Gooch finally moved, pulling what looked like a high-tech, sawed-off shotgun from underneath his suit-coat. Libby really hoped that Kris knew what he was doing.
The next sound was a loud thud on the roof, followed by footsteps. Everyone looked upward, as if they could see through the roof. Libby wasn’t ruling out the possibility that Gooch could do so.
The helicopter moved away from the house. It hovered not far away, its sound still present, but fainter.
The phone rang, startling everyone. Libby’s father walked to the glass table in the center of the room and picked up the receiver. “It’s about time,” he barked at the caller, sounding like his old self. He then put it on speakerphone for all to hear.
“Hello everyone, I just wanted to drop in and wish you a merry Christmas,” Kris’ voice filled the room.
A couple of loud, quick footsteps coming from the roof broke the moment. “Whoa—there’s a lot of ice. I don’t know how Santa does it—you could lose your ass up here!”
“Daddy!” the twins shouted in unison.
“How are my girls doing?”
“We got to wear our Christmas dresses,” Franny exclaimed.
“And Grandpa got his finger cut off, but Mom says it was a magic trick,” Zooey added.
“From what I’m told, your grandfather hired the renowned Dutch magician, Goochelaar, for the night. What a great Christmas surprise.”
“It seems that he is full of surprises,” Libby spoke up, looking at her father for the first time since dinner. “He turned out just as you said. I guess I just wouldn’t listen.”
“Cut him some slack, he must have done something right if his daughter turned out so well.”
A slight smile slipped through her misery. “Thank you.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t force me to take your parents in the divorce.”
“From what I hear, I should have asked for half of this lost treasure that you seem to know the location of.”
“Sounds like you’ve been talking to my old friend Stone Scroggie.”
“He was here when I arrived—and they already had Taylor and Alex. I had no choice but to call you.”
“You did the right thing, Libby—is everyone okay?”
“We’re fine.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
Taylor could sense that Libby was at the end of her emotional rope, and took over, “Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, sweetheart. I hear that you and your brother didn’t follow my directions. I guess the more things change, the more they stay the same.”
“I’m sorry, we went to your apartment to see if we could find out what was going on. We shouldn’t have been snooping—that Gooch dude was there.”
“Now that you’ve re-acquainted yourself with your family, I think you have something for me, Collins,” Scroggie interrupted.
“I got what you want—perhaps you should come up here and get it.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to be dictating terms.”
“I’d like to come to you, but I don’t know how I’m going to fit down this chimney. I’ve put on a few this year—I can never turn down those damn cookies.”
“Stop stalling!”
“Okay, okay … I’ll just drop it down.”
An object crashed down into the fieldstone fireplace. Jacqueline pulled it out to reveal a bag. But it didn’t contain a billion dollars. “It’s full of candy,” she said, holding up a box of Milk Duds.
“I’ve been to these Wainwright dinners, so I know that minestrone soup and white fish isn’t cutting it. I figured my kids could use some real food.”
“You would know all about candy,” Alexander spoke up.
“I’m sorry,
Dad,
would you have preferred some finger food?”
The color in his face went from nonexistent to angry red. “Get your ass off my roof, and give the man his money!”
“Nobody gets their gift until the Christmas Eve traditions are complete,” Kris’ voice shot back through the phone. “What’s tonight, Taylor?”
She smiled wide, understanding. “It’s the night before Christmas.”
Libby remembered when Taylor and Alex were younger, and they couldn’t go to bed on Christmas Eve until they recited “The Night Before Christmas” with their father.
Scroggie grew more impatient, but Kris went on undeterred. “Twas the night before Christmas.”
“And all through Grandpa’s house,” Taylor followed.
“Not a creature was stirring.”
Taylor looked at her brother, pressuring him to join. As usual, she won out. “Not even a mouse,” Alex said. The scampering of feet across the roof accentuated the point.
“Are the stockings hung?” Kris asked.
“By the chimney with care,” Taylor answered.
“In hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there,” Alex said.
“Are the children nestled all snug in their beds?”
“No, they are on the couch, surrounded by Mr. Scroggie’s goons, but I can tell that sugar plums are dancing in their heads,” Taylor said.
“And mama?”
“In her kerchief.”
“And for the record, nobody ever looked hotter in a kerchief than your mother.”
“Dad!” Taylor squealed. “Ick.”
“And I in my cap,” Alex picked up where his sister left off.
“You’re about to get your kids sent to a permanent dirt nap,” Scroggie chimed in.
“I didn’t know you were a poet, Stone. Anybody else want to join in—Jacqueline? Gooch?”
When nobody answered, Kris continued, “When out on the lawn arose such a clatter.”
As if scripted, the helicopter flew near the house again. It buzzed the tower, and the draft from the whipping rotors shook the windows. “I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.”
“Away to the window I flew like a flash,” Taylor said.
“Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash,” Alex followed.
As if the poem was a clue, Jacqueline moved to the window and slid the drapes open. It was too dark to see anything.
So she pulled out her gun and headed out of the room. Libby wanted to scream out to Kris, but she looked up to see that Gooch had Franny in his clutches. He peered at Libby. “One peep and it won’t be a very merry Christmas for you.”
Jacqueline stepped out into the dark night, her gun drawn. The helicopter was gone, and the night was quiet and still. The only thing visible was her breath.
She could still hear Collins’ voice on the speakerphone in the Great Room. “The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow, gave the luster of midday to objects below. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear …”
As she tried to find the best vantage point to locate Collins on the roof, something jarred her mind. Why could she hear his voice coming from inside the house, but not out here … where he actually was?
“But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer!”
Just as she looked up to confirm her theory, a heavy object landed on her face and she crashed to the ground. Pain tore through her body and her gun slid away. But she didn’t get this far by being weak. She fought off her attacker to regain control of the gun.
She held it at him, and instructed him to slowly get to his feet and show his hands. The first thing she noticed was that he was shorter than expected. And when she examined his face, he was pudgy and looked to be Hispanic. This definitely wasn’t Kris Collins. What was going on?
“Who are you?” she demanded.
He smiled smugly. “My friends call me Berto.”
“Since I’m going to shoot you, I’m hardly your friend.”
“Then you can call me Woby.”
She laughed through the pain. “Like the whale? It does fit—try mixing in a salad in the afterlife, Woby Dick.” She raised the gun to his head.
“No … it stands for Watch Out Behind You.”
Before his words could register, a shoulder drove into her lower back and sent her to the ground once more. The man pounced on her and put his hand over her mouth. The last thing he said to her was, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.” And then Tomás knocked her out cold.
After Berto helped him up, they both glanced up to the rooftop. When they did, Gustavo winked back at them.
But this was no time for celebration—there was much work to do.
“Now Dasher, now Dancer, now …” I recited, and then suddenly my phone disappeared out of my hand.
I instinctively turned. Even in the dark coal cellar I was able to make out Gooch—his pearly whites glowed as he mocked me with his smile.
He clicked off my phone, which he held in one hand. But I was more concerned with the large gun he had in the other.
“I think Dancer is how we met—a feisty blonde that I’d mistaken for one of my students, if I recall correctly.”
“No cookies this time?”
“Sorry, I left them out for Santa tonight. You were very lucky that your friend showed up that night—have you ever suffocated a man to death?”
“Haven’t had the pleasure.”
“I’ve killed many men, but it’s the one method that I’ve never felt good about. Although, I imagine cookies would be more preferable than coal for a last meal.”
“So is that how you plan to get rid of me?”
“It’s up to you. You’re a very lucky man—most of us won’t be able to dictate the way we leave this planet. But you’ll get to choose.”
“Sounds like I won the lottery. I’m assuming that big gun is one of my choices.”
“That’s the easy way out. If you deliver me our money, then I will put one bullet in your head, and it will be quick and painless.”
“And if I don’t?”
“First, I will make you watch when I put each one of your children in there,” he pointed to the large coal furnace, powerful enough to heat the entire manor house.
Those were fighting words. I rushed Gooch, but before I could get near him a roundhouse kick landed right in my throat. I fell backwards into the cinder-block wall and collapsed to the cold floor. It was starting to become eerily reminiscent of our last meeting. I could still hear the helicopter in the distance, but unless it was able to fly itself, Alyson wouldn’t be able to save me this time.
He tossed away the gun, mentioning something about wanting a fair fight, but my head was spinning too fast to fully comprehend his words. He walked to my slumped body and ordered me to get up. I wasn’t sure that I could even if I wanted to, and I definitely didn’t want to.
So he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet. A lightning quick right-hook pummeled my face.
He let go of my hair and I dropped to the floor again.
“This is your last chance to make a decision. And just so you know, if I am forced to make it for you I’m going to start with Taylor. But before I cook her, I’m going to enjoy her as an appetizer.”
“You win, you win,” I called out the best I could with my kicked-in throat. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath.” I was struggling to breathe and the air quality in the musty cellar wasn’t helping. “Then I’ll bring you and Scroggie to the money.”
Gooch laughed. “You really think I plan to share the money with Scroggie?”
I said nothing, surprised.
“It doesn’t seem fair that I’d only take ten percent when I’m doing all the work, now does it? And since the others think I’m out looking for you on the roof, they’ll never see you ever again … at least until your body washes ashore. But I’ll be long gone by then.”
Before I could respond, Gooch was heading back toward me. This time I was more prepared and tried to put up my hands to protect myself. But the weight of his body was too much and he crashed down on me.
Despite the darkness, my eyes had adjusted enough to see the blood on his back. I was also able to see the dark silhouette holding a gun with an attached silencer.
“Good help is just so hard to find these days,” Stone Scroggie said.
“See what happens to those who steal from me?” Scroggie said.
“It happened really fast, could you shoot him again so I can get a better idea?”
He pointed the gun directly at my throbbing cheek. “You always have the smart answer, don’t you? Which is a good thing, because the only smart answer left for you is to tell me where my money is.”
It seemed that my captor had changed but my luck remained the same. As did the terms of the deal—I would hand over the money in exchange for the lives of my family and friends (without any real guarantees, other than the word of a sociopath), and I would get to die.
He shrugged. “I never wanted to kill you, Kris—I’ve actually found you to be a worthy opponent, and I’ve gained respect for you.”
“From what I hear, Stone Scroggie always gets what he wants, and I wouldn’t want to make an exception this time.”