"Hey, Tony."

"What?" Tony barked, looking up from the journal. His voice softened. "Oh, hi, Macy. I didn't realize it was you. How are things in the crime lab?"

"Busy, as usual." Macy stepped into the room. "Do you need some help going through those boxes? I'm off the clock."

"I appreciate the offer, but it's Christmas Eve, Macy. Why don't you head on home?"

She shrugged a careless shoulder. "My folks are on a cruise and my brother is spending the holidays with his in-laws. It's just me, It's A Wonderful Life and a frozen turkey dinner."

Tony studied her for a moment and she glanced away, the color in her cheeks darkening. One corner of his mouth kicked up. "Then sure, I'd love some help. I've been staring at these files so long, I swear one of them levitated a few minutes ago."

Macy laughed and Tony watched her. Her smile faded. "Don't stop," he murmured. "You have a beautiful smile."

 

 

 

 

A Christmas Miracle

 

 

Velvet Vaughn

 

 

 

An Original Publication of

Highland Press Publishing ©2011

 

 

A Christmas Miracle ©2011 Velvet Vaughn

Cover Design 2014 Leanne Burroughs

 

Published by Highland Press Publishing at Smashwords

 

 

Produced in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher.

 

For information, please contact

Highland Press Publishing,

PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.

www.highlandpress.org

 

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

 

From the Highland Press Anthology

All I Want for Christmas Is You

ISBN: 978-0-9846541-2-3

 

HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING

 

A Wee Dram

 

 

 

Editor – Leanne Burroughs

 

 

 

 

~Prologue~

 

 

Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead. A fierce wind rattled tree branches, knocking snow from the limbs as the lawyer approached the courthouse. He flicked the white substance from his Armani overcoat with an impatient hand and tugged the lapels closer against the stiff breeze. It was winter, Christmas Eve to be exact, and the temperature had dipped below the freezing mark.

Many people considered the day before Christmas to be a holiday as well, but not Judge Bernson. The crotchety old arbitrator insisted on hearing closing arguments in a high-profile case, much to the wrath of the jury, the media, and pretty much everyone who wanted to be home with their families. The lawyer mentally shrugged. He didn't mind. He wanted to work. After all, Christmas was just another day. What did he have to feel happy about? Nothing came to mind. Although surely there must have been something sometime.

He rolled his eyes and huffed out a sigh as he neared the building. A fat man trying hard to look like Santa Claus rang an annoying bell, belting out an equally infuriating, "Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas," to one and all. Had he ever said those words to anyone? He didn’t remember what it was, but something in his life must have made him a cynic. Nothing seemed to make him happy. Every once in awhile some memory tried to break through his consciousness, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never remember what it was.

He studiously avoided eye contact and tried to sneak by, but Santa was nothing if not persistent. "Merry Christmas, son," Santa bellowed, his cheeks pink, his stomach jiggling like, yes, a bowl full of jelly. With an exasperated grumble, the lawyer drew out his wallet and stuffed a couple of bills into the red kettle.

"The true spirit of the holiday," Santa praised. "Giving to others and—" The lawyer scoffed and brushed past, ignoring the rest of Santa's sickeningly-sappy spiel. Although he thought it sounded like the man ended with “Don’t forget Christmas is the time of true miracles.”

Ha! He’d be glad when this holiday was over and people could drop the fake cheer and get back to the mean-spirited, back-stabbing nastiness he personally knew most of the population to be. He saw it every day in his job.

His gait slowed and he cursed under his breath, spotting his nemesis perched on the stone steps looking every bit the predatory creature he knew her to be.

This just wasn’t his day.

The investigative journalist's long legs went on forever, brazenly showcased in skin-tight black pants. Her honey-blonde hair fell in tumbled curls around a heart-shaped face, accentuating high cheekbones and crystal green eyes. Even a thick winter coat couldn't disguise a knock-out body with curves to die for. Most men found her beautiful. Television cameras certainly loved her. He found the cut-throat reporter to be aggressive, vain and one humongous pain.

She was also fundamentally unscrupulous. She wasn't above sleeping with a man to get a story, whether the man wanted the story told or not. And he should know.

His body reacted to the memory and his anger spiked. “What are you doing here?” he asked with measured patience as he marched up the stairs.

She studied her manicure, not bothering to deign him with a look. “It’s a free country. Besides, one of these days, you’re going to lose and I intend to be there to gloat—and report about it when you do.”

He smirked. “Since you’ll have an awfully long wait, I hope that means I’ll be able to turn on the television without seeing your annoying mug on every channel.”

That snapped her gaze to him and they stared at each other with open hostility, neither wanting to show weakness and look away first. Thunder cracked nearby but they didn’t flinch. "You know, it’s very hard to decide who is more irritating—you or Kris Kringle over there." She jerked her head in Santa's direction, never taking her eyes off him.

"Ho, ho, ho," Santa called out. “Peace and good will to all.”

"Shut-up," they chimed in unison, before returning to their narrowed-eyed stare out.

Suddenly he clutched her wrist.

“What are you doing, you Neanderthal? Get your meaty paws off me.” She grabbed the handrail for support.

“In case you didn’t notice in your everything-revolves-around-me-world, it’s damn cold out here and it sounds like a thunderstorm is brewing. I’m simply moving our argument inside.”

“It's December, you moron. The only storms we get are filled with snow."

"It's rare, but not unheard of." He glowered at her, but it didn’t seem to faze her. Why was it every time he was around her something niggled at his mind? Like some memory he couldn’t quite grasp.

"So the big, bad lawyer is afraid of a little rain? What, don’t want to ruin that hundred dollar suit?” she asked with feigned concern.

“Yeah, just like you don’t want to wreck that ten dollar dye job.”

Her eyes turned murderous. “Why you—”

Whatever else the reporter wanted to say was lost in a crash of thunder as a storm erupted with full force. A blinding flash of lightning zeroed in and struck the handrail. The reporter’s knees buckled as the current traveled from the metal bar through her body to the lawyer, stopping their hearts. Both collapsed to the damp concrete as the skies opened and rain poured down.

 

 

 

 

~1~

 

 

Tony Preston narrowed his eyes and glared at the man who dropped another box stuffed with overflowing files on his desk. Dust scattered when it hit the surface, causing him to sneeze.

Just freaking great.

You beat up one lousy perp and suddenly you’re accused of anger management issues and busted down to cold case files. On Christmas Eve, no less.

Ah well, watching that scum-bag Buddy Horton writhing on the floor in pain, his face a mangled, bloody pulp, was worth the demotion, however temporary. The man was the lowest form of degenerate. He’d been molesting his own stepdaughter when Tony broke down the door and confronted him. His six-year-old stepdaughter! Horton was lucky all Tony used were his fists. It had taken every bit of restraint he possessed to resist pulling out his SIG Sauer and shooting off Horton’s–

“Last one.” The records retention clerk broke into Tony’s vengeful thoughts as he dumped another box on top of the others. More dust shot up his nose. Tony sneezed again.

With a sigh, he stood, hefted three of the boxes and deposited them against the wall, having chosen box BD-1234 as the lucky starting point.

With a powerful puff, he forced grime from the lid and propped it open. Reaching his hand inside, he rooted around and withdrew the first file he encountered. Bennett, Elizabeth and Dempsey, William, both deceased. He peeled the sides open and began to read. Young couple, pulled from Winston Lake. But drowning wasn't the cause of death. Both had been shot at point-blank range in the forehead. No suspects, no leads. In fact, there was very little information at all.

Flipping a page, he came across an interview from Sister Rose of St. Jerome Emiliani’s Orphanage. Tony dropped the file and sat up straighter. He remembered Sister Rose. He’d lived in that orphanage when he was eight…until that night…

Shaking his head to clear it, he scanned the notes. Elizabeth, or Lizzy as she was called, and Will met at the facility. Will arrived when he was six, Lizzy that same year at age five. Will had been instantly protective, and Lizzy vowed she would marry him when they were older. They were good kids, never causing trouble, always helping others. They even volunteered their time at the orphanage tutoring the children after they grew up and left the facility. Sister Rose couldn’t believe anyone would want to harm two sweet, innocent kids.

Tony checked their ages. Twenty-one and twenty. Not exactly kids, but then he supposed anyone under forty was young to the ancient nun. He skimmed another interview, this one with a college classmate. The friend revealed that Will studied law, Lizzy journalism. They both worked hard, earning scholarships and working odd jobs to pay for school, on top of mentoring young orphans. It looked like Lizzy kept her childhood vow. The couple had been engaged to marry the summer they died.

He flipped to the back page to find a photo stapled to the folder. His breath hitched in his chest, his hands shaking so bad he could barely hold the file. He knew these two kids.

They’d saved his life.

~*~

Lizzy Bennett frowned when the woman brushed right past her, not even pausing to answer a simple question. All she wanted was the time…was that so hard? With a sigh, Lizzy plopped on a wooden bench nestled under the oak tree beside the lake. It was her favorite spot on earth, even with the lake frozen over with a thick layer of ice. Soon she was lost in thought, watching two small kids learning how to ice skate with their mother. She smiled as a little girl no more than five windmilled her arms, trying to stay upright.

A soft wind blew, ruffling tree branches. She could see the breath of the children as they laughed and frolicked, but she wasn't cold, even without a jacket, which she must have forgotten when she left the apartment.

Usually she pulled her hair up but today she longed to feel the cool breeze blowing through the thick tresses. It hung down her back in a ripple of curls. She noticed the look in Will’s eyes when she wore it this way. With a smile, she tilted her face to the cloud-drenched sky and relaxed. Christmas music piped through a speaker close by, soothing her soul.

“Hey.”

Lizzy’s eyes jerked open with a gasp. She was startled to find Will Dempsey beside her as if she’d conjured him with her very thoughts. She sprung upright.

“I'm sorry, Lizzy, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” His voice was a deep rumble. He reached out and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, his knuckles tenderly brushing her cheek. She leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay.” Her heartbeat switched from beating rapidly in fear to a pounding of excited awareness. It was a familiar feeling. The first time she’d felt it, she had been five, Will had been six with a mop of brown hair and the kindest brown eyes she’d ever seen. She fell in love with him then and her five-year-old’s crush developed into adolescent adoration and grew to mature everlasting love. He was her true soulmate, her happily ever after. “What are you doing here?”

Dark brows dipped. “I’m not sure.” He glanced around the area. “Where’s here?”

“Winston Lake, silly.” She chuckled, slapping his arm with amusement. Will had such a quirky sense of humor.

“No, Lizzy, I don’t think so.” His tone was serious. “I don’t remember those buildings.”

She smiled at his teasing but to placate him, turned and followed his gaze. And gasped. Several tall, modern-looking structures dotted the landscape. “I don’t remember them either,” she whispered.

“And there—” he pointed across the street—“where Mr. Fillimore’s produce shack used to stand.” Her head swiveled in that direction. “It’s some bank now.”

No longer the quaint market with the green and white awning where they’d stopped for fresh fruit and vegetables, the sign on the four-story brick and glass building read Bedford Springs National Bank.

Will slowly rose to his feet. Lizzy followed, slipping her hand in his strong one. “Where are we, Lizzy?”

She shook her head, fighting a panic attack. “I don’t know. This is definitely Winston Lake.” She indicated a spot on the ground. “This is where we first…” She blushed, thinking about that wonderful moment when their bodies merged as one.

It had been the night of her eighteenth birthday. Though they knew they would spend the rest of their lives together, they had waited—Will had waited—until she was of legal age before they made love. He brought her to this very spot with a picnic basket packed with her favorite treats. After they finished eating, he pulled her to her feet and her nerves fluttered. He looked so serious. Then he dropped down to one knee and asked her to be his wife.

Lizzy screamed in excitement, launching herself at him. She peppered him with kisses while he laughed, trying to calm her down so he could slip the ring on her finger. And when the diamond slid into place, he kissed her deeply with a man’s passion. They’d been making out for years, even taking things to the next level. She had touched him intimately and he had touched her as well. But Will always stopped before they actually had sex.

But this kiss, this stroke of his tongue against hers, the hand skimming her stomach, sliding under her shirt to cup her breast, this was different.

He tenderly carried her to the blanket and covered her with his body. It was dark and deserted at this time of night, so they didn’t worry about the risks of getting caught. They slowly stripped away each other’s clothes. When he entered her, she had never felt such complete joy in her entire life. It was perfection.

Will squeezed her hand, letting her know he remembered, too. “But look how big the tree is now.”

His statement snapped her from her memories. She glanced skyward. He was right…it towered into the air, much higher than she remembered.

“What’s going on, Will?”

The wind picked up speed, swirling hair into her eyes. She regretted forgetting her jacket now as a chill raced down her spine.

“Lizzy, how did you get here?”

She gathered her locks together at the nape of her neck with one hand, trying to think. Finally she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being with you.” Her eyes jerked to his in horror. “And then unthinkable, unbearable pain.”

Will’s mouth was a grim line. “Winston Lake, Lizzy. We died in that lake.”

 

 

 

 

~2~

 

 

Years spiraled away and Tony was transported back in time as he stared transfixed at the picture of the handsome man and beautiful young woman. He had only been a resident of St. Jerome Emiliani's for one week after a horrific car accident that killed his parents and left him all alone in the world. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles or cousins or distant relatives could be found. No one to care for him or help him work through his grief. He became a ward of the state and after acting up at one too many foster homes, was shipped to the orphanage. He was only eight, but he had a huge chip on his shoulder. He recalled his callous treatment of the Sisters and the other children who shared a similar fate as his own with a shudder. God forgive him, he had been a royal pain in the ass.

Then one day, a man came along and started chatting him up, asking Tony his name and where he was from. He couldn't recall clearly, but he thought he might have snarled at the man, probably did. That would have been just like him at that age. But his surly attitude didn't deter the man. He didn't coddle Tony, treat him as if he were a helpless baby like the nuns did. He said his name was Ernie and he was a lawyer. He made Tony promise not to say anything to anyone, but said he would try to find a relative who could adopt him.

Tony had no problem keeping the secret. He barely spoke to anyone at the orphanage anyway, unless to bark at them to leave him the hell alone. The Sisters just loved that. In the span of one week, he had his mouth washed out with soap five times. Probably some kind of record.

The next evening, Ernie returned and said he had wonderful news—he’d found a great-uncle who was sorry he hadn't come forward earlier, but he didn’t know Tony's parents had been killed. He would gladly adopt him and let him come live on his ranch with horses and dogs and acres and acres to roam.

While he had been a little leery of this unknown uncle, the prospect of leaving the orphanage was his biggest dream. And to get to own a dog and ride horses, well, Tony had almost wet himself in excited anticipation. Ernie told him they had to keep it quiet, sneak out to meet the uncle so the Sisters didn't find out. Since he now considered Ernie his best friend, he happily followed the man, not concerned that they were using a back entrance to the orphanage. After all, Ernie said the Sisters would be upset. When he realized it was dark outside, he started to worry. He didn’t like being outside alone at night. But surely his brand new friend would protect—

Before he finished the thought, the man grabbed him and slapped tape across his mouth so Tony couldn't scream. He tried to fight and then felt a sharp prick in his arm. Although he wanted to do nothing but to prove how tough he was and fight Ernie off, to get back to the sanctuary of the school, his muscles instantly began to relax and he was unable to resist. He had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he couldn’t focus on where he was. What was Ernie doing? He was supposed to be his friend. He thought about screaming in hopes the Sisters could hear him—even though he was sure he’d get the whipping of his life—but suddenly he was dropped roughly to the ground. He forced his lids open to glimpse the faces of what he thought had to be two guardian angels.

Who he now knew to be Elizabeth Bennett and William Dempsey! The two people that had not only rescued him from God only knew what, they’d ensured he was safely back inside the orphanage. Before his head cleared enough to thank them, they were gone.

He awoke the next morning in his bed, his head pounding and his throat dry. He tried to tell the Sisters what happened but they refused to believe him. He even had proof–the needle mark. They scoffed, insisted it was probably a bee sting. Then they showed him a note he supposedly wrote, saying he was running away. He hadn't written any such note but they didn't believe that either. They accused him of staging the whole episode in a desperate bid for attention.

Their lack of trust stung. Yes, he was an admitted troublemaker, but he was no liar. Even at that young age, when children were to be loved and protected, he’d lost complete faith in them after that. He made good on the fake note and ran away that same day, never looking back.

Oh, certainly he was caught and shipped to another orphanage in another state, but by then something within him had changed. Living on the streets toughens you up pretty fast—no matter how old you are. He just wanted to belong. Tired of running and hungry, he behaved as best he could—he wasn’t about to run away and have to live on the streets again—and managed to squeak through his adolescence until he joined the Army as soon as he was old enough.

That had been exactly what he’d needed. Though Bootcamp had about killed him, it had also shaped him for the man he was to become.

After completing a four-year stint in the military, he graduated at the top of his class from the police academy and quickly climbed the ranks to make detective last year. When he first received his badge, he’d used his free time and police resources to try to locate the two people who had saved his life. He wanted to thank them, let them know it was because of them he’d dedicated his life to helping others. Yet, he’d run into one brick wall after another. Turned out the orphanage had closed six months after he ran away and Sister Rose passed away soon after. He couldn't recall the names of any of the other nuns. So, despite his frustration, he never discovered what had become of his two rescuers.

When he started digging, he’d unearthed information verifying eight other boys had disappeared from the orphanage before him and three after. Had the Sisters believed him that fateful night, the authorities might have saved those three boys from the same horrific fate that had been planned for him that night.

Before he’d been saved by two mysterious strangers.

Even after all these years, he shuddered at the thought.

He glanced at the picture in front of him with a deep pang of regret. Now he knew what happened to his rescuers…they clearly died trying to stop Ernie.

Tony pounded his fist on the table. “I owe my life to you.” He closed his eyes a moment, then raised the two pictures to look at them closely. “With every breath I have left within me, I vow to you I’ll find Ernie or whatever his name was, dead or alive, and make him pay.”

~*~

“Do you remember details of that night?” Will asked cautiously. “The night we died?”

Lizzy’s eyes widened. “We discovered who’d been kidnapping boys from the orphanage.”

Will nodded slowly. “One of the kids confided in me when we visited for our weekly tutoring session. He said eight boys had disappeared and he was afraid he’d be next."

A tear slipped down Lizzy’s cheek before she continued the story. "We tried talking to the Sisters but they were too naïve, insisted the boys were run-aways. Said they’d left notes, but we knew better. So we started investigating."

"It was personal to us since we’d grown up there. We knew all the hiding places. God showed us the perfect one, so we hid there and waited. And sure enough, we finally spotted the man grab a little boy.”

“Anthony,” Lizzy murmured.

Will nodded. “Thank God we were able to get him away from that monster before he could harm him.”

That they hoped Anthony had remained unharmed was left unsaid.

“After we took the poor child inside, we raced to your car and headed to the police station to report what had happened, but the man was waiting in ambush. He sped after us, and ran us off the road and into the lake.” Lizzy shuddered. “Oh, Will. I was so afraid that night. I couldn’t have gotten out of the car without your help.”

“For all the good it did us. He shot us as we tried to escape.”

They both stared out over the lake that looked so calm and peaceful now below a layer of ice, but had served as their watery graves. Will pulled Lizzy into his arms. “I love you, Lizzy, always.”

She buried her head against his chest. “I love you, Will, forever.”

After a moment, he asked, “Do you remember who it was that stole those boys…and then took our lives?”

She lifted her head and gazed into his brown eyes, her expression pained. “Ernest March. The mayor.”

 

 

 

 

~3~

 

 

Something flashing over Will’s shoulder caught Lizzy's attention. “Look at that clock on the bank. The date.”

Will twisted around, his muscles tensing. “How is that possible? That means…”

“We’ve been dead for twenty years,” Lizzy finished.

They stood transfixed, watching the garland decorated digital clock blink between the time, date and temperature.

"Why, after all this time, are we here now?” Will asked almost to himself.

The cold Lizzy felt had nothing to do with the plummeting temperatures. Slowly she shook her head. “I have no idea.”

Will suddenly grabbed her hand and towed her through the snow covered park to the street. “Look.” He indicated a newspaper dispenser, the latest edition visible through the glass display. “Governor Ernest March Announces Bid for Presidency.”

“He was never caught!” She turned to clutch Will's shirt. “Oh, Will, how many other boys do you think he harmed in all these years?”

Will's jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “I don’t know, but we have to do something. We have to make him pay for his crimes.”

"He targeted boys who had no family, no one to worry if they suddenly disappeared and never returned home."

"They have us," he said with marked determination.

“That’s why we’re here,” she said firmly. “To make sure he’s stopped once and for all. I don’t understand it, but we must have been in some kind of suspended state, unable to rest or find peace while he continued stealing and most likely abusing children.”

Will frowned, thinking. "If that’s the case, why did it take twenty years for us to return? That's a long time. So much could happen in that span of time.” Suddenly he snapped his fingers, the conclusion clear. “I’ve got it! Someone is trying to help us.”

Lizzy's head tilted to the side. “What? What do you mean? Who could know about us?”

“Remember that small law firm I interned with my junior year?” When Lizzy nodded in acknowledgement, he continued. “They sent me to the police station to research a cold case. I remember sitting in that damp, dark basement, thinking how sad it was that these people died while their killers remained alive, roaming free and clear.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “Ernest March was never caught, which means our murders were never solved. We're a cold case. Someone pulled our file.”

Hope crossed Lizzy’s face and then quickly vanished. “Who will ever believe us? We supposedly died years ago and Ernest March went from mayor to governor. If people didn’t approve of him, like him even, he would have never been elected or stayed in office for so long.”

Will grasped her hand. “We need to get to the police station and make sure someone believes us and puts that scumbag away for life.”

“What if the station has moved? It's been two decades and look how much in this town has changed.” She swiped a hand to encompass the surrounding area. "How will we find it?”

“I’ll ask this man if he can direct us there. Excuse me, sir.” The man ignored him and kept walking. Will frowned. “That was rude. He acted like he didn’t even hear me.”

“He didn’t,” Lizzy whispered.

Will’s gaze snapped to hers. “What are you talking about?”

“I tried speaking to someone before you arrived and she ignored me completely.”

His eyes widened as understanding dawned. “You mean…”

“We’re invisible,” she finished sadly.

 

 

 

 

~4~

 

 

“Let’s assume the police station is in the same building." Will glanced around, trying to gather his bearings. "If I remember correctly, it’s not far from here. There must be something we can do to convince someone, anyone, to believe our story.”

They started walking, neither speaking as they pondered the tough task in front of them and marveled at all the changes in the past twenty years.

Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead, a fierce wind rattled tree branches, knocking snow from the limbs as they approached a busy street and Will continued walking. Lizzy yanked her hand from his and stopped. “Will…a bus!”

She didn’t even have time to scream when the driver made no attempt to slow. She was about to cover her eyes when Will turned, waiting for her. The bus hit him…no…wait, it passed right through him.

Glumly, she stepped into the street, not even checking for traffic. “We are ghosts,” she whispered, slipping her hand back into his.

The sidewalks were packed with people, unaware they were in the presence of two specters walking among the living. Men and women carried bags full of toys and wrapped presents, smiles on their faces as they hurried home to their loved ones at this most blessed time of the year.

"It's Christmas Eve," Lizzy murmured, recalling the date on the bank clock.

Will squeezed her hand in comfort. “Christmas was always your favorite time of year.”

“I know. Even though I didn't have parents or grandparents, brothers or sisters to share it with, I had you. We always made it a festive, fun-filled day.”

Their first Christmas together when she was five, Will noticed how sad she was to be spending the holiday alone, so he snuck into the woods behind the orphanage and brought her back a small, sickly tree–the only one he could get without a shovel. It was the best present she’d ever received. They strung popcorn together and created homemade ornaments to decorate the little sapling. Lizzy had to keep it in her closet so the nuns wouldn't confiscate it. As they grew and eventually moved on to college, they kept up their traditions. They would sing carols and open presents, usually ones they made themselves, and laugh. So much laughter and joy. She’d spent almost her entire life with Will…as it now appeared she was doing in death. God was so good to keep them together.

She had saved every single card, poem and gift he’d ever given her–even needles from that first sapling. They were her treasures. With a sad jolt, she wondered what happened to the box of her most prized possessions. It had probably been tossed in the garbage, callously thrown away like yesterday's news. She glanced at her left hand and sighed in relief. She still wore the ring Will had slipped on her finger the day he’d asked her to marry him.

They approached Hepburn's Department Store, famous for decorating their huge picture window with a different, intricate scene each Christmas. People travelled from all across the state to glimpse their creations, each year seeming to outdo the one before.

In silent, mutual agreement, they stopped, transfixed. In front of them was a model of Bedford Springs, looking exactly as it had twenty years ago, before urban growth transformed the community. "Will, look—" Lizzy pointed to the model—“there’s a miniature reproduction of Mr. Fillamore's produce stand.” A tear slid down her face unheeded. All the years she and Will had been gone instantly slipped away. Twenty years seemed like just yesterday. The scene even sported a replica of Winston Lake. A train chugged along a set of tracks that used to run through the center of town, steam pouring from a smoke stack, a whistle tooting merrily. There were working railroad crossing lights and bars, stoplights and cross-walk signs. The old green water tower was represented, along with the movie theater, even St. Jerome Emiliani's orphanage where they’d met and fell in love. She and Will could have had such a wonderful life. They could have gotten married like she’d always planned. Would probably have children by now. But all that had been taken away—stolen—by a hateful man called Ernie. A man she and Will somehow had to stop.

"Lizzy."

At Will's urgent tone, her musings ended and she followed his gaze. Her mouth dropped open. The scene included tiny people milling about, some strolling down the street, some looking in windows or driving small cars. But the figurines Will pointed to—those of a man and woman sitting on the bench beside Winston Lake—looked exactly like them, down to the clothes they wore the day they died.

~*~

Neither Will nor Lizzy spoke after the spooky discovery in Hepburn's Department Store window. There had been no doubt they were the young couple on the bench. How could it be possible?

“There’s the police station,” Will announced after they walked a few blocks. A jolly man in a Santa suit stood by a red kettle, ringing a bell and offering up a "ho, ho, ho" to all who passed. Some people stopped to drop coins into the bucket, others simply ignored him, hurrying on their way. Lizzy had always put money in the container, even when she didn't have change to spare. It made her feel good. Fumbling into her pocket, she fingered a lone penny. She had no idea how it could be there, and it wasn't much, but she would make a wish when she dropped it into the bucket.

After all, miracles happened on Christmas, didn't they? That’s what the Sisters had always told them.

Saying a silent prayer that she and Will would be able to stop Ernest March before he could harm anyone again, she slipped the coin into the slot.

"No act of kindness, no matter how small is ever wasted," Santa remarked, repeating Aesop's famous line. "The merriest of Christmases to you, Elizabeth. Your wishes are about to come true.” She smiled fondly, hoping he was right, and followed Will up the concrete steps into the police station.

They passed through a revolving door that failed to revolve with their presence and stopped abruptly. A huge machine blocked entry into the station. "This wasn't here last time I visited," Will noted. They watched as a man emptied contents from his pockets and then stepped through the arched doorway.

"It's a metal detector like they have at airports. I remember seeing one of them on television once.”

"I wonder why they need one in the lobby of the police station." He pulled a face. “I wonder what other changes have happened in the world since we departed.”

Will tugged Lizzy's hand and guided her forward. "I guess this will be a real test of our mortality." They slipped right through, undetected. A German shepherd rested on the floor waiting to sniff suspicious packages. His head lifted and he scented the air with a whimper. Will ran his hand over the dog's fur and it resettled on the floor with a doggy sigh as they drifted away.

Lizzy jerked to a stop forcing Will to halt as well.

He glanced at her. "What is it, Lizzy?” His hands grasped her upper arms, his eyes raked her with concern. "You’re pale." It was a pretty funny thing to say to a ghost, but Lizzy couldn't find the humor in that statement at the moment.

"Will! The man outside dressed as Santa Claus. Remember when I dropped my penny inside his kettle? He could see me.”

Will’s brows scrunched into a frown as he looked at her. “Lizzy, what are you talking about? We’re ghosts. No one can see us.”

“He could. I don’t know how, but he could. He thanked me for putting a penny in the kettle. He knew me, Will. He knew my name."

Will's eyes widened and then narrowed in determination. "You’re right! Come on.” He tugged her back through the security booth. They bypassed the crowded revolving door, choosing to slip through the brick wall to save time.

Lizzy slowly rotated in a complete circle, her shoulders slumping in dejection. "He's gone. He was right there.” She pointed to an empty spot on the sidewalk.

Will wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her head. "I saw him, too, Lizzy. You weren't imagining anything. He called you Elizabeth.” They stayed that way for a long time, watching people pass by, heading home with their treasures. Bags full of gifts to make tomorrow the happiest of days.

Finally Will inclined his head toward the building and she nodded. He guided them back inside, past security to the stairwell that led to the basement. There were a few officers milling about, one moving boxes from a room marked records, another drinking a cup of coffee. No one so much as flinched as they whispered by.

They peeked into rooms as they navigated the hallway. Most of them were empty, which wasn’t surprising. It was Christmas Eve. People would be out doing last minute shopping or already be home with their loved ones. No one would want to be stuck at work this late in the day. They stuck their heads inside one room and spotted a man perched behind a desk, his dark head bent over a pile of papers.

Though she never had the opportunity to watch him grow into manhood, she would never forget that face.

“Will! Look,” Lizzie breathed, clasping a hand to her chest. “That man. It’s Anthony Preston…and he’s reading a file.”

Will stood stock still, almost not breathing. “Look at the box, Lizzy. It’s a closed case file.”

Lizzy’s countenance lit up with joy, yet tears streaked down her face. “I don’t even have to get closer to look at it. It’s our file, Will. He’s reading our file.”

~*~

Will couldn't believe they’d actually located little Anthony Preston, the boy they’d rescued the night they died, and that he now worked for the police department. He was even more astonished to discover Anthony was the one who pulled their file. He was trying to solve their murders. There was no way this was merely coincidence. God clearly had a hand in it.

Lizzy sat on a corner of the desk and dug through the box perched on Anthony's desk. She glanced up at Will. “If I can find my journal, I wrote down everything we discovered that night while you were driving.”

He peered inside the box. “Look at this stuff.” He indicated a mutilated notebook. “That once held notes from my Law Theory class. Everything in there is covered with lake sludge. It will take a miracle for anyone to still be able to read anything we wrote.”

“Here it is!” Triumphantly she lifted the leather-bound book that sported thickened yellow pages, an obvious indication of water-damage.

Tony's head whipped up and he stared directly at her. She froze.

“Drop the book, Lizzy,” Will ordered, urgency clouding his voice. “He can see it…it’s us he can’t see.”

Lizzy released the journal. It plopped inside.

Tony blinked and shook his head. Then he tugged the box closer and peered cautiously inside. Gingerly he removed her journal. He examined it from every angle. With a shrug, he flipped it open and began reading what he could of the faint, smeared print.

"Hey, Tony."

Will spun at the voice to find a woman perched in the doorway, wearing a festive red sweater with a picture of Rudolph on the front and neatly pressed black pants, her long chestnut hair secured in a ponytail that hung down her back. She looked beautiful and very nervous. She obviously couldn't see Lizzy sitting cross-legged on top of the desk or him standing sentinel by her side.

"Tony.” Lizzy tested out the name and nodded. "I like it. He looks like a Tony."

"What?" Tony barked, looking up from the journal. His voice softened. "Oh, hi, Macy. I didn't realize it was you. How are things in the crime lab?"

"Busy, as usual," Macy sighed, then perked up. “Can I grab you a cup of Joe?"

"Sure, I'd love one. Thanks."

Macy made no move to fetch the coffee. She took another step inside the room. "I didn't get a chance to tell you that what you did, you know, with Buddy Horton, well, I'm impressed. Very impressed."

"I beat the shit out of him," Tony reminded her ruefully.

Macy grinned widely. "I know. I would have used your service weapon to blown off his—"

Tony threw back his head and burst out laughing. Macy joined in, her cheeks staining a pretty shade of pink. Lizzy and Will's heads ping-ponged back and forth in fascination, from Tony to Macy and back.

Lizzy smacked Will with the back of her hand. "Look at her pulse fluttering like a hummingbird in her neck. She likes him."

"Look how wide his pupils are, trying to drink her all in. He likes her, too."

Macy worried her bottom lip and her hand swept out, almost conking Lizzy upside the head. Lizzy ducked. "Do you need some help going through those boxes? I'm off the clock."

"I appreciate the offer, but it's Christmas Eve, Macy. No one should be stuck here.” Tony's tone was soft. "Why don't you head on home?"

She shrugged a careless shoulder. "My folks are on a cruise and my brother is spending the holidays with his in-laws. It's just me, It's A Wonderful Life and a frozen turkey dinner."

Tony studied her for a moment and she glanced away, the color in her cheeks darkening. One corner of his mouth kicked up. "Then sure, I'd love some help."

Macy visibly relaxed and grabbed a chair from against the wall. Will dodged out of the way as she scooted it next to Tony.

"Actually, I'm glad for the help," Tony admitted. "I've been staring at these files so long, I swear one of them levitated a few minutes ago."

Macy laughed and Tony watched her. Her smile faded. "Don't stop," he murmured. "You have a beautiful smile."

She glanced at her hands in her lap. "Thanks. So do you," she added shyly.

"They’re so sweet," Lizzy purred. "Tony needs a good woman in his life."

"How do you know he doesn't have one already?"

Lizzy shrugged. "I just do. Besides, no ring.” She indicated the naked finger on Tony's left hand.

"Hers is bare, too," Will pointed out.

"Tell you what," Tony said. "We'll work on this for a little while and then grab dinner. No one should be alone on Christmas Eve."

"I'd like that." Macy’s face lit up with a smile. "So, what are you working on?” She peered at the battered journal.

Tony paused, clearly debating how much to reveal. “If I tell you this, you can’t repeat it to anyone. If the Captain got wind of my personal involvement, he wouldn’t let me pursue the case."

Macy’s eyebrows lifted but she nodded. “I promise. Spill.”

“When I was eight, my parents were killed and I had no other relatives. I was sent to live in an orphanage.”

“Oh, Tony.”

He shook his head fiercely. “Don’t pity me. I turned out fine. Besides, I wouldn’t be telling you this if it weren’t for the case.”

“Sorry,” she grumbled.

“You don’t need to be sorry. I just don’t want to be pitied. I’ve come a long way from that pathetic little boy. Anyway, a man approached me one day. He told me he was a lawyer and that he would try to locate relatives who could adopt me. I acted like it was no big deal but inside I was thrilled. I wanted out of that place. I hated the Sisters and everyone else at the orphanage. In hindsight, none of them did anything wrong. They just weren’t my family.” He shot her a look imploring her to understand.

“He came back the next night and said he found a great-uncle who wanted me.”

“So that’s how he did it,” Will muttered. “I wondered what he said to make the boys go with him.”

“Bastard,” Lizzy spat.

“The man told me we had to keep it from the nuns who ran the orphanage. I had no problem with that. Then he said we had to meet the uncle that night. I had no problem with that either…until he carted me outside and it was pitch black. After I lost my parents, being in the dark frightened me. He grabbed me, slapped tape over my mouth and jammed a needle in my arm.”

Macy gasped.

“I thought I was screwed.” One side of his mouth quirked ruefully. “I figured it was penance for the way I treated the Sisters.”

Macy completely ignored his joke, her serious attention focused solely on Tony. She didn’t even blink. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “What happened next?”

“I couldn’t keep my eyes open from whatever drug he shot me up with. The next thing I knew, I was thrown to the ground. I forced my eyes open again and stared into the faces of two very real angels standing over me.”

Macy hung on his every word, her eyes huge saucers.

"They saved me from the man, took me back inside and then disappeared. I didn't see them again. Until today, I never knew who they were or how to thank them for saving my life."

Will shared a sad smile with Lizzy.

“You mean you found them? After all this time?”

Tony nodded and peeled open the folder, withdrawing a picture. He tossed it on the desk in front of Macy.

“Oh, no.” Her hand moved from his arm to cover her mouth. She stared at the photo, a finger reaching out to trace the faces of Will and Lizzy twenty years ago. She looked up at Tony, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “What happened?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out. What we’ll find out if you’re sure you want to still help me.”

Will put his arm around Lizzy’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Tony will stop Ernest March,” Lizzy announced with complete faith.

“How did they die?” Macy again studied the picture.

“They were pulled from Winston Lake along with their car. The file says they actually made it out of the car, but were shot in the head. On the same night they saved my life. They didn’t stand a chance.”

“The man who tried to take you killed them,” Macy deduced correctly.

“I have no doubt it’s the same man.”

“How are you going to find him after all this time?”

Tony picked up the battered journal and shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“I slipped the notes I took that night between the cover,” Lizzy recalled, moving closer to work a corner free, trying desperately to not disturb the book and spook Tony again. “There.”

Macy stared at the book. “Tony, there are some pages sticking out of that journal.”

Tony turned and noticed the edge sticking out and his brows dipped. With two fingers, he gingerly plucked out two pages. “Although it will probably take a miracle for any of the pages to be legible. All the ink probably blurred together after being stuck in the water after they were murdered.”

“It’s legible,” Lizzy whispered with awe. “The cover must have preserved it from the water.”

 

Tony’s eyes grew dark and stormy, his mouth flattening into a harsh line as he read the notes detailing their discovery. His hands curled into fists. Shooting to his feet, he whipped his jacket from the back of the chair.

Macy sprung upright, too. “Tony, what is it?”

“I have to go, Macy. We’ll have to reschedule dinner.”

“No.”

Tony’s brows rounded in surprise. “No? Okay, if you don’t want to have dinner with me… but I thought—”

“No, you’re not going off on some vendetta without me. I’m coming, too.”

“This case just got bigger than both of us. From what I read, the ramifications are huge. Quite possibly a career-ender. Or life-ender,” he tacked on. “This man has killed before.”

“Then you need me,” Macy insisted. “You need backup.”

Tony crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Absolutely not.”

Macy mimicked his stance, her eyes narrowing. “Absolutely yes.”

Tony thumped a hand to his breast. “I’m the cop.”

“Who’s on suspension,” Macy reminded him. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Don’t make me tell Captain Purnell what you’re doing.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed to slits and then he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Macy caved, huffing in annoyance. “No I wouldn’t, but I’m coming with you."

"Macy, you’re a lab—"

"Don't say geek. Don't you dare say geek.” Her voice was low and lethal.

Tony held his palms up in surrender. "Relax. I was going to say rat."

Macy tapped her foot. "Well, now, that’s just so much better.” She pursed her lips. "You know what they call cops–relatives of the porcine family.” She jabbed a finger at him. "I would never call you that. And just so you know, they let all techs carry guns and visit dangerous crime scenes on CSI."

Tony barked out a laugh but quickly stifled it at the look on her face. "That’s make-believe, Hollywood, fantasy. This is real life."

Macy lifted her eyebrows and said nothing.

Tony let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m never going to win this argument with you, am I?”

“Get used to it,” Lizzy and Macy said at the same time.

Will grinned broadly. “I can vouch for that.”

Tony dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Fine. Get your coat and I’ll fill you in on the way there.”

Macy’s smile lit the room. She threw her arms around Tony and then as if just realizing what she’d done, quickly pulled away. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.” His gaze trained on her departing form as she hustled out of the room. “Tomorrow,” he added under his breath as he fingered his coat and shot out the door.

“He’s going to confront March,” Lizzy guessed.

Will grabbed her hand and chased after him. “And so are we.”

 

 

 

 

~5~

 

 

“Come-on, come-on,” Tony chanted, cranking the key. The engine sputtered and died again. Tony slammed his palm against the steering wheel. “Dammit.”

“Are you okay, Will?” Lizzy inquired.

“It’s pitch black under here, but I found the spark plugs. This baby won’t start.” On cue, Tony twisted the key again. Will worked his magic and Tony cursed, louder this time.

The passenger door flew open. “You bastard.”

Tony gritted his teeth. “Get out, Macy.”

She plopped in the seat, jerked the seatbelt over her shoulder and snapped it into the lock, ignoring him. She stared straight ahead. “You lied to me.”

“Look, I am not taking you with me and that’s final. I don’t want you hurt. Besides, this damn car won’t start.”

Macy reached over and turned the key. It purred to life like a kitten. “There’s just no end to your lies, is there?”

Tony stared at the ignition, dumbfounded. “I swear, it wouldn’t start.”

Macy rolled her eyes

Will eased into the back seat next to Lizzy with a grin.

“It doesn’t matter, because I’m going with you.” Macy pulled out a gun and pointed it at Tony.

“What the hell? Put that thing away.”

Her tone was sugary-sweet. “Just because I’m not a cop, doesn’t mean I can’t fire a gun. You of all people should know that…you've taken me to the firing range. You’ve seen my scores. I have a permit.”

“Macy, there’s a big difference in shooting a paper target thirty feet away and putting a bullet into a flesh and blood human being.”

“Unless you want me to test that theory, drive.”

His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap, Tony shifted the car to drive and floored the gas, flinging Will and Lizzy against the seat.

“Your temper doesn’t scare me,” Macy informed him as she tucked the gun in her purse.

“It should.”

Macy rolled her eyes again and Tony cursed under his breath. “You’re one stubborn woman.”

She ignored his comment. “Tell me what you discovered.”

“You know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation with you.”

She reached into his pocket and filched the note.

“Dammit, Macy—” The car swerved as Tony tried to snatch it back. A horn honked and a little old woman shoved her hand out the window, her middle finger waving at Tony. He would have returned the gesture had she not looked just like Betty White.

“Oh, my God,” Macy whispered. “The governor? It was Ernest March?”

"Yeah," Will confirmed grimly. “Potentially the next president of the United States.”

~*~

“Now you see how big this is,” Tony remarked. “That’s why I didn’t want you along with me. I can’t involve the Captain or anyone else. This really could end careers. I have to do this myself, but I can’t tip him off that I know he’s the one.”

“I had no idea,” Macy murmured. “I’m sorry I forced myself along and read the note.”

“Not to mention pointing a gun at me,” Tony reminded her.

“Yeah, that, too.” She sighed. “Since you can’t tell anyone where you’re going, whether you like it or not, I’m your insurance. I promise I’ll stay in the car and if you don’t come out in fifteen minutes, I’ll call for back-up.”

“Make it thirty and deal,” Tony said.

Tony turned into the long driveway that led to the governor’s house and braked at the small white booth.

"I need to see your invitation," the security guard announced as Tony lowered the window. Invitation? Hadn’t thought about that. Tony flashed his badge, anticipating all sorts of questions.

"Good enough." The guard smacked the car roof twice before pushing a button. The gate lifted and Tony motored forward.

"I wonder why we need an invitation," Tony mused aloud. March spent most of his time at the Capital, but he kept his Bedford Springs residence and spent most holidays here. As they neared the house, Tony gaped at all the vehicles. “Damn!”

“He and his wife must be having a Christmas Party,” Macy deduced.

“Well, that’s good—maybe. He wouldn’t risk shooting a cop with so many witnesses, would he?"

 

 

 

 

~6~

 

 

“I apologize for all the noise, but Mrs. March and I are celebrating my announcement to run for president,” Ernest March boasted as he led Tony to the richly-appointed den in his ostentatious mansion.

“And Christmas?”

March waved an impatient hand. “Yes, yes, and that.”

Tony smirked. This man’s arrogance knew no bounds. He clearly thought he was more important than Jesus Christ.

“Matilda is an exceptional hostess,” March praised, having no idea the direction of Tony’s thoughts. “She’ll make a perfect first lady.”

Gah. In Tony’s opinion, Matilda March wouldn’t make the perfect anything. She reminded Tony of a particularly nasty pit bull. She was reed thin with short white hair that stood in spikes, her face forever pinched in a disapproving scowl.

She looked down her nose at him when she answered his knock. He really didn’t think she was going to let him talk to her husband, but then Ernest approached to greet the new visitor, not realizing it was one of Bedford Springs finest at the door. Tony certainly didn't inform him of his suspension.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Detective Preston?”

“I’m working on a case.” Tony took a seat on the leather chair the mayor indicated.

“Can I get you a drink?” March padded to a bar tucked into a mahogany-paneled wall.

“Whatever you’re having.” Tony wanted to lure the man into a false sense of security. No, what he really wanted was to wrap his hands around the governor’s fat neck and squeeze.

Maybe he did have anger management issues.

But if what Elizabeth Bennett and Will Dempsey discovered was true, this was huge, bigger than any case he’d ever worked. The man the majority voted to serve the people as leader of the state was instead a predator, a child molester. A killer. Tony had to be careful and do this right. Strictly by the book. He couldn’t risk March getting off on a technicality.

His heart pounded but he forced himself to remain calm. This was the reason he’d become a cop–to find justice for the innocent, the victims. If not for Will and Lizzy, Tony would have been one of them. His existence reduced to a statistic.

“Scotch okay?”

“Sounds good,” Tony responded.

“How can I help you?” March asked over his shoulder as he removed two glasses from a cabinet and added ice from a bucket.

“I just have a few questions. I’m working on a cold case from twenty years ago.” Tony watched March closely. “A young couple shot and dumped in Winston Lake.”

March’s hand stalled halfway to a decanter, but he covered it with a nervous laugh. “I don’t see how I can help, but ask away.”

“Look how March’s hand is shaking,” Will pointed out to Lizzy.

The governor sloshed liquid over the side of a glass before setting down the bottle.

March wiped his hand on his pants. "I appear to be out of the good Scotch," he declared. "Let me go grab another bottle. I'll be right back."

Tony sighed in exasperation. March fled before he could tell him not to worry about the drink.

Will and Lizzy followed March down the hall where he ducked into a bathroom and poured contents from a bottle in the medicine cabinet into a crystal tumbler.

“That’s not Scotch he’s pouring.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “Poison.”

March grabbed another bottle from a nearby room and did add Scotch to the mixture, presumably to cover the taste, then hurried back to the study. “Here you go, Detective.”

He handed Tony the glass filled with cyanide but before Tony could accept it, Will knocked it from March’s hand.

“Oh, how clumsy of me,” March mumbled, his face revealing he was clearly vexed.

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I’m not thirsty, anyway.” Tony whipped out a notebook and pen. “Let’s just get down to business.”

Without tipping his hand, Tony detailed the facts of the case leaving out names. He watched March’s face closely for any signs of guilt. He had to give the man credit…after the initial shock, his face became a hard, unreadable mask.

March rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Let me think. Twenty years ago, right?” At Tony’s nod, he continued, “I would have been mayor back then.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, now that you’ve reminded me of the story, I think I do remember that. Sad, very sad.” He shook his head. “But I still don’t know why you’re here or why you need to speak with me.”

“I read somewhere that you used to volunteer at St. Jerome Emiliani’s Orphanage.”

March’s eyes widened for a moment before his expression slid smoothly into a politician's practiced self-satisfied grin. “I volunteer for a number of worthy causes, yes.”

“The victims were former residents and donated their services to the orphanage as well.”

“Did they? I didn’t realize that.”

March feigned surprise very well, Tony gave him that.

“What did you say their names were?”

He hadn’t revealed their identities yet. “Elizabeth Bennett and William Dempsey.”

March’s brows furrowed and he shook his head thoughtfully. “No, I don’t recall those names. I don’t believe I knew them. Probably weren’t at the orphanage at the same time. It was twenty years ago, after all.”

Knowing he couldn’t push, Tony flipped the notebook closed and stood. “That’s all my questions for now.”

“Sorry I wasn’t more help, Detective.” March started to rise.

Tony stilled him with a hand. “No need to walk me out, I know the way.” He took two steps and turned. “I may have a few more questions later.”

“You know where to find me,” March said congenially.

 

 

 

 

~7~

 

 

Macy Greene impatiently tapped her foot and checked her watch for the hundredth time. Tony had only been gone for ten minutes. He had another twenty before she took action.

Patience had never been one of her virtues.

She couldn't sit still another moment. Unbuckling her belt, she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She reached back in to grab her gun and slid it in her pocket. The decadent smell of a Christmas feast scented the air and festive music hummed lightly in the distance. Tony had to park at the very end of the driveway because of all the vehicles, but that was good. No one would notice her. Thunder rolled overhead, the indicator of a rare winter thunderstorm. Tugging her jacket higher to cover her ears, she padded along the fence spanning the compound, careful to avoid contact with the metal bars. Sinister-looking, razor-sharp wires wrapped around the top and signs every five feet warned of high voltage. Apparently the governor took his security seriously. Macy kept the house in sight in case Tony returned. She needed to burn off this nervous energy.

She couldn't believe how forward she’d acted with him. She had been in love with him for over a year, since she first started working in the crime lab, but he had yet to make a move. She’d recently spent the money her parents had sent her for Christmas on a makeover, hoping to entice him to notice her as more than a friend. If the look in his eye was any indication, it had worked. His asking her out for dinner later was her first glimmer of hope. She shivered.

Her Christmas wish was to spend not just dinner, but the rest of her life with Tony.

Macy's foot encountered something solid and she stumbled forward, barely managing to keep her balance. Twisting, she inspected the area. Her head tilted to the side. Something was down there. Bending closer, she ran her hand over the ground. It appeared to be some kind of handle.

Macy glanced around, making sure she was alone. Satisfied, she slid her fingers under the knob and lifted. A trap door opened with difficulty, the top camouflaged by the earth. Macy checked the area again–still alone–and peered inside. Steps. Leading to where? A storm shelter? Root cellar? The bowels of hell?

Her head jerked at a faint sound floating up the steps. Was her imagination working overtime or was that a whimper? Leaning closer she waited and yes…there it was again. Definitely a whimper. And definitely human.

Fumbling along the wall, her hand encountered a light switch. With one last glance at the house, she slipped into the opening and waited until the trap door closed before she engaged the light.

A strong musty smell assailed her nose as she gingerly navigated the steep stairs. The temperature rose ten degrees as she descended deeper into the ground. The sound drifted to her again, this time sounding like crying. Once she reached the landing, she encountered a firmly locked solid door. Macy jiggled the handle. The crying stopped abruptly.

"Hello?" she called out softly. No response. Louder she added, "My name is Macy and I'm with the Bedford Springs Police Department.” No need to admit she wasn't actually a cop, but worked in the forensics lab.

"Are you weawy with the police?" The voice was young and very scared.

"Yes, honey, I am."

"Hewp me."

 

 

 

 

~8~

 

 

"What's your name?" Macy asked the disembodied voice on the other side of the door.

"Benji."

"How old are you, Benji?"

"Five."

Anger surged through her as if she’d been punched in the gut. Five years old and locked in a dungeon. Benji would have nightmares for the rest of his life.

"I'm going to get you out," she stated firmly.

"Pwease hurry before the bad man comes back."

Macy's heart took another blow. She needed to find Tony. He could get Benji out. He could do anything.

"Listen, Benji, I'm going to go get—"

"Don't weave me, pwease don't weave." Benji started crying again and Macy's own eyes welled with tears.

Steeling her voice, she said firmly, "I'm not going to leave you, Benji.” She could do this. She could save this little boy. "How big is the room you’re in?"

A sniffle. "I dunno."

Macy lips twitched. "Do you have a light in there?"

"Just a nightwight. I can't see much. And it smews weawy bad."

"Okay, listen to me, Benji. I’m going to get you out but I need your help. Can you move to the very back wall, as far away from the door as you can?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"Because I'm going to shoot the lock off."

"Cool!"

Macy's smile was bigger now. Maybe Benji would be okay after all. With quick jerks, she whipped off her coat and crumpled it into a ball, hoping to silence the sound of the gunshot. The party was in full swing so she didn't think anyone would notice. Though she had yet to see any, Ernest March probably had security patrolling the area.

Using deep breathing techniques from yoga, she relaxed her muscles, positioned the gun inside the coat and aimed them at the lock.

Bang!

The door creaked open. It worked! Feeling inordinately proud of herself, Macy shoved the plank wider. "Benji?” She wasn't prepared for the blow of a five-year-old boy launching himself at her with full force. She staggered from the impact, his arms wrapping around her neck cutting off her air, his legs clenched so tightly around her waist she couldn't pull in a much needed breath.

"It's okay, Benji. You’re safe now. I've got you. No one will hurt you again."

Benji's deep, heart-wrenching sobs set Macy's own waterworks off. She cried with the little boy, stroking his downy-soft hair and murmuring words of comfort.

Benji's body racked with shivers so severe, Macy shook with him. Her stomach clenched when she realized all he wore was a pair of little-boy underwear.

Glancing around the dim room, she spotted a blanket on a small mattress in the corner. She was afraid to look any closer at the contents of the room for fear of what she would discover. She was a lab technician, had processed blood and sweat and every bodily fluid imaginable. But she couldn’t bear to know what Ernest March had done to this fragile boy. Easing her way to the bed, she snatched up the cover and wrapped it tightly around Benji. His choke-hold had loosened, but not much. She didn't plan on letting him go until she absolutely had to, until someone pried him from her arms.

First, she had to find Tony.

Spinning around, she carried Benji up the steps and killed the lights before inching the trap door open slowly to peek outside. The coast was clear. Shoving the flap open, she stepped into the stormy night.

~*~

Ernest March waited until the dangerous detective departed before sagging against the doorframe and exhaling deeply. He whipped out a silk handkerchief and dotted at his brow. That had been close. Too close. Preston knew something.

He’d have to make sure the nosy detective met with an unfortunate accident before he shared his findings with anyone else. Nothing was going to stop Ernest from becoming president. His approval rating was at an all-time high. The country was primed for his leadership. Some punk, two-bit cop wouldn’t ruin it for him. He had been planning for this, working toward one goal his whole life: President of the United States of America.

Before making a call that would silence Preston permanently, March padded to the wall and triggered a secret compartment. He drew out his most treasured possession with extreme care. The scrapbook was his talisman, his personal bible.

Flipping through the pages, he smiled fondly at the beautiful faces of the young men he had loved. And he had loved them, each and every one.

The first picture he encountered was Ronny, Ernest's first love. He had been twenty-two at the time, fresh out of college. Though he’d felt these impulses for as long as he remembered, he’d never acted on them. Until he’d met a seven-year-old orphan who reminded Ernest of a stray puppy. Ah, he had loved Ronny so much, until he became too whiny, too frail. They all became whiny and weak, and when they did, Ernest had no choice but to end their suffering.

Matilda had no idea what transpired right under her snooty nose. The dried-up old hag wouldn't notice anything unless it benefitted her directly. If she ever found his hidden sanctuary, she would faint in horror. Oh, she wouldn't turn him in or divorce him. Hell, she’d already picked out china patterns to replace the dishes in the White House. But she would make his life a living nightmare.

Thank God she hated sex as much as he hated her. A handful of times decades ago still made him shudder with repugnance. Matilda simply used Ernest as her ticket into the social echelon she thought she deserved. Ernest used Matilda as a cover for his true proclivities. Tender young boys.

No, Matilda must never find out. He couldn't hire security personnel to patrol the grounds for that same reason. The only time he felt safe was when he could schedule a quick trip home and leave Matilda at their house in the Capital. Then he spent most of his waking hours with his young lovers.

He thought of the tow-headed Benji, waiting patiently in the sanctum for Ernest to return, and his blood heated. He’d not had the chance to do anything with Benji. He would tonight, when the last guest left for home. He would give Benji a Christmas present he’d never forget.

But first, he had to take care of that meddlesome detective.

 

 

 

 

~9~

 

 

Tony navigated the hallway to the front door, feeling like he was dropping the ball by not arresting March right now. When he returned to his car, he was going to call his captain and fill him in. If there was any chance of obtaining a warrant, Tony had to take it. He couldn’t leave March on the loose.

He had just stepped outside when a warm breeze tickled his ear.

“Go back, Tony…you must go back inside,” Lizzy whispered urgently.

Tony brushed at his ear, as if feeling her breath. He turned around and grabbed the door before it clicked shut. Mrs. March wasn't around to look down her nose at him again, thank goodness. Puzzled at his sudden about-face but determined, he retraced his steps to the den.

“What are you doing?” March bellowed, hurrying from the room. “You were supposed to leave.” March tried to close the door.

With her hands on his back, Lizzy propelled Tony into the study, past a stunned March.

“I just have a few more questions.”

“We are done here,” March sputtered, moving to block Tony’s advance.

March spun around in horror as the secret compartment in the wall creaked open and the book tumbled out.

“What the hell is that?” Tony moved forward to better see the book.

Lizzy smiled broadly at Will, his hand still on the panel.

Tony’s gaze moved from March to the book.

A pistol suddenly appeared in March’s grip. “You’re not ruining my chance at the presidency.”

Tony held his arms out to the side to show he was unarmed. "What? You’re going to shoot me with two hundred guests less than fifty feet away?"

March pulled the trigger before Tony, Lizzy or Will could react.

Damn! Apparently the man was going to shoot him with two hundred guests less than fifty feet away.

Tony staggered, blood pouring from the wound in his chest. Stunned, he lifted a hand to his shoulder, close to his heart. March aimed again, but Will reacted this time, wrenching his arm to force the shot wild. That split-second hesitation was all Tony needed. He knocked the gun from March’s hand. March let out a primal scream and lunged but Lizzy stuck out a foot, tripping him. He thudded hard to the ground, his head bouncing off the wood floor. Tony pounced, muscling March’s wrists into cuffs. “Don’t move, you sick son-of-a-bitch,” he growled when March attempted to stand. With one foot on the man’s back, Tony hefted the book with his good arm and flipped through the pages, his mouth gaping in horror. Dozens and dozens of faces, all young, all male, stared back at him, names, dates and final resting places noted below.

Ernest March had stolen these boys, abused them and then killed them.

Dropping the book with disgust, his hand hovered between his weapon and his cell phone. God, he wanted to put a bullet into this man's brain. But that would be letting the animal off way too easy.

He removed his cell and called for backup and an ambulance. His next call was to Macy to fill her in. He punched in her number and heard the ring through the phone lines and the open doorway. Puzzled, he spun around.

"Tony, oh my God, you've been shot."

Macy clutched a small blanket-covered bundle to her torso. It was a little boy wrapped as tightly around her as the cover was on him.

"What—" was all he got out before an unholy wail cut him off.

“Benji,” March cried. “My sweet, darling Benji.”

Benji whimpered and struggled to climb higher on Macy.

“Benji, listen to me,” she asserted, “he can’t hurt you anymore. The bad man will never hurt you again.”

Benji quieted and looked into Macy’s eyes. “Neva?”

She shook her head. “Never again.”

March struggled on the floor, twisting and crying out for the boy. Matilda March appeared in the doorway, fists perched on rail thin hips. “I insist you explain to me why you are interrupting my very important dinner party.” She addressed Macy. “Get that sniveling brat out of my house.” Then she wrinkled her nose distastefully at Tony. “You bleed on my floors, you’re cleaning it up.” When she spotted her husband bound on the floor, she gasped. “Ernest?” Her eyes narrowed at Tony. “I demand you release my husband this very instant. Why, he’s the next president of the United States. I will have both your heads on a platter. And good grief, put that gun away.”

Rapidly losing strength, his vision swimming, Tony indicated the scrapbook. “I guess you never really knew Ernie.”

Matilda’s lips pursed at the nickname, looking as if she just sucked a lemon. She huffed around Tony and glanced at the book. Lifting a small pair of reading glasses from a chain around her neck, she perched them on her beak-like nose. “This? What is it?”

“Your husband’s twisted hobby.”

She flipped through a few pages and then shoved the book away with distaste. “And who is the boy?” She indicated Benji.

“His latest victim,” Macy told her.

Matilda paced the room, processing the information. “You’re telling me my husband has been abusing and killing children for years?”

It was all Tony could do to speak. His vision had narrowed to tiny pinpricks. “Just boys.”

She moved closer to Ernest. “We had it all,” she said calmly to her husband. Almost too calmly for someone whose entire world had just crumbled like a house of cards. “We would have been royalty. Our names would have been forever written in history alongside the Kennedys and Eisenhowers."

Not hardly, Tony wanted to say but his voice didn't seem to be working.

"But you couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you?" Matilda reached into a drawer and whipped out a pearl-handled revolver. Aiming at Ernest, she growled “Rot in hell,” and squeezed the trigger.

Macy spun Benji away and covered his head at the last second. Ernest’s eyes widened, shocked. A growing pool of blood spread from under his body. His chest rose one last time, then deflated permanently, his face forever frozen in a gruesome death mask.

Tony used what miniscule amount of strength he had left to wrench away the gun. Matilda didn’t fight him. Good thing because he would never live down being bested by a 98-pound senior citizen. Bad enough he hadn’t stopped her from murdering her husband.

A siren sounded and soon emergency personnel burst into the room. Tony reached for Macy’s hand and relaxed into the beckoning darkness.

 

 

 

 

~10~

 

 

A storm raged outside, thunder cracking and lightning streaking the sky as Lizzy and Will accompanied an unconscious Tony in the ambulance. Macy wanted to ride along but the medics needed all the room to work on Tony, and Benji refused to let go of her. They were following behind in a police car.

The paramedics tended to Tony’s bullet wound as the driver zipped the ambulance around the slick city streets with precision speed and accuracy.

“I should have anticipated March pulling a gun.”

Lizzy leaned her head on Will’s shoulder, her eyes never leaving the too-still form on the gurney. “You couldn’t have known. Neither of us could have.”

Will wasn’t letting himself off the hook so easily. “Still, I should have reacted sooner.”

The ambulance braked under the Emergency Room portico and two medics whipped the doors open. Tony’s stretcher was rolled out and the legs snapped in place to wheel him inside. The trailing police car screeched to a stop and Macy flew out, Benji still in her grip. She caught up with Tony, only to be barred from entering the ER.

A screaming Benji was pried from her grip so he could be examined. Caught between waiting for news on Tony or helping the traumatized boy, Macy was torn. A nurse informed her Tony was being prepped for surgery. With nothing she could do for him, she hurried after Benji.

Lizzy and Will hovered in the operating room, watching while the doctors dug the bullet out of Tony's chest. When they finished stitching him up and Tony was moved to recovery, they floated back to the waiting room to check on Macy.

They found her perched in a chair, looking worried and exhausted. Lizzy eased down beside her and placed a hand on her arm. “Tony is going to be okay, you have to believe that.” As if she felt the touch, Macy’s other hand covered her arm, directly over Lizzy’s and she sighed. “He needs you, and so does Benji," Lizzy said. "You need each other…family.”

“If she hadn’t discovered March’s hiding place, Benji would have never been found,” Will pointed out.

A woman from social services approached Macy and she jumped to her feet. “They’ve given Benji a sedative and he’s sleeping now. We’ve located his foster parents. They didn’t even report him missing. Figured they could keep on collecting his stipend while having one less mouth to feed.”

“I want to adopt him.”

Macy looked as stunned as the social worker at the words that leapt from her mouth. Then she smiled. Nothing had ever felt so right.

With the promise that she would look into the situation and do what she could to start the process if all the necessary paperwork was approved, the social worker left.

Will put a protective arm around Lizzy and she rested against him.

The room was packed with law enforcement personnel, hoping for an update on their fellow officer.

A loud commotion kicked up outside the Emergency Room doors as an ambulance transporting two critically injured people arrived. Paramedics and nurses rushed around their gurneys as they were wheeled inside, vital signs bantered back and forth while orders for crash carts were issued. Cries of “Flat-lined,” “She’s not breathing,” “He’s gone into cardiac arrest,” and “Start CPR,” rang out. Just another night in an always over-worked ER.

"Get them into ER, stat," a doctor ordered.

Lizzy glanced up at the voice and gasped. She tugged urgently on Will's arm. "Will, look, it's Santa, or the man who was dressed as Santa. He's a doctor."

As if he heard her, the doctor turned to them and smiled. With a wink and a jaunty salute, he disappeared behind the swinging emergency doors.

"Let's go talk to him." Lizzy jumped up but Will pulled her right back down. "Wait, there’s Tony's doctor. We need to find out about his condition first, then we can come back and talk to Santa."

Lizzy agreed. The doctor informed the group of policemen that Tony pulled through surgery, no major organs had been hit, and he would recover. Lizzy and Will used the celebration of the officers to slip away and locate his room. They approached the bed to find tubes in his arms and nose, a large white bandage covering most of his torso. Macy was already there, telling a groggy Tony all about Benji.

“I’m going to adopt him,” she announced, sounding more sure of her decision. “I know they’ll have to do a background check and home studies and all that, but it’s the right thing to do. That little boy needs me.” She hesitated and peered at Tony.

His eyes drifted shut and then opened again. “You’ll make a great mother. A great wife. Mine.”

“Is that a proposal?”

“Think so.” His words slurred.

Macy smiled and squeezed his hand. “The answer is yes, but we’ll talk about this more when you aren’t hopped up on morphine.”

He smiled, his eyes closed. “Said yes. Can’t back out now.”

“Never,” she promised. With one last smile she tiptoed out the door.

Will and Lizzy moved closer to the bed. “You can’t hear us or see us,” Will said, “but we want to thank you for solving our case and stopping March. You’ve given us justice. We’re even now.”

Tony’s lids fluttered, then opened.

“And thank you for believing our story, Anthony.” Lizzy leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The detective touched the spot, his brows dipping. Then he smiled.

“We did it, Lizzy,” Will announced, tugging her close. His voice sounded far away.

“Will?” His image started to fade. “No!” Lizzy cried, grasping his hand, but she was fading, too.

“I love you, Lizzy, always,”

“I love you, Will, forever.”

Then there was nothing but air.

 

 

 

 

~Epilogue~

 

 

"It's a Christmas miracle," the nurse pronounced.

The lawyer’s lids fluttered open and he blinked at the bright lights. Where was he? A constant buzzing of chatter surrounded him, as did several beeps and dings. It smelled like antiseptic.

He tried to rub his chest, but something in his arm stopped him. It felt like he had been flattened by an elephant, surely he had a broken rib or two, but he also felt gloriously, wondrously alive, better than he’d ever felt in his life.

Happiness. That was the feeling invading his body, overriding the pain. He was happy to be alive. Swiveling his head, he realized he was in the hospital. He encountered the smiling gaze of the doctor and wasn't completely surprised that he looked like the bell-ringing Santa Claus. It was Christmas Eve, or at least it had been before he ended up a patient in the Emergency Room. "Merry Christmas," he mouthed.

Then he spotted a small figure on a stretcher beside him. No, it couldn’t be…

The reporter’s eyes blinked open and she inhaled deeply with a smile, as if she were happy to be alive as well. She must have sensed him staring. In slow motion, she turned her head in his direction and gasped.

“Will!”

“Lizzy!”

Santa, aka the doctor, smiled at them both. “Merry Christmas, you two. It took awhile for it to happen, but I’m happy to have been a part of one of the greatest Christmas miracles ever.”

 

I hope you enjoyed A Christmas Miracle and the difficult topic tackled within its pages. If so, I hope you’ll take a moment to share your comments with other readers by posting a review. With hundreds of new books published every month, it’s difficult to stand out in the crowd, and every review helps.

 

Thank you for your help.

 

 

 

 

From the Highland Press Christmas Anthology

All I Want for Christmas Is You

 

http://www.highlandpress.org