Christmas Hideout

Matt didn’t like hearing of a stalker. Didn’t like it one bit. Stalkers were often all talk and no action, but this guy, if she could be believed, sounded like the deadly type, and she was right to fear for her life.

But could she be believed? His first instinct was to trust her. She seemed too upset to be making this up. Didn’t matter. He was a sworn officer of the law, and he couldn’t just take her word for it. “Do you have any identification?”

She shook her head and bit her full bottom lip. It was then that he allowed himself to take a good look at her. She had big icy-blue eyes still wide with fear. High cheeks. Wavy blond hair pulled back into a bun, but strands had fallen free and lay softly against her creamy skin. In a word, beautiful, and something about her got to him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before he communicated his attraction, he forced his gaze from her face and it landed on the child all snuggled up to her mother. She had blond curls and an angelic face that people must fawn over.

“Are you arresting me?” Nicole met his gaze and locked on.

Her vulnerability pulled at him, triggering something deep inside. She broke into the cabin, had a story to tell and he what? He simply believed her story because she was pretty?

Right. He could just hear his sheriff father lecturing him about this kind of behavior. Matt had a job to do here. To figure out if she was telling the truth. But he clearly didn’t need to keep his weapon out.

He holstered it. “Do you know your car’s license plate number?”

“Yes! Yes! Perfect. You can check that out, can’t you?” She flashed a quick smile—her way of saying thanks, he supposed—and rattled off the numbers. “It’s a Honda Accord. White. 1996.”

“Registered in Texas?”

She nodded.

“And what’s your date of birth?” he asked, now easily sliding into his deputy role.

She quickly provided the information, and he didn’t even have to calculate her age. They were born the same year, making her thirty-two.

He inserted the earbud for his radio in his ear. In his mic, he repeated the information she’d provided and requested a DMV lookup, along with information from the associated driver’s license and details of the restraining order. If he was in his car, he could handle all of this himself, including seeing her photo on her driver’s license, but he wouldn’t leave her here and go back to his car.

While he waited for dispatch to retrieve the information, he turned his attention back to Nicole. “Tell me about the warning you received tonight.”

She took a deep breath and shifted to face him. “He left a big knife—a foot long and like the ones I know he uses for hunting. He stabbed it into a picture of me on my countertop made of butcher block. No written message. Just that horrible, horrible terrifying visual message while Emilie was sleeping in the next room. I panicked. Packed our bags, grabbed Emilie and fled.” She flashed her gaze filled with shock and disbelief up to his.

Whatever had happened had affected her deeply. Despite his desire to remain impartial, his protective instinct rose up. He tried to tamp it down. It was awful early in their conversation to believe she needed protection of any sort, but even a hint of a woman in physical danger riled him to no end, and he couldn’t just push it away.

“Did you call the police?” he asked.

She shook her head and lifted her chin in a defiant tilt. “What good would it do? I called so many times in the past, and they didn’t help. His name is Grady Harmon. He’s a police officer, and by the time his fellow cops show up, he’s long gone, and they don’t believe me.”

Say what? The guy was a law enforcement officer? That put a different spin on things.

Matt didn’t automatically assume all cops were good people. They weren’t, just like anyone in any other profession, but whether or not he was good, officers initially took the side of one of their brothers until facts proved otherwise. Might not be the right response, but they needed to depend on their fellow officers having their backs. Sometimes they took it too far, though, and protected their own when they didn’t deserve it.

She sighed. “You’d think they’d realize I had to have proof of his actions to get the restraining order, but they don’t seem to take that into account.”

“I’m not saying you don’t have proof, but I do know that judges these days will most always side with the victim. Officers know this and can be skeptical.”

“You, too, I see.” Her eyes darkened to the shade of a new pair of Wranglers, and she glared at him.

Even with her tense expression, she touched something inside him, and he wanted to help her. “I’m not saying they’re right or wrong. I’m just saying the burden of proof for a restraining order is lighter than most legal proceedings.”

“He really has been stalking me.” She raised her shoulders into a hard line. “I don’t lie. It goes against my Christian beliefs.”

She was a Christian. Of course, anyone could claim to be a believer. And believers lied at times, too. Matt knew that from his job. People lied to officers all the time. People he saw in church on Sunday.

Sure, he wanted to take her word at face value—wanted to believe her, but even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. He was a deputy, and that meant checking facts and living by those facts. Not the word of a woman who piqued his interest. Actually, just the opposite.

Because he was attracted to her, he would do even more digging before buying into her story. Still, she could be assured if there was any hint of danger, he’d step up and make sure they were safe. No way he’d leave them to the mercies of a dangerous stalker. No way.

TWO

Nicole had never grilled a steak, but she felt like a burnt and crispy slab of meat after this deputy’s many questions. He stood there staring at her. Matt McKade, he’d said. One hand on a trim waist. One resting on the butt of his gun. A power play? Maybe. Or was he used to relaxing his hand that way? Grady had often done that.

Still, when Matt glanced at Emilie, she caught a hint of compassion in eyes that had burrowed right through her. To be fair to him, she had broken the law, but she had no choice. Okay fine, she might have stayed in the car, but it was just too cold for Emilie, and Nicole wasn’t prepared with warm blankets. She’d searched for nearby houses with lights on, but she’d seen nothing. Then she spotted the Trails End dude ranch sign and the line of empty rental cabins. For her daughter’s sake, she’d wiggled the window hard until the catch gave way and she could creep inside. As she told the deputy, she felt bad for doing so and never would have broken in if Emilie’s life wasn’t in jeopardy. She wouldn’t apologize or defend herself again. Either this guy believed her, or he didn’t. She’d just have to wait for his verdict.

He jerked his head away and shook it. Why, she had no idea.

“Back to when you reported violations of the restraining order,” he suddenly said. “Are you getting a lack of cooperation from everyone in the department?”

She took a breath and warned herself to be patient and not snap at him when he was just doing his job. “I’ve only interacted with the responding officers. I have no idea who else in his department even knows about this.”

Emilie stirred in Nicole’s arms. Guilt was eating at Nicole for putting her child in this precarious situation, so she started rocking to keep her daughter from waking. How could she have done this to Emilie? Tears burned the back of Nicole’s eyes, but she fought hard against them. Emilie needed her to stay strong and fix this, not blubber like a baby.

She met Matt’s gaze, and even when his eyes held a challenge, she didn’t look away. “One thing I do know is I can’t count on the police. I have to take care of myself and Emilie. I’ve heard stories about women dying at the hands of their stalkers. I won’t let that happen to me or my child.”

He ground his teeth for a moment. “You’re right, it does happen. Catching a stalker can often take a long time. That’s even truer of an officer. Like you said, he knows how the system works and can game it.”

“Exactly.” Hope blossomed that he might believe her.

He glanced at Emilie. “How old is your daughter?”

“She just turned three. I was eight months pregnant with her when my husband, Troy, died. His motorcycle was hit by a car.”

The deputy suddenly pressed his finger against his earbud and tipped his head as if listening. “I’m away from my computer and need a physical description from the DL.”

Nicole assumed he meant “driver’s license,” as that was the only thing the police would have with her physical description.

He ran his gaze over her from head to toe, lingering for a long time on her face, before he stared over her shoulder.

Was he checking to see if she matched that description? Likely. She didn’t like that he wouldn’t take her word on her ID, but she also knew from her time with Grady that people frequently lied to law enforcement officers, and with their very lives at stake all the time, they couldn’t be too cautious.

“And the RO in effect?” He listened to the answer, his forehead narrowing. “Any crimes involved causing an action to be taken on behalf of the RO?”

He might be speaking law enforcement lingo, but she got that he was asking if Grady had violated the restraining order. The deputy wouldn’t ask if he believed her, but so what? They would tell him about the number of times she’d called, and he’d know she was telling the truth.

“Pull up Harmon’s DMV details and email them to me.” He released his finger, and his narrowed gaze landed on her again.

“Are you convinced of my identity?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “And I’ve also confirmed the restraining order, but there’s no record of Harmon violating it or the police response.”

“What?” she shouted, and Emilie stirred. Nicole rocked harder to keep her daughter from waking. “He’s violated it tons of times, and the police responded each time. I kept a record of it, but it’s at my apartment.”

“Relax.” He held up a hand. “Because they didn’t arrest Harmon, the official reports won’t show their response.”

“They didn’t keep a record? How can that be?”

“They have a record. It’s just recorded on their blotter instead of in the official arrest system. Blotter records will show that they responded to your residence and the results of their response. Unfortunately, though, these aren’t readily available to outside agencies.”

“But you will request them, right? So you know I’m telling the truth.”

He gave a clipped nod. “Do you have any reason to believe Harmon would know your whereabouts right now?”

“Would he?” Panic flared. “No...no...he didn’t follow us. I made sure of that. He couldn’t, right?”

“He is a police officer and would know how to tail you without you being aware of it.”

“Oh, no...yes, he could. He was in the parking lot and saw me leave.”

“What about your phone? Is it turned on?”

“No...no. I was worried he could trace it, so I left it in the apartment. With the car breaking down, I’m not sure that was a good decision. I planned to buy a new phone, but I don’t have money. I can call my sister in the morning. She’ll bring my wallet to me, and I can get that phone and also pay for the cabin.”

“No.” He fired her a sharp warning look. “That’s not a good idea.”

Her heartbeat shot up. “Why not?”

“If what you say about Harmon is true, he could be watching your apartment, and she could lead him here.”

“Yes, right. Yes. I can totally see him doing that. But what do I do? I need money to fix my car. To pay for this cabin.” Her heart sank. “What have I done taking off like that? I shouldn’t have been so hasty. But Emilie... I had to protect her. I just had to.”

The deputy took a step closer. “We can work all of that out in the morning. For now, let’s solve the immediate problem of where you’ll spend the night. You can’t stay here. I—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “We’re trespassing. The owners will be angry. I’ll get our things, and we’ll leave.” She started to rise.

He held up his hand, his eyes narrowing into a hard look that gave her a moment’s pause, and she didn’t dare move another muscle.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said.

Oh, right! She’d misunderstood, but now she got it. “You’re going to arrest me...aren’t you?” Thoughts zinged through her brain. “What about Emilie? What will happen to her? I don’t...no...I...”

“No, wait. Let me explain.” He flashed up his hand again. “I’m not arresting you, and I’m not tossing you out into the cold. My family owns this ranch, and they’re out of town, so I’m housesitting for them. I won’t leave you in the cabin. Not alone. Harmon could have followed you, and you aren’t safe. I’d like you to stay up at the main house.”

“With you?”

“I’m not a threat.”

“No offense, but I didn’t think Grady was a threat, either, and look where I am now.” If her arms had been free, she would cross them to tell him she meant business.

He looked like he wanted to sigh but didn’t. “You and Emilie can stay on the second floor, and I’ll sleep on the first floor. The house was built in the 1800s. The stairs creak something fierce, and you’ll hear anyone who tries to come up the staircase.”

“I don’t—”

That sigh he’d been fighting finally came pouring out. “The way I see it, you only have two other options—sleep in your car while I park my vehicle next to you, or I stay in this small cabin with you. Whatever your decision, I won’t leave you to fend for yourself when you could be in danger.” His tone had taken on a life of its own, fierce and to the point, but instead of scaring her, she believed it meant if danger lurked he’d be right there fighting it back. Grady had often tried to manage her the same way, but this deputy’s caring tone said he had her best interest at heart, where Grady had just seemed to want his own way.

“We’ll stay at the house,” she said and got up with Emilie.

She only hoped this man—this big, towering deputy, a fierce defender of the downtrodden if she could believe him—was the man he claimed to be, and she wasn’t making a big mistake that could cost her or Emilie dearly. After all, she’d trusted Grady and that didn’t work out well for them. Not well at all.

The next morning, something tickled Matt’s nose, and he shifted on the couch to brush it off. A giggle came from beside him as he attempted to go back to sleep. He flashed his eyes open and met the very big blue eyes of Nicole’s daughter gazing at him, an impish grin on her face as she brushed the tail of a stuffed monkey against his nose. Morning sun streamed through the ranch house’s picture window behind her, giving her feathery blond hair a soft halo.

“Hi,” she said, her voice squeaky and high.

“Hi.” He blinked hard to try to come fully alert after being awake most of the night worrying about this munchkin and her mother. He didn’t much like the fact that he’d been sleeping hard enough not to hear this tiny imp come down the stairs. He had to do a better job of staying alert for this little family.

He smiled at her. “I’m Matt, and you must be Emilie.”

“Uh-huh.” She gave him a shy smile.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In bed.”

“Does she know you’re down here?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Do you think we should tell her?”

“She’s sleeping. Don’t want to wake her up.” She bit her lower lip for a moment. “I’m hungry.”

Matt glanced at the large grandfather clock. It had been in his family for generations, sitting on the mantel. Wow, it was eight already. The only time he slept this late was when he worked the graveyard shift, but after he’d gotten Nicole and Emilie settled in a guest room upstairs, he’d tossed and turned on the sofa until the wee hours of the morning. The stern face of Grady Harmon as seen on his driver’s license kept invading Matt’s thoughts. Matt had done a basic background check on Harmon before he’d gone to sleep last night. The guy had so many advantages as a police officer and knew how to work the system. He also knew how criminals thought and could emulate them when it came to stalking Nicole.

The very thought left Matt unsettled and worried. He still felt that way and would follow up on that blotter information for Harmon’s restraining order to discover if Nicole’s story was true.

He swung his feet to the floor. “Do you like chocolate chip pancakes?”

“Yummy.”

“Then follow me to the kitchen, and I’ll make a batch.” He stood and stepped into the foyer.

Emilie stopped near a ten-foot Christmas tree covered in family heirloom ornaments. The pine scent filled the space.

She stared up at it. “I like your Christmas tree.”

“Me, too. My mom and nana decorate it every year. Some of these ornaments are as old as my granddad.”

Her eyes widened in appreciation.

Matt pointed at a varnished dough snowman. “My nana made each of us a snowman with our names and birthdates. This one is mine.”

“I want one with my name, too.”

“I’m sure if you asked Nana when she gets home today she’ll make one for you.”

“Goody.” She danced with joy and her blond curls sprang into action.

“Let’s get those pancakes.” He led the way to the farm-style kitchen.

On the near side of the room sat a big breakfast table where he’d joined his family more times than he could begin to count. He pulled a chair out for Emilie. She climbed up. The chair seemed monster-sized when her tiny body settled in the middle of the worn wooden seat. She’d never be able to eat by sitting in the chair. What in the world did he do to solve that? Hopefully her mother would’ve gotten up by then. She’d know what to do.

He grabbed orange juice, eggs and milk from the well-stocked refrigerator. His nana did all the cooking for the family, and since he and his three siblings showed up for lunch or dinner on a regular basis, she always kept it filled with food.

He faced Emilie. “Would you like some orange juice?”

“Yes, please.” She smiled up at him. Such sweetness and innocence.

His heart melted into a big old puddle. Smiling, he dug in the cupboard and found a red plastic Kool-Aid cup with a big smile etched on the side that he’d had as a kid and poured her a glass. He placed the cup on the table in front of her.

“Thank you,” she said.

She was a polite little thing. He had to give her mother props for that.

She traced her finger over the Kool-Aid man’s face and giggled. “He’s smiling.”

Matt chuckled with her and got lost in the sound of her pure joy. Law enforcement officers could develop jaded opinions. He was no exception, he supposed. To see pure happiness over such a simple thing was refreshing.

She took a long drink, and he turned back to the cupboards to retrieve pancake ingredients, plus a bowl and whisk, and started mixing. That he knew how to do. Taking care of a three-year-old? Not so much. Sure, he’d had training for his job on how to handle people of all ages but caring for a child like this was another thing all together.

He always imagined he would have his own kids someday and would learn as he went along, but he’d never dated anyone he wanted to settle down with. But this was a crash course in figuring it out, and his confidence was nearly absent. Left him unsettled.

His phone rang. Seeing it was from his sister Kendall, also a Lake County deputy, he quickly accepted the call.

“Sis,” he said.

“I followed up on the Austin PD blotter like you asked me last night.”

“And?” he asked, not liking her reserved tone.

“The desk sergeant said he’d work on gathering the information when he had time.”

“You told him this was urgent, right?”

“Of course.” She sounded like she didn’t appreciate him following up on her. “But he said he’d get to it when he got to it.”

“Translated, it will take a while.”

“And if the sarge is Harmon’s buddy, it’ll take longer.”

Matt heard Emilie’s bare feet padding across the room to the low window, and he turned to look at her.

“You’ve got to keep after them,” he said, putting as much force into his tone as possible. “Lives could depend on us getting the information.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

Right, don’t worry. How could he not? He shoved his phone into his pocket. The adorable child and her mother could be in danger, and he needed information and needed it now.

“Horsies! You have horsies!” Emilie swung around to face him. Her eyes, alive with delight, reminded him of her mother’s.

“Can I ride a horsey?” Emilie shoved her monkey under one arm and tucked it by her side.

“Sure,” Matt quickly replied but instantly thought better of his hasty response. “If your mother says it’s okay, that is.”

Emilie’s forehead furrowed, and her lips puckered in an adorable pout that he thought would make it nearly impossible to say no to anything she asked for. How could such a bitty child have such power over an adult? He’d never experienced anything like it.

“Mommy doesn’t like horses,” she said. “She’s scared of them.”

“Is that so?” Maybe while Nicole was staying at the ranch, he could help her get over that fear. After all, he wouldn’t mind spending time with such a beautiful woman, but forming an attachment to either of them was out of the question. He needed to keep his focus on his work only and personal relationships were off-limits for him.

“She’ll say no.” Emilie’s pout grew more exaggerated.

“I’ll talk to her about it. Maybe I can convince her it’s safe.”

“Goody.” She clapped her hands and turned her attention back to the window.

He started on the pancakes, and while they were cooking, he laid three place settings at the table in case Nicole woke up.

When he’d plated the last pancake, he took them to the table along with a bottle of rich maple syrup. “Pancakes are ready.”

“Yippee.” Emilie skipped across the room, but when she reached the chair her lips dipped in a monster-sized frown. “I need my booster seat.”

That she did, and he still didn’t know how to help her. Here he was a deputy who could face just about anything, and he was thrown by handling a tiny little girl with a smile that melted his heart and a pout that made him want to fix everything on the spot. Most importantly, it made him want to do everything he could to protect her from their stalker. After he confirmed Harmon had indeed been stalking them.

“Mommy lets me sit on her lap when we don’t have my booster.”

Right. Lap. “Would you like to sit on my lap?”

“Yes, please.”

“What about your monkey? We don’t want him to get all sticky, do we?”

She frowned and crossed her arms. “I want to sit with Mr. Monkey.”

“But your mom wouldn’t appreciate a sticky monkey,” he said, grasping at straws for an answer.

Her expression didn’t change.

Panic assailed him, and he never panicked. What did he say to a child who hadn’t developed reasoning skills yet?

“If you want to eat, you can’t hold on to Mr. Monkey.” There, he’d stated it plainly but still held his breath as he waited for her response.

“Mr. Monkey can sit in his own chair.” She placed him on a nearby chair and pushed it in. “He likes pancakes, too.”

Matt sat, and she slipped up onto his lap. She didn’t sit still for even a second but wiggled around until she was comfortable. “You haveta cut my pancakes.”

Matt used his fork to slice them into small bites, but she kept squirming, and he had to constantly shift around her. How could a simple act of cutting up food be so difficult?

“I like syrup.” She picked up the fork, and it looked as big as a pitchfork in her miniature hand.

He poured the syrup, and she attacked the pancakes as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. He reached for his own bite and she bumped the fork on his hand. He licked the sticky syrup off, but his attention soon shifted to the dripping bite she dropped on his jeans.