The Christmas Rescue (4 page)

Rafe tightened his fingers around her hand. “I know. You mentioned that the other night. You said he came over because of the memorial. Did he come over here often?”

“Rarely. Maybe more so in the beginning,” she corrected herself. “In those first few weeks after Jeremy's
death, but not lately. Frankly, I was surprised to see him.”

Seeing Bill Schroeder had dredged up memories better off forgotten. The arguments she and Jeremy had over the long hours he worked in the charter fishing business. She'd been thrilled when he'd finally agreed to sell out his half of the business to Bill. She'd been looking forward to more family time.

She rubbed her aching temple. Why was she suddenly remembering the rough points in their marriage? Jeremy had been a good husband and father. She'd never worried about him straying. She'd planned to spend the rest of her life with him.

But Jeremy was gone. All she had left of her marriage was this house, her memories and the memorial that Bill Schroeder had recently put up in honor of Jeremy.

“You knew, didn't you? That's why you went back to talk to the police.”

“I suspected, but I couldn't say anything until we knew for sure.”

Kayla's shoulders slumped. It didn't matter if Rafe knew before or not. She was doubly glad she hadn't gone down to the body to take a closer look.

“So tell me, how much do you charge to rent one of your rooms?” Rafe asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Startled, she glanced at him. Why was he asking? Because he planned to stay? As much as she wanted to laugh off his offer, she couldn't. Especially now that she knew Bill Schroeder was dead. “Just so happens I'm running a half-price Christmas special,” she weakly joked.

Rafe didn't so much as smile. “I'm serious, Kayla. I'd like to stay for a few days. Just in case this intruder
tries again. Put me in the same room he tried to break into, if possible.”

She wished she didn't need Rafe's help, but she couldn't turn down his offer. Brianna's safety had to be first and foremost. After all, wasn't that the main reason she'd called him? She'd known he'd take charge.

Keep them safe.

“If you're sure,” she said, meeting his gaze. She was thankful Ellen had agreed to stay with them for a while, too, so that she could take Rafe up on his offer. Ellen had mentioned needing to go and visit her sister, who'd fallen and broken her hip, but she wasn't planning to leave until closer to Christmas.

“I'm sure.” He smiled, and suddenly she remembered all too clearly those moments when he caught her close in his embrace.

She swallowed hard and glanced away. She could only hope that allowing Rafe to stay wasn't a huge mistake on a personal level.

For Brianna's sake. Or her own.

 

Rafe left Kayla's house, after making her promise to set the security alarm, so he could run back home to pick up what he needed. Leaving her alone, even knowing Ellen was there with her, wasn't easy. He couldn't help hurrying, unwilling to give Kayla time to change her mind. He'd been shocked at how easily she'd agreed with his plan to stay.

Which only indicated just how scared she'd really been.

He'd returned home to get some clothes and his laptop computer. Once again, he swung by the lakefront, but there was still no sign of Charlie.

He called Luke to tell him about Schroeder's surprise
visit to Kayla days before his disappearance. “I'm going to try to convince Kayla to let me go through her husband's belongings. I just can't help but think it's odd that Schroeder suddenly put together a memorial for her husband two years after his death.”

“I'll give you until Monday,” Luke reluctantly agreed. “But if you don't have anything by then, I'm pulling you back here. We need to figure out who killed our key suspect. Obviously, someone else must be taking over duty of transporting our crooks out of the country.”

“That's fine.” Rafe was willing to take what he could get.

When he returned to the bed-and-breakfast, Kayla seemed nervous, as if having him as a guest felt awkward. He used work as an excuse to retreat to his room, where he began an Internet search on Greg Landrum. Thankfully, Kayla had a wireless router for Internet access for her guests.

She invited him to join them for dinner and he warily agreed, trying to come up with some way to avoid giving Brianna the wrong idea.

But when he went down to the kitchen, he found Kayla and Ellen were alone. “Where's Brianna?” he asked.

“She was invited over to her friend's house for a sleep over,” Kayla admitted. “I thought it might be best, just in case this guy decides to come back tonight.”

Rafe hesitated, abruptly doubting the wisdom of his plan. “Maybe you should both leave, too. You could stay at Ellen's place. I plan to keep the security system off so I can catch this guy in the act.” And what he really hoped was to have a few minutes alone with the guy to find out what in the world he was searching for.

“Don't worry about us,” Ellen said in a feisty tone. “We'll be fine, right, Kayla?”

Kayla nodded. “We'll keep our doors locked, don't worry. I'm sure I won't be able to sleep much, but I'm staying.”

Rafe couldn't think of an argument that would encourage the women to leave, so he fell silent. Kayla served a big pan of lasagna for dinner and made-from-scratch garlic bread. He took a bite and the tangy sauce melted in his mouth. He'd never tasted anything so good.

“You're an excellent cook, Kayla.”

“Thanks.” She flushed at his praise and then glanced guiltily at her mother-in-law. “Ellen taught me a lot. And it's nice to have friends to cook for, rather than strangers.” The subtle loneliness underlying her tone wasn't lost on him. He knew only too well how difficult it was to spend evenings alone.

“Speaking of strangers, I haven't found much on your guest, Greg Landrum,” he said, quickly changing the subject to a safer topic. “You told me the address on his driver's license was from Chicago, right?”

She nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“I can't seem to find him anywhere, that's all.” He stood to help her clear away the dishes, but Ellen shooed him away, taking over the task herself. “I'm going to keep looking. Everyone leaves some sort of electronic trail in today's world.”

“Go on then, we can clean up here,” she said. “I have some sewing that needs to get finished tonight, anyway.”

“I thought you gave up doing alterations?” Ellen asked over her shoulder.

“No, why would I? Helps pay the bills in the gap between guests.”

He stared at her for a moment, hating the thought of Kayla struggling to make ends meet. Doing alterations couldn't possibly pay much. She'd mentioned her bed-and-breakfast business was slow, but he hadn't realized just how serious she'd been.

Was she in danger of losing her business? He hoped not.

“Good night, then. Don't forget to lock your doors. And keep your cell phones close at hand.” He was glad Kayla's private living space was tucked in the back of the house, far from the guest rooms.

He wished there was something he could do to minimize the danger.

“We will. Good night, Rafe.”

He spent several hours working on his laptop, still not coming up with much on Greg Landrum, although he did find that the guy owned a computer software business in a small suburb outside Chicago.

The information was somewhat reassuring. Greg Landrum did exist, but without a picture, he couldn't be sure that he'd found the right guy. He wanted proof that the man who'd rented a room from Kayla was really Greg Landrum.

When his eyes blurred from the strain of reading his computer, he stretched out on the bed, lightly dozing. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow.

A soft thud woke him. He levered upward, wide awake. Someone had landed on the wraparound balcony outside. Each of Kayla's guest rooms had access to the balcony, but he'd figured the intruder would come to the same door he'd pried open before. And he'd guessed right.

Sliding from the bed, he slipped soundlessly over to
the door, pressing himself against the wall. He hoped and prayed the guy would come in.

God answered his prayers. Slowly, the patio door eased open. There was no shrill alarm, as he'd purposefully kept the security system off. Rafe held his breath, trying to peer through the darkness.

A figure dressed in black stepped into the room. Rafe waited another beat for the intruder to come in farther so he could grab him. But the figure instantly spun away and Rafe suddenly understood why.

The intruder was wearing night vision goggles and saw that Rafe was in the room.

No! He couldn't let him get away! Rafe followed after him, barreling through the doorway and across the deck.

Rafe took the same path as the intruder. He leaped up onto the edge of the deck railing and then grabbed the low-hanging tree branch. The bark was rough against his palms as he swung to the ground. He ran after the suspect dodging through the trees. The way the branches slapped him in the face had him wishing for the benefit of night-vision goggles.

With only a sliver of the moon for light to guide him, he ignored the stinging pain as he tore through the darkness. Rafe couldn't see the intruder but he could hear him as they both wove a zigzag path through the woods. He thought he was only a few feet behind the guy but suddenly, he heard a rumble of a car engine.

No! Rafe burst through a line of trees at the end of Kayla's property just moments too late. Bright red taillights were disappearing down the highway.

He'd lost him.

Bending over at the waist, he rested his hands on his
knees and took a moment to catch his breath. So close. He'd been so close.

But then he stood, his expression grim. One thing was for certain, the average burglar didn't wear night-vision goggles to break into a house.

And he'd left Kayla and Ellen alone.

He turned and jogged back through the woods, retracing his steps to the bed-and-breakfast. The guy had to be looking for something. But what? Something Kayla had or something someone else had planted? Someone like Schroeder, who'd been there just ten days ago?

Rafe quickened his pace, suddenly anxious to get back.

Whatever the intruder was looking for, he and Kayla needed to find it.

F
ootsteps on the deck had woken Kayla from her light doze. She jumped out of bed and quickly pulled on her robe. She took a moment to peek in on Ellen, who was sleeping, before hurrying out to the great room. Through the large picture window, she saw Rafe disappear into the woods.

Had someone tried to break in? Rafe was obviously chasing someone. The intruder? Fear gripped her by the throat as she stood, uncertain as to what she should do. Call the police? Or just set the security system and wait for Rafe to return?

And what if Rafe didn't return?

The last thought spurred her into action. She grabbed her phone and quickly dialed 911. Thank heavens she'd let Brianna stay at a friend's house for the night.

After notifying the police, she paced the length of the great room, feeling helpless and somewhat vulnerable. It was late, four o'clock in the morning, almost the exact same time frame as the last time the burglar had tried to break in. A coincidence? Or was the intruder the same man? She wrapped her arms across her chest, shivering in the cold.

Rafe burst into the clearing just seconds before sirens split the air.

She ran over to open the door for him. “What happened?”

“I lost him.”

She caught a glimpse of his face in the porch light. “You're bleeding!”

“I'm fine.” He swiped his arm across his forehead. The blood smeared over his brow. “Scratched by tree branches, that's all.”

She couldn't be too disappointed that Rafe had lost the intruder. Not when Rafe had made it back safe and sound. As the sirens grew louder, she confessed, “I wasn't sure what you wanted, but I did call the police.”

He shrugged and nodded. “It's fine. We should report the attempted break-in, although I don't think it's going to help. This isn't a simple burglary attempt.”

“It's not?”

“No.” Rafe glanced outside and she turned to follow his gaze, noting that the sheriff's deputy was already pulling up to the house. “I'll explain more later.”

She went over to greet the deputy, a different one than the guy who'd responded to the break-in two nights ago. She tried to smile. “Good morning, Deputy.”

The sheriff's deputy did not return her smile. He looked a little annoyed, as if he had better things to do than to respond to her calls. “You reported another break-in attempt?”

“Yes, I did.” Kayla glanced at Rafe for help.

Rafe stepped forward, introducing himself and using his coast guard ranking. “I'm staying up in one of the guest rooms, and saw a man trying to break in. I took
off after him, but I lost him. There was a car on the road waiting for him. I didn't get the license plate number.”

“You took off after him?” The deputy's scowl deepened. “You realize he could have been armed and we could right now be searching the woods for your body, don't you? You're a little outside your jurisdiction. Next time, leave the police work to the experts.”

Kayla frowned, about to jump to Rafe's defense, but he put a hand on her arm, squeezing it in warning to keep silent.

“You're right, sir,” he said solemnly. “I wasn't thinking. Next time, I'll call you first.”

The deputy glared at Rafe, as if sensing he was being humored but then he turned toward the staircase. “All right. Show me which room you were staying in.”

Kayla remained downstairs as Rafe led the deputy up to the scene of the break-in. Anxious for something to do, she headed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

The sheriff's deputy didn't stay long. After he left, she handed Rafe a warm moist towel for his cuts. “I guess you were right. There isn't much they can do to help, is there?”

Rafe took the towel and plastered it over his face, wiping off the blood. “No, I'm afraid not. Kayla, the guy who tried to break in tonight wasn't your average burglar. He wore night-vision goggles and had a flashlight strapped to his belt. He came here to find something specific.”

She gapped at him. “Like what?”

“I'm not sure. But I have to tell you, I believe these break-ins are related to Schroeder's death.”

“I don't understand,” she whispered, taking the bloodstained towel from Rafe's hands. “Why would burglar attempts be related to Bill's death?”

Rafe blew out a breath and glanced toward the kitchen. “Is that coffee I smell? Because I could sure use a cup.”

“Yes, of course.” Kayla turned and led the way into the kitchen, pausing long enough to toss the stained dish towel into the laundry room, before heading over to the coffeemaker.

When the carafe was full, she poured two large, steaming mugs and carried them to the oak picnic table she used for family gatherings.

Rafe took a seat across from her, wrapping his fingers around the mug. She noticed his hands were scratched, too, although not as badly as his face. “I can't explain everything, Kayla, but I will tell you what I can.”

She lifted her coffee mug, eyeing him over the rim. “Okay. I can accept that.”

Rafe took a bracing sip of his coffee. “We've been watching Bill Schroeder for the past few months. He disappeared about a week ago, and we feared something bad had happened to him. Which is why I wasn't too surprised when he turned up dead.”

She stared at him, her own coffee forgotten. “Why was the coast guard watching Bill?”

Rafe's mouth thinned. “Because Bill Schroeder happens to be a key suspect in our investigation.”

“Suspect?” She paled. “In what kind of investigation?”

He seemed to pause, as if deciding how much to tell her. “Criminals are being smuggled out of the area, specifically from Chicago, Milwaukee and Detroit, up into Canada. Somewhere along the way, they're also being provided new identities.” He took a deep breath and met her gaze head on. “We have reason to believe
Schroeder's charter fishing business was really a front for this underground criminal transportation service.”

 

Rafe braced himself, expecting her to be outraged, but Kayla only stared at him without saying a word. But then the coffee mug began to slip from her fingers, spilling hot liquid over her slender, pale hands. She caught the mug before it fell, but she didn't utter a sound, as if she didn't notice the burning. He jumped up and grabbed a dish towel for her hands.

“How long?” she asked in a whisper. “How long has the charter fishing business been a front for criminal activity?”

The red splotches covering the silky skin of her slender hands worried him. “Come here, we need to run your hands under cold water.” He practically dragged her over to the sink, thrusting her hands beneath the cold stream. “We don't know how long. We've been watching Schroeder for the past four months.”

She tolerated the cold water for several long minutes before finally pulling away. “Four months? So Jeremy couldn't have been involved. He's been dead for two years.”

He wanted to agree, if only to give her some peace of mind, but he couldn't. Because he didn't know for sure that her husband had been innocent. Or if his death had really been the result of an accident. They'd found Jeremy's boat adrift in the middle of the lake after the storm, and within two days, Jeremy's body had washed up along the shore. Jeremy had drowned. No one really knew for sure what had happened. He took a dry towel out and wrapped it gently around her hands. “We don't know,” he repeated.

A spark of anger flashed in her brilliant green eyes. “I
know, Rafe. Jeremy would never be involved in anything illegal. Never.”

“I'm sure you're right, Kayla, although it is possible Jeremy didn't know what was going on, either. But we'll never know now, anyway.” He looked at her hands, glad to see the redness was fading. “The important thing at this point is to figure out who's breaking into your house and why.”

Her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was bearing down on them. He longed to pull her close, to reassure her that everything would be fine. But he didn't dare cross the tentative friendship they'd built.

“You're right,” she murmured. “I wish I knew what they were looking for.”

“I'd like your permission to look around,” he said slowly, gazing down at her bowed head. “I'd like to go through Jeremy's things.”

Her head snapped up. “Why? Jeremy was not involved in this!”

He took a step back, raising his hand to calm her down. “Please, Kayla, I'm not saying he was involved. But he might have inadvertently stumbled upon the truth. All I'm asking is for you to allow me to poke around.”

“No.” Kayla's stark refusal caught him off guard. “I'm sorry, Rafe, but I refuse to have Jeremy's good name and reputation tainted by association. If you want to prove Bill Schroeder's guilt, fine. But don't ruin Jeremy's name in order to do it.”

He could only gape at her as she spun on her heel and left, shutting the door leading to her room with an irrefutable click.

 

Kayla couldn't sleep. There was no point to even try. She curled up in her reading chair, wrapped in one of
her homemade quilts, trying to grapple with what Rafe had told her.

Bill Schroeder had used his charter fishing boats to smuggle criminals out of the country. And even more frightening was the realization that Bill had likely been murdered.

Jeremy hadn't been involved. No matter what nefarious crimes Bill Schroeder had gotten himself into, she refused to believe her husband had anything remotely to do with it. But she couldn't help but wonder if Rafe might be right. Was it possible Jeremy had stumbled upon something in those last few weeks before his death? Was someone trying to get inside her house because they want to find something Jeremy had?

She frowned because that theory didn't make sense. Why would they wait all this time? Jeremy had been gone for two years. Why bother breaking in now?

Because Bill Schroeder had been here recently? Maybe. She couldn't imagine there was any other reason. It wasn't like her bed-and-breakfast was high-profile.

Suddenly she straightened in her chair, her heart pounding. What about that interview she'd done for the newspaper? The photograph of her and Jeremy together in front of the charter fishing boat had been clearly visible in the snapshot they'd used for the article. Could someone had seen that picture and assumed there were others? Could they be looking for more photographs?

She put a hand over her racing heart. She needed to stop letting her imagination run away with her. Rafe's theories could be wrong. The break-ins might have nothing to do with Schroeder's death.

Although as much as she wanted to believe that, she really couldn't.

An hour later, she ventured back into the kitchen,
beginning to prepare for breakfast. Rafe was a paying guest and he deserved the same treatment as all her other patrons, which meant she needed to bake a batch of her infamous raspberry pastries. She'd wanted to get them finished before Brianna returned from her sleepover.

Brianna. Her fingers stilled in the mound of dough.

Grimly, she realized she had no choice but to let Rafe go through Jeremy's things, whether she liked it or not. She and Brianna wouldn't be safe, not until they knew what the intruder was looking for.

She attacked the dough with a vengeance. So she'd let Rafe go through Jeremy's things, and anything else he wanted to go through as well.

But not without her. She'd help. That way, she'd know if Rafe found anything that would even remotely incriminate Jeremy.

She deserved at least that much, didn't she?

 

Rafe's phone woke him from a sound sleep. “Yeah?” he muttered.

“DeSilva?” He wasn't thrilled to hear his partner Evan's voice on the line. “You need to get down to the point, pronto. Charlie Turkow has returned.”

“Oh yeah?” Rafe stifled a yawn and forced himself awake. “And how would you know? I thought Luke told you to keep an eye on Karl Yancy?”

“There was nothing happening there so I headed over to see if Turkow returned. Do you want me to interview him for you?” Evan's voice was eager.

“No, I'll do it.” Rafe tried to mask his irritation. Evan was young and too cocky for his own good. The guy needed to learn how to follow orders.

It was times like this that he missed his former partner, Ben Morrison. Ben deserved to retire, after serving
in the coast guard for thirty years, but Rafe still missed him. Rafe hadn't been thrilled to be saddled with the young recruit. Evan wanted lots of action and didn't much care for the tedious parts of the job. “Get back over to keep an eye on Yancy, if he moves and you're not there to tail him, Sanders will not be happy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm going.” Evan hung up and Rafe let out a sigh as he snapped his phone shut.

He quickly dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen, his stomach rumbling loud enough to wake the dead. The few hours of sleep he'd caught had been better than nothing, but another cup of Kayla's coffee would certainly help clear the remaining cobwebs from his brain.

Ellen and Brianna were seated at the large oak picnic table in the kitchen when he entered the room. He sniffed the air appreciatively. “Something smells wonderful,” he said by way of greeting.

“Good morning, Rafe. You're in for a treat, Kayla made her raspberry pastries,” Ellen informed him. “The raspberries are from her garden. She freezes them to use throughout the year.”

“Hi, Mr. Rafe,” Brianna chimed in.

“Hello,
mi nina,
” he said, ruffling her hair as he walked past.

“Have a seat,” Kayla said, and he was surprised when she flashed him a smile. Had she already forgiven him that easily? He could only hope.

“Thank you,” he murmured. When she put two pastries on a plate for him, along with a steaming bowl of oatmeal, he was impressed with her cooking abilities all over again. He bent his head and silently thanked God for the food before taking a healthy bite of the raspberry pastry. “Delicious.”