Christmas on My Mind (18 page)

“Maybe.” Ben walked back outside, closing the door behind him. Something wasn't right. Had the 911 call been a joke, a mistake or something more sinister? “What the hell . . .” he wondered out loud.

The answer slammed him like a lightning bolt.

Chapter Seventeen

A
s Ben rushed outside, Jess composed herself, walked back to Clara at the ticket table and pulled up an extra chair. “So much for the Texas two-step,” she said, forcing a smile. “I was just catching on. Does this sort of thing happen often?”

Ben's mother laid a gentle hand on her arm. “I'm afraid it does, dear. Charging off to help people is part of Ben's job—something you'll have to get used to if you stay with him.”

If you stay with him
.

Had Clara meant those words the way they'd sounded? Stunned into momentary silence, Jess felt the color warm her cheeks.

“I may be speaking out of turn,” Clara continued, “but I've seen how much Ben cares for you. It's as if, for the first time since his divorce, he's come to life again.” She gave a nervous little laugh. “I just want you to know that, if things work out between the two of you, it would make me very happy.”

Jess was caught off-guard but then found her voice. “Thank you. You can't imagine how much that means.” She hesitated, still struggling for the right words. “You've probably guessed that I feel the same way about him. Ben's the most wonderful man I've ever known. But there are so many complications. . .”

“Dear, there will always be complications,” Clara said. “If you love each other, you'll find ways to work them out.”

Jess lowered her gaze. Her hand crept up to finger the gold locket at her throat. For years she'd dreamed of being part of a real family, surrounded by warmth and love and acceptance. Now that the dream was almost close enough to touch, she found herself gripped by fear. Ben had never said he loved her, but before being called away, he'd come close. And now his gracious, respected mother had given the relationship her seal of approval. Did she know who Jess really was? Had Ben told her? Or would she be shocked to learn the truth?

Tonight, happiness was like a bubble, beautiful and shining but so frail that it could be shattered by a breath.

Glancing up, she could see Ethan making his way toward them. He'd spent most of the night playing games with his friends. Now it was getting late, and he'd had a long day.

“Hi, Jess.” He stifled a yawn. “Have you seen my dad? He said he'd take me home when I got tired of playing.”

“Your dad's off chasing some bad guys,” Clara said. “I'm getting tired too. But I guess we'll have to wait till he gets back.”

“I can drive you both home,” Jess offered. “It'll only take a few minutes.”

“That would be lovely,” Clara said. “But you can't just go and leave the tickets and money here on the table.”

“No problem,” Jess said. “Maybelle is here somewhere. I'm sure she'll be glad to watch the table while I take you home. Hang on while I look for her.”

Jess rose, scanning the gym for Maybelle in her dark, matronly gown. But Maybelle was nowhere in sight. What she saw instead was a tall, burly stranger pushing straight through the crowd toward her.

For an instant her heart dropped. But the stranger wasn't Gil. This was a big-bellied man, dark-haired, with a mustache that skimmed his upper lip. He was wearing what appeared to be a state trooper's khaki uniform, complete with a holstered gun and a badge on the front pocket. But he wasn't local, and he hadn't come through the ticket line. Jess had never seen him before in her life.

However, he seemed to know who she was. The man had zeroed in on her like a missile on a target. She froze in place as he strode closer, one hand resting lightly on the butt of his pistol. Fear crawled up her throat. Had something happened? Was he here to warn her about Gil?

He stopped in front of her, looming so close that it made her skin crawl. With her eyes at the level of his chest, she could see his badge—a number and the insignia of the Missouri State Police. Jess willed herself to stay calm and stand her ground.

“Are you Jessica Ramsey?” His voice was loud and penetrating. His breath reeked of beer and garlic pizza. Sweat rings glued his shirt to his torso.

“What is it you want?” Jess demanded, aware that a hush had fallen over the dance floor. People were turning, listening.

“Jessica Ramsey,” he boomed, “you're wanted in St. Louis for fraud and perjury. Turn around and don't cause any trouble. You're under arrest.”

Unclipping a set of steel cuffs from his hand-tooled leather belt, he jerked Jess's arms behind her back and snapped the cuffs around her wrists. “You have the right to remain silent . . .” he began.

“Now, hold on a minute, officer!” Clara had shot to her feet. “You can't come in here and take someone without a warrant. My son is the sheriff. I demand that you wait until he gets here before you arrest this woman.”

He shoved her out of the way. “Shut up and sit down, Grandma, before somebody gets hurt.”

Yanking Jess's arms, he propelled her toward the nearest door. A startled hush had fallen over the crowd. Even the band had stopped playing.

Numb with shock and terror, Jess stumbled ahead of him. Back in St. Louis, she'd been absolved of any wrongdoing. Had Gil lied to the police to get her in trouble? And what about the people here who'd heard the charges—the people whose trust she'd tried so hard to earn? What were they thinking? Even if she got out of this mess, would they ever trust her again?

Ben knew the truth. Why did this have to happen when he wasn't here to help her?

Suddenly everything fell into place. There was no robbery. Ben had been lured away by a fake emergency so this could happen. And this crude, unkempt excuse for a police officer was no lawman. She wasn't being arrested. She was being kidnapped.

The crowd parted as he shoved her across the dance floor toward the front door. Even now that she understood the danger, Jess didn't dare to struggle or call for help. The man had a gun, and the gym was filled with innocent families. She couldn't risk any of them coming to harm.

They burst outside. Wind whipped Jess's skirt and tore at her carefully pinned hair. Her captor shoved her down the front steps, yanking her up just before she would have fallen. “I know you're not a real cop,” she said as he dragged her toward a rusting Chevy sedan. “Let me go now and I'll give you a chance to escape. Otherwise you'll do time for aggravated kidnapping.”

“Shut yer trap, lady,” he snarled. “I might not be a real cop, but I got a real gun.”

As they reached the Chevy, she started to struggle in earnest, trying to pull away from him. But with her hands cuffed behind her back, there was little she could do. He opened the car's rear door, pushed her head down and shoved her into the dark interior that smelled of sweat, cigarette smoke and stale tacos.

She caught herself on her knees. Even before her eyes adjusted to the dark, she knew she wasn't alone.

“Hi, baby.” Gil's hand reached out and cupped her face, squeezing her cheeks until they hurt. “Hey, you're lookin' good.”

She wrenched herself away from him. “You're crazy to come here!” she hissed. “Let me go and get out of here while you still can!”

His laugh was a humorless cackle, his face leaner and harder than she remembered. “You mean you aren't glad to see us? I thought that little stunt we pulled to get you out here was pretty clever. Ollie made a great cop, didn't he? Too bad that gun didn't have any bullets in it. He could've put the fear of God into those country rubes.”

So the gun was empty. If she'd known that before Gil's friend got her in the car, she would've screamed and fought for all she was worth. But it might not have done any good—especially if the people who'd witnessed her “arrest” believed she was really a criminal.

Ollie had climbed into the driver's seat. The big man was visibly nervous, anxious to get away. With her wrists cuffed and two strong men in the car, Jess realized that her only chance was to try to stall them until Ben could get back here.

“Can't you at least take these cuffs off?” she pleaded. “They're hurting my wrists.”

“Maybe later, baby.” Gil slung an arm around her shoulder. “But not till we hit the highway. We got a long way to go, and we want to keep you around awhile.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, feeling sick inside.

“We're thinking Florida, maybe the Bahamas or the Caymans from there. Keep us happy and we might let you tag along. Otherwise—” He chuckled, letting the implication hang.

“Shut up, Gil!” Ollie, who was trying to start the car, was losing his temper. He cranked the starter again, then again. Jess prayed silently. If Ben was on his way back here, every second of delay could make a difference.

“Maybe it's the carburetor,” Jess suggested, hoping he'd have to get out and raise the hood.

“Shut up, bitch!” Ollie gave the starter one last, furious crank, and the engine roared to life. “Let's get the hell out of here!”

He slammed the gears into reverse and floored the gas pedal. As the car shot backward, there was a sudden explosion of popping sounds. The Chevy lurched, shuddered and sagged toward the right, grinding along the asphalt as it came to a halt. Looking in the rearview mirror, Ollie swore.

“What the hell just happened?” Gil demanded.

“You're never gonna believe this,” Ollie groaned. “Dolly Parton just shot out two of our tires!”

Jess twisted far enough to look out the side window. Standing a dozen yards from the car, in all her burgundy satin, platinum-curled, stiletto-heeled magnificence, was her mother, gripping a pistol in her lace-gloved hand.

What happened next was almost as amazing. People came pouring out of the gym and into the parking lot. They raced to their vehicles, started them up and drove, headlights bright and horns blaring, to surround the beat-up Chevy, cutting off all escape. Even if Ollie had been able to fire his gun, the lights would have blinded his aim.

“Now what?” Gil had slid down in the backseat, his head below the window.

“I have a suggestion,” Jess said. “Unlock these cuffs and let me out of the car. No promises, but with luck I might be able to talk these good folks out of stringing you up.”

She was just climbing out of the car when the shrill of an approaching police siren rose above the clamor. Lights flashing, the sheriff's SUV rocketed into the parking lot and screeched to a stop outside the circle of cars and trucks.

Tears sprang to Jess's eyes. Not only had these goodhearted people seen through the fake arrest—they'd trusted in her innocence and cared enough to rush to her rescue.

Within minutes the crisis was over. Ollie and Gil had been arrested, handcuffed and herded into the back of the SUV. The vehicles surrounding the Chevy were backing away, and Ben had Jess in his arms.

For a long moment they just held each other, both of them shaking. Then Ben turned to Francine, who was standing nearby, a broad grin on her face.

“What were you doing with that pistol, Francine?” he scolded her in mock seriousness. “You know guns aren't allowed at the Christmas ball.”

She gave him a naughty wink. “Why, Sheriff, I hid it where no
gentleman
would think to look. Something told me it might come in handy.”

“Hell, I didn't even know you owned a gun.”

“That's because I don't have a permit.” She laughed. “You wouldn't throw your future mother-in-law in jail for that, would you, now?”

Francine handed Ben the pistol and sashayed off toward the steps, where Hank waited for her. At the last moment, she turned back toward Jess.

“About that bet you wouldn't make with me, honey. Something tells me you would've lost.”

“What bet was that?” Ben asked as Francine disappeared through the double doors of the gym.

“I'll tell you later. Right now, you need to get your prisoners to jail. You'll know where to find me.”

As Jess stood on tiptoe to kiss him, a lacy white flake drifted down to melt on her cheek. Another flake fell, then more. It was snowing!

They were going to have a white Christmas!

 

 

 

Snow lay soft on the ground, glittering diamond white in the light of the risen moon. The sky was a glory of stars, the wind no more than a gentle whisper. It was the perfect ending to what had been a perfect Christmas.

In the Marsden house, Jess and Ben snuggled on the sofa, bathed in the light of the tree they'd decorated weeks ago. Clara and Ethan had gone to bed. Francine was off celebrating the holiday with Hank. At last the house was quiet.

Jess rested her head on Ben's shoulder. “Thank you for today,” she said. “I'd forgotten what a real Christmas could be like.”

He brushed a kiss along her hairline. “For me, it's a real Christmas because you're here.”

“And because Ethan won't be packing to go to Boston.” Her eyes rested on the shiny blue bicycle that stood against the wall. Ethan wouldn't be taking his bike outside until the snow melted. But when the walks and streets were clear, he would still be here in Branding Iron, racing around with his friends. That, as the boy had said, was the Christmas present he'd wanted most.

Ben's arm tightened around Jess's shoulders. “I have a question,” he said. “What was that bet Francine mentioned, the one you refused to make? You said you'd tell me later.”

“I did, and I'm still not ready.”

“Why not?”

“Because I still don't know which of us would have won.”

“Then I guess I'll just have to settle it myself.” He shifted, reached under the edge of the couch and came up with a very small velvet box. “This is for you if you'll have it,” he said, and raised the lid.