yes, right. Yes. I can totally see him doing that. But what do I do? I need money to fix my car. To pay for this cabin.” Her heart sank. “What have I done taking off like that? I shouldn’t have been so hasty. But Emilie... I had to protect her. I just had to.”
The deputy took a step closer. “We can work all of that out in the morning. For now, let’s solve the immediate problem of where you’ll spend the night. You can’t stay here. I—”
“I know,” she interrupted. “We’re trespassing. The owners will be angry. I’ll get our things, and we’ll leave.” She started to rise.
He held up his hand, his eyes narrowing into a hard look that gave her a moment’s pause, and she didn’t dare move another muscle.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said.
Oh, right! She’d misunderstood, but now she got it. “You’re going to arrest me...aren’t you?” Thoughts zinged through her brain. “What about Emilie? What will happen to her? I don’t...no...I...”
“No, wait. Let me explain.” He flashed up his hand again. “I’m not arresting you, and I’m not tossing you out into the cold. My family owns this ranch, and they’re out of town, so I’m housesitting for them. I won’t leave you in the cabin. Not alone. Harmon could have followed you, and you aren’t safe. I’d like you to stay up at the main house.”
“With you?”
“I’m not a threat.”
“No offense, but I didn’t think Grady was a threat, either, and look where I am now.” If her arms had been free, she would cross them to tell him she meant business.
He looked like he wanted to sigh but didn’t. “You and Emilie can stay on the second floor, and I’ll sleep on the first floor. The house was built in the 1800s. The stairs creak something fierce, and you’ll hear anyone who tries to come up the staircase.”
“I don’t—”
That sigh he’d been fighting finally came pouring out. “The way I see it, you only have two other options—sleep in your car while I park my vehicle next to you, or I stay in this small cabin with you. Whatever your decision, I won’t leave you to fend for yourself when you could be in danger.” His tone had taken on a life of its own, fierce and to the point, but instead of scaring her, she believed it meant if danger lurked he’d be right there fighting it back. Grady had often tried to manage her the same way, but this deputy’s caring tone said he had her best interest at heart, where Grady had just seemed to want his own way.
“We’ll stay at the house,” she said and got up with Emilie.
She only hoped this man—this big, towering deputy, a fierce defender of the downtrodden if she could believe him—was the man he claimed to be, and she wasn’t making a big mistake that could cost her or Emilie dearly. After all, she’d trusted Grady and that didn’t work out well for them. Not well at all.
The next morning, something tickled Matt’s nose, and he shifted on the couch to brush it off. A giggle came from beside him as he attempted to go back to sleep. He flashed his eyes open and met the very big blue eyes of Nicole’s daughter gazing at him, an impish grin on her face as she brushed the tail of a stuffed monkey against his nose. Morning sun streamed through the ranch house’s picture window behind her, giving her feathery blond hair a soft halo.
“Hi,” she said, her voice squeaky and high.
“Hi.” He blinked hard to try to come fully alert after being awake most of the night worrying about this munchkin and her mother. He didn’t much like the fact that he’d been sleeping hard enough not to hear this tiny imp come down the stairs. He had to do a better job of staying alert for this little family.
He smiled at her. “I’m Matt, and you must be Emilie.”
“Uh-huh.” She gave him a shy smile.
“Where’s your mother?”
“In bed.”
“Does she know you’re down here?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Do you think we should tell her?”
“She’s sleeping. Don’t want to wake her up.” She bit her lower lip for a moment. “I’m hungry.”
Matt glanced at the large grandfather clock. It had been in his family for generations, sitting on the mantel. Wow, it was eight already. The only time he slept this late was when he worked the graveyard shift, but after he’d gotten Nicole and Emilie settled in a guest room upstairs, he’d tossed and turned on the sofa until the wee hours of the morning. The stern face of Grady Harmon as seen on his driver’s license kept invading Matt’s thoughts. Matt had done a basic background check on Harmon before he’d gone to sleep last night. The guy had so many advantages as a police officer and knew how to work the system. He also knew how criminals thought and could emulate them when it came to stalking Nicole.
The very thought left Matt unsettled and worried. He still felt that way and would follow up on that blotter information for Harmon’s restraining order to discover if Nicole’s story was true.
He swung his feet to the floor. “Do you like chocolate chip pancakes?”
“Yummy.”
“Then follow me to the kitchen, and I’ll make a batch.” He stood and stepped into the foyer.
Emilie stopped near a ten-foot Christmas tree covered in family heirloom ornaments. The pine scent filled the space.
She stared up at it. “I like your Christmas tree.”
“Me, too. My mom and nana decorate it every year. Some of these ornaments are as old as my granddad.”
Her eyes widened in appreciation.
Matt pointed at a varnished dough snowman. “My nana made each of us a snowman with our names and birthdates. This one is mine.”
“I want one with my name, too.”
“I’m sure if you asked Nana when she gets home today she’ll make one for you.”
“Goody.” She danced with joy and