I was in a fine pickle, stuck out in the woods, unable to move or even call out for help. Curtis Bromley hadn’t bothered to take my phone, but tucked in my pocket, it was useless to me. What a miscalculation that I’d left the critters at home with Jitty. Help wasn’t coming from that quarter. I hadn’t told Tinkie where I was going because I knew she’d be mad and try to blow off her work with the costumes. I’d hidden my car so well, no one would notice it until the morning. I’d managed to put myself in a bad situation without any hope of rescue.
When I thought it couldn’t get any worse, it started to snow. Big, fat, wet white flakes of Christmas magic that began to melt on my legs and face. Soon I would be nothing but a mound of slushy snow.
How many Christmas Eves had I wished and wished for snow? I’d seen a few winter wonderlands in New York City—and felt like I’d been brushed by a miracle. A white Christmas was the picture postcard of all holidays. I was about to get one, too. Only I was sitting on the damp ground, tied to a tree. My hands were already freezing. I’d read horror stories of people left out in the snow who had to have their fingers, toes, and noses removed due to frostbite. Crapola! That would not be a good look to sport on Christmas day.
As I started to shake violently from the cold, I tried to entertain myself with pleasant memories or foolishness. I began to make a list of foods I would never eat again if I got free of my situation. No more Cheetos or cheesecake no matter how bad the craving. No more sucking chocolate syrup out of the squeeze container in the refrigerator. I would toss out the frozen pumpkin custard muffins I’d been hoarding for an emergency. There were so many little things I’d always meant to get around to doing. Like maybe my taxes before the very last minute. At least I wouldn’t have to deal with those if I froze to death.
From out of nowhere came the beautiful music of “The Waltz of the Snowflakes.” It seemed to well up from the very ground I sat on. Of course I knew I was freezing to death. Auditory hallucination. Any minute, Jitty would appear and I’d know my end was imminent.
Just as I feared, a troupe of snowflakes from The Nutcracker danced onto the scene. I’d seen productions of the ballet, but I’d never imagined I’d see the waltz of the snowflakes while it was actually snowing. The magnificent dancers in their white tulle skirts frosted with silver glitter twirled and danced through the increasing snowfall. It was a beautiful vision to die with.
“Sarah Booth Delaney! Don’t you dare quit!”
My eyelids weighed a hundred pounds, but I forced them up to confront a lovely mocha snowflake. While all the others looked to have been poured from milk with uniform blond hair, this snowflake, my Jitty, reminded me of hot coffee with a dollop of cream and glossy black hair. The other snowflakes were serene and ethereal. My Jitty was red hot with anger.
“Wake up, Sarah Booth. Don’t make me do something you’ll regret.” She glared at me as the other dancers moved around us, leaping and whirling like an actual snowstorm.
“I’m tired, Jitty.”
“And cold, no doubt.”
“Not so cold.” I smiled. “No, I’m not cold any longer.”
“That is not a good sign,” Jitty said, more agitated than ever. “If you go to sleep, you won’t wake up in this world ever again.”
The siren song of paradise called to me. “Will I be with my parents?”
“What about Coleman?” Jitty asked. She was the very devil.
“Coleman?” If I died, Coleman would never forgive himself. Nor would my friends.
“What about Dahlia House?” Jitty asked. “You’re so busy regretting dietary choices, you never thought to regret that you didn’t make a will. You got no heirs, ’cept for me, and no one is going to believe I should inherit Dahlia House. I’ll be homeless and that will be your fault, too.”
Damn. Jitty was going to blame me for everything. Any minute now I’d be responsible for world hunger and Twitter.
“Cut me some slack. I’m tied to a tree. I can’t be responsible if I freeze to death. It’s not like I sat down and quit.” Amazingly I could talk clearly around the duct tape that clamped my mouth shut.
“What are you doing to free yourself?”
“What can I do? I’m not magic. I don’t have a fairy godmother to call on. I don’t have a grandmother or a mother. Or even Aunt Loulane.”
“Sarah Booth!” My mother’s voice came to me and she walked through the dancers to come to my side. She wore a favorite golden brown sweater exactly the shade of her hair, and her red lips were in a straight, thin line. “Get up right this instant.”
“I’m tied to a tree.” Did the dead have some serious issue with seeing the obvious?
“And what are you doing to remedy that?” My mother knelt down so that I could more easily see her face. Snowflakes clung to her long curls. Her gray-green eyes stared into mine, infusing my body with a kind of heat that started from my solar plexus.
“Where’s Daddy?” I tried to look behind her, but the world was luminous. I couldn’t see what was in the glow.
“I’m here, Sarah Booth.” And he was. Right at my mother’s shoulder. He put a hand on her and I realized they were both dressed for a party. She was wearing a beautiful green cocktail dress with the bodice trimmed in glittering lights. Battery operated—never. Mama had tapped into some angelic power source. My dad looked handsome in a tux with a dusting of snowflakes on his shoulders and in his hair. All around me the ground had turned white. For the first time in—ever—the weatherman had been right about snow. It was really coming down now. More than two inches had accumulated. Too bad I hadn’t pranced into the woods after the snowfall. At least then I would have left tracks. Now the ground stretched white, pure, and untouched.
“Sarah Booth!” My father cupped my face in his hand. “Wake up! Now!”
I shook myself awake and drank in the sight of them in their party finery. I had a party to go to tomorrow. After celebrating with Coleman tonight. “I love that dress, Mom. Where are you guys going?”
“There’s a gathering in the Great Beyond we need to attend. And you have a Christmas pageant, which is already going strong. Mrs. Hedgepeth is not exactly who I would have cast as Mary, but she does quite a bit of tithing.”
“You mean those parts were for sale?” I was outrageously outraged. “How is that right?”
“Much in life isn’t fair. Like the fact you’re tied to a tree for the first Mississippi Delta snowfall of your adult life. But it’s almost over. Sarah Booth, hang on. Just for a little while longer. You can do it.”
I sighed softly. “No, I don’t think I can.” Maybe I didn’t want to. If I could be with them …
“It doesn’t work that way,” Daddy said. “You can’t quit and expect to reap the rewards of hard effort. I taught you better.”
He was always the one who dictated the more difficult path. The easy path was not for a Delaney. “I just want to sleep.”
“You can sleep in the grave.” Jitty was back. “Now perk up and tell your Mama and Daddy how much you love them. They can’t stay much longer. There are rules in the Great Beyond, as you well know.”
The glow behind my parents had become fiercer, and all of the dancing snowflakes settled into a tableau. “Sarah Booth, you have to fight.”
It was my mother’s voice, but it was also Jitty.
“Free yourself.”
I wanted to complain and point out that if it was so easy, I would have been freed a long time ago. But I tugged at my bonds again and rubbed against the bark of the tree. The wet snow had given the rope a little bit of stretch, and I frantically began to tug.
“That’s it.” My parents approved of my actions. “You can do it.”
“Mama, Daddy, did you think I was stupid to go to New York and try to be an actress?” It was a question I needed an answer to.
“Stupid, never.” My mom touched the top of my head and it felt like the brush of an angel’s wing.
“We think it was very brave, Sarah Booth. You went looking for happiness, and you were willing to take risks. You didn’t find what you sought in New York, but at least you looked.”
“Is Coleman what I seek?” If only I had their reassurance, it would allow me to leap past all of my doubts and insecurities.
“You know the answer in your heart. Never turn your back on a miracle. That’s all we can tell you.”
They started to fade, and the illumination went with them, along with the snowflake dancers and Jitty. I was alone in the woods, and I’d been there for a long time. But I was awake and fighting now. Fighting for my life and my dream. I felt the rope that tied my hands slip a little. I dug down into the snow and wet my hands and the rope again, using the wet slickness to my advantage. Real concern compelled me to act quickly. Curtis Bromley wasn’t a killer. He hadn’t intended to leave me tied to a tree in the snow. Heck, he’d never anticipated the snow. No one could have, not really. He said he’d come back, and I believed that was his intention. Something unexpected had happened, and that didn’t bode well for Eve Falcon or her baby.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I knew it was Cece calling with the drop instructions, and I couldn’t answer as long as my hands were tied. But I could try. Using the heel of my boot, I kicked across my body at the pocket of my jacket where my cell phone was. If I could just turn it on. If I could somehow manage to answer the call before it stopped. With my last reserve, I wrenched my hip, knee, and ankle and slammed my heel into my pocket. “Help!” I said weakly.
“Sarah Booth?” Cece’s voice was muffled and far away, distorted by the pocket of my coat.
“Cece, I’m tied to a tree close to Bullwinkle’s in Fortis Landing. I know where Eve is, I think. Get Coleman and hurry. Things are way, way out of control.”
“I have to make the drop.”
“Don’t go alone, Cece. Don’t. It’s too dangerous. Come and get me. You can’t go alone.” I had so much to tell her. “I know who’s behind all of this. It’s Dara Peterson and her husband. Her husband is Mitch, Eve’s twin brother. There’s something wrong with Mitch’s and Dara’s baby. It may be genetic. Eve may be in real danger.” I remembered the ob-gyn’s question when I first asked about Dara. Is the baby still alive? “Whatever is wrong, they need Eve’s baby to fix it. It’s so much worse than we thought.”
I’d rushed to get the information out so Cece could be prepared. “Cece? Did you hear me?”
There was a garbled response and then I heard “… on the way.”
I clung to those words as I collapsed against the tree. Was she on her way to me or to the drop? Cece was in a place without any good options.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I freed myself of the rope. The hope of being rescued had given me the determination to save myself. That and the snow. My arms were tired and strained but I had no time to waste. I pushed up on my feet and staggered back toward the road and my car, all the while calling Cece back.
When she answered, I wanted to weep with joy. “Where are you?”
“I’m going to the drop, Sarah Booth. He gave me half an hour to get there and I didn’t have time to re-direct and stop by for you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine. I got free. I’ll join you. Where is the drop? They changed the location, didn’t they?”
Her hesitation told me everything.
“Please, Cece. You need someone there to have your back. You heard what I said about Dara and Mitch Peterson. Eve and her child may be in real danger. This is all connected to Carla and Will’s illegitimate children.”
“I’ve been giving that a lot of thought and so much makes sense now. Carla’s ruthless and relentless cruelty, her lack of joy, her anger that burned away even the tiniest pleasure for Will or Eve or even for herself. She punished everyone around her every minute of every day.”
“Did you find anything about Eve’s brother?” I hadn’t had a chance. I’d been, literally, tied up. “Where does he live? What does he do? What’s wrong with his baby?”
“I only have a minute, Sarah Booth. I’ll tell you what I know about Eve’s brother. You say his name is Mitch, well he was taken to the state orphanage, just like we supposed. I tracked down an employee of the orphanage who remembered a male infant that was brought to the state institution, but before his records were transferred, someone came to claim him. Somehow the paperwork with the infant was lost, and no one asked any questions anyway. The only thing she remembered was that the couple who came for him seemed to be nice.”
“And?”
“She said they were from Mississippi and talked about growing up on the river and what a good life he’d have.”
“Oh, my.” Now I fully understood the role of Curtis and Matilda. “It was the Bromleys who adopted him?”
“I don’t think so,” Cece said. “Dara is the Bromley’s daughter. And she’s Mitch’s wife. Mitch is their son-in-law.”
“What do they intend to do with Eve?”
“I don’t know. Not yet.”
“I don’t think the Bromleys would harm her.” I had to believe that. Parents desperate to save their child or grandchild might do many things, but I couldn’t see Curtis and Matilda harming a pregnant woman. “There’s something else going on. Something dangerous. It’s more than just wanting money. I can’t put my finger on it, Cece, but this is directed at you and Eve. This smacks of something personal. This is about hurting you.”
“Why?” Cece sounded anguished. “Who could hate me so much?”
I knew the answer, but I couldn’t tell her without proof. “Tell me where you’re making the drop. I think they may have set a trap for you.”
“It’s not far from where you are. If you go past the road to the boat landing and take the next right, I’m supposed to be one mile down that road by an abandoned boat on a trailer. There’s a loop of the river that cuts back that way to make a big lake. I’m already there.”
“I’ll be there.” I hung up and called Coleman’s cell. My watch told me he was likely standing at the manger with his gift of myrrh or frankincense, but I didn’t care. I left a voice message. “Coleman, meet me on old Gunter road. One mile down it. Cece is making the drop for Eve and the baby at ten o’clock. I think whoever has Eve intends to hurt her and Cece. I think it’s Cece’s aunt, Carla Falcon. She hates Cece and Eve and possibly her husband. I haven’t figured out all the details, but I think I’ve hit on the truth. I know this isn’t your jurisdiction, but please, please come.”
I didn’t have time to wait for him. I hobbled back through the woods until the feeling returned to my extremities. Then I trudged to my car, crippled by the cold and being tied up but determined. When I got in it, I didn’t drive to the money drop. Instead I drove to the Bromleys’ cabin. They weren’t home, which is exactly what I suspected. But I went to the woodshed in the back. Mariam had bluffed us good, and my cursory inspection of the shed was shameful. The exterior was a mess, but once I made my way around it, I saw that the interior had been carefully renovated. A gas fire burned brightly. There was heat and power—it was an underground gas line.
When I went inside I found all the necessities for a pregnant woman, including some equipment I’d never seen. But there were no indications that Eve—if this was indeed where Eve had been staying—had been restrained or held there against her will. But I absolutely believed she’d been there. A quick check of the space showed the prescription for prenatal vitamins in Dara Peterson’s name, books on parenting, and also a book on blood clotting disorders and organ transplanting.
What? The darkest, most awful thought hit me with the force of a train. Were they planning on harvesting Eve and/or her baby’s organs? That couldn’t be possible—except it could. And the specific amount of money demanded for the ransom was in the right range to buy a kidney or liver or heart on the black market.
I thought back to my encounters with Carla and Will. She was pinched up like an old corpse, but I hadn’t detected bad color or anything that might indicate a medical condition that would require an organ. Will had looked unhealthy—and unhappy. And Eve was his blood. My god, was that at the root of this whole thing? If Cece didn’t come through with the money then Carla and Will would harvest an organ from Eve or the baby?
And then an even more dire possibility came to me. Cece was an organ donor. It was listed on her driver’s license. Maybe this whole thing was just an opportunity to get her into a place where they could shoot her enough to make her brain dead but keep her alive long enough to be a donor.
I dialed Coleman’s phone again. “Answer! You have to hurry. This is dangerous. They might shoot Cece and I know she’s an organ donor. Coleman, please stop everything and come!”
He still didn’t answer so as I stumbled through the woods I called Cece, who also didn’t answer, and then Tinkie, who picked up. “Sarah Booth, you never showed up at the pageant. Coleman was looking for you. He’s not happy.”
“This is bad, Tinkie. Call Cece. Keep calling until she answers. Stop her from making the drop if you can. Stop her with any means you have.”
“I thought you were going to be with Cece.” Tinkie’s voice was tight with fear. “Where are you? Where is she?”
I gave her directions to the drop point, and luckily, she was already driving in that direction to find me and was almost there. When I hadn’t answered her calls, she’d left the pageant and started toward the original drop point. “Take a gun, Tinkie. I think this has to do with someone needing an organ, and they intend to take it by force if they have to.”
“Holy Christmas,” Tinkie said. “Call Coleman right now.”
“I’ve already left messages. Call Oscar. We may need back up and Oscar is a good shot. If you can get him to answer, tell him to get Coleman to check his messages and hurry.”
“They’re all in the middle of the Christmas pageant. I slipped out as soon as it started.”
“I don’t care if he’s negotiating for his soul with St. Peter. We need him. Tell him to bring a gun.”
“I’ll call Harold, too. Might as well get all the wise men there.”
“Be careful. See if you can Google Earth the area and make sure there are no other exit routes, especially via the river. This is something we’ve overlooked. The Bromleys know the waterways like the back of their hand. There was that creek that cut up by Dara Peterson’s house, and it was big enough for a small skiff. We’ve been on Eve’s trail the whole time, and we were pretty close. I believe she was in that old shed behind the Bromley’s cabin. I don’t know what Eve’s role is in this. She may be unwittingly assisting them and it could cost her her life if they intend to harvest her organs.” I knew I sounded crazy. This was like something in a thriller or a medical horror novel. This kind of thing didn’t happen to people I knew, yet it had. And at Christmas! With a pregnant woman! In the snow!
I finally made it to my car and when I got inside, I put the heat on full blast and tore out toward the drop location. I wasn’t far. I wanted to beat Tinkie there so we could join up and go in together. More than anything, I wanted Coleman to check his phone and get there fast.
As I tore through the night I wished Sweetie Pie and Pluto were with me, but another part of me was glad they wouldn’t be in danger. I worried that Cece would trust Eve too much. I had no clue what role Eve had played in all of this—victim or participant. If Cece viewed her as an innocent and took action on that belief, she might leave herself open to injury. So many things were up in the air—and I was driving into what could be an ambush or worse.
I called Doc Sawyer and at last got to speak with someone. When I told him where I was and what I believed was happening, he didn’t bother hiding his worry. “I’ll head out that way.”
“Get Coleman,” I begged him. “Please. Don’t come out without Coleman or one of the deputies.”
“You have my word. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can find out about bleeding disorders and pregnancies. I’ll give Dr. Milford Warren, that obstetrician, a call. He was Dara Peterson’s ob-gyn and he may speak with me about what’s going on medically. I need to be prepared.”
“Thank you, Doc.” Before I finished, I’d have half of Zinnia out in the woods hunting for Eve and her baby.
The icy white crystals continued to fall from the sky, and I worried that soon the roads would be slick and dangerous. This was Christmas Eve, a time for celebrating family and the birth of the baby Jesus, not out in the cold driving over slick roads into deadly situations. The need for speed only made it more treacherous. I took a breath and eased off the gas pedal. One of the old sayings Aunt Loulane had been so fond of—Arrive Alive—came back to me. If I wrecked, I’d be useless to Cece.
At last I came to the turnoff that led to the money drop. I continued past it and pulled into a byway that led into a field. I went in deep enough to hide my car, then walked back to the road. I hoped I was ahead of Tinkie, but I didn’t know. When I called, her phone went to voice mail, which did not make me feel better.
It was only a mile to the drop, and I started walking, picking my way down the road in the dark. I had gloves that I’d found in the trunk while I was looking for Tinkie’s gun, hoping she might have left it there on our last case. No gun, but I found an old blanket I kept there for pet emergencies. The good news was that tire tracks gave me a great idea where to walk. If the snow kept falling, the tracks would be covered up, but right now, they were my lifeline in the cold night.
My aunt Loulane had once told me something that I’d reflected on many times through my life. When I’d been scared or upset about something I faced and I wanted my parents to be there for me, Aunt Loulane had pulled me aside and told me, “You’re a Delaney, Sarah Booth. You’ve had the advantage of being greatly loved. Your parents will always be on your side no matter what, but only you can face this challenge.”
I thought of that wisdom now as I trudged into danger I couldn’t see. Aunt Loulane had also told me another bit of wisdom that I clung to. “Remember that there is no limit on miracles. They happen every day, and especially at Christmas.” She’d been a true believer in the season.
Tonight, I needed a miracle to keep my friends safe. Holding tight to that hope, I pushed on through the snow.