The Christmas Rescue (6 page)

“No, I'm just waiting for the bread to finish baking.”

“Smells delicious.” Angela wasn't much for baking the way Kayla seemed to be.

“Mr. Rafe!” Brianna bounded into the room. “Come see our village. Please?”

“Ah, sure.” He glanced helplessly at Kayla before allowing Brianna to draw him into the great room. Beneath the tree, she'd created an entire tiny village, complete with movie theater, bookstore, ski chalet and an ice-skating rink. There were tiny figurines and cars set in various locations, too. “Wow, Brianna. This is amazing.”

“I know. My mom's been collecting them since she was a girl,” Brianna announced. “But she told me I'll get it one day.”

“That's nice.” Telling himself not to get too close to Kayla and Brianna was one thing, actually keeping his distance was another. Everywhere he looked were reminders of home and family. The pine scent surrounding the tree brought back memories of his and Angela's first Christmas together.

Blocking out the past wasn't easy. He made a fire in the fireplace as Brianna chatted about their day and then made an excuse to escape to his room, using the time to begin his search on Charlie Turkow and potential links to the coast guard.

Kayla called him down to dinner less than an hour later. He bowed his head to pray, noticing that everyone else waited for him to finish before starting to eat. Next time, he'd ask them to join him in prayer.

The beef stew and the homemade bread were delicious, but he didn't linger over the meal, anxious to finish so they could begin their search.

Kayla cleared the table, and he jumped up to help,
figuring two could get the job done faster than one. Ellen took over, shooing them out of the way.

“I'll do the dishes. Brianna can help.”

“Aw, Grandma,” Brianna whined. “I don't wanna help.”

“Why not? I thought you liked helping your grandma?” For a moment Ellen looked hurt by Brianna's refusal.

“I do,” Brianna agreed. “I'll help.” Then she brightened. “Can we go Christmas shopping tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

Rafe went into the great room, waiting for Kayla to join him.

“Where would you like to start?” she asked.

“Does Jeremy have anything here related to the charter fishing business?” he asked, hoping Kayla hadn't tossed anything out.

“There are a couple of boxes in the attic, I think,” she said. “But I don't know if they'll be much help.”

“It's worth a try.” Rafe hung back, letting her walk up the stairs leading to the second floor. “Where is the access to the attic?”

“Actually, it's hidden in the closet of your guest room,” Kayla said heading for the doorway leading into his room.

“My room?” Surprised, he followed her in, glad that years of living on a boat meant that he kept his things neatly tucked away. The fact that the attic access happened to be in the room where the break-ins were focused only reaffirmed his suspicions. “Was this the same room Greg Landrum used?”

“No, he was two rooms over,” Kayla said, as she opened the closet door and pulled on a thin cord that hung down from the ceiling. A trap door in the ceiling
fell open and she unfolded a narrow ladder that was tucked inside. “Brr, it's cold up there. And dark. We'll need a flashlight.”

“I have one right here.” Always prepared, Rafe had already pulled out the flashlight from the back of his jeep. He flicked it on and put a hand on Kayla's slim shoulder, preventing her from climbing up the ladder. “Would you mind waiting? I'd like to check things out first.”

She hesitated and then moved aside. Rafe gingerly stepped on the ladder, testing it to make sure it would hold his weight.

“Jeremy went up there all the time. I'm sure it's fine,” Kayla said.

“All right.” He climbed the ladder, holding the flashlight in one hand. Kayla was right, the air was much cooler up here.

At the top, he poked his head through the opening and then cast the flashlight around the area. His pulse jumped when he noticed the boxes Kayla mentioned. They stood open, the contents strewn messily around the room.

Someone had already been up there.

“D
o you see them?” Kayla asked, craning her neck and trying to see when Rafe stood silently for several long moments at the top of the attic ladder. “I'm sure I stored the boxes up there.”

“Yes, they're here.” Rafe's long, lean legs disappeared from view as he climbed the rest of the way up. He leaned over the edge, peering down at her, his expression grave. “Kayla, someone's been up here.”

“What?” She quickly ascended the ladder to see for herself. She sucked in a harsh breath when she saw the mess, files, papers and notebooks lying haphazardly on the floor. “I didn't leave it like this,” she whispered.

“No, I'm sure you didn't.” Rafe's expression in the glow of the flashlight was grim. “But obviously we know what your odd guest Greg Landrum was doing. The two burglary attempts were caught before the intruder made it inside, so this had to be done by someone who'd been here. You mentioned how you heard loud noises from Greg Landrum's room at night. I'm sure you heard him up here while he was searching through your husband's things.”

“I don't believe it.” Kayla shivered and not from the cold. The very thought of Greg Landrum being up here
made her blood run cold. “So, does this mean he already found what he was looking for?”

“I doubt it, since Landrum, or somebody he works for, continues to try to break in.” Keeping his head down, Rafe walked over to pick up one file, tucking the scattered papers back inside. “No, the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced they didn't find what they wanted.”

“Maybe because it's not up here.” Kayla rubbed her hands on her arms, hating the feeling of being violated. She'd known Greg Landrum was an odd man, but she really hadn't considered he'd been searching through her attic while he was a guest in her home. Not a nice way to return her hospitality.

“Do you have anything of Jeremy's stored in your private rooms?” Rafe asked, continuing to straighten the mess.

“No.” She'd kept their family photographs of course, but she'd given his clothes to charity so that they would be put to good use. “There's one small box containing his sports trophies from high school that I returned to Ellen, but that's about all. Jeremy wasn't big into collecting things. Except when it came to fishing. And all his fishing stuff is mixed in with the business.”

Rafe knelt beside the largest box and began poking around inside. She crossed over to another box and did the same. “So what exactly are we looking for?” she asked, noting that most of what was in the box were old bookkeeping records from the charter fishing trips Jeremy had taken. Her husband had kept painstakingly detailed notes, tracking where the best fishing was so he could take other guests to the same spots.

He shrugged. “I don't know. I suspect we'll know once we find it.”

“Great. That sure helps. Not.” Kayla decided that rather than searching through Jeremy's things, since she doubted she'd know it when she found it, she'd concentrate on cleaning up the mess. She sat down, and began the painstaking job of putting Jeremy's files back the way he'd left them, in chronological order.

Rafe glanced over at her. “You don't need to stay, Kayla,” he said in a low voice. “It's cold up here. I promise I'll show you whatever I find.”

She looked up in surprise. “I know.” Somehow, it felt wrong to leave him alone to poke through Jeremy's things. She didn't exactly relish the trip down memory lane, but couldn't force herself to leave the task to him, either. But her fingers were already turning numb with cold, so she stood and headed back toward the ladder intending to get some gloves. “I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“Take your time,” he said, as if sensing how difficult this would be for her. She went back downstairs to put on a heavy wool sweater and some knit gloves. Brianna and Ellen were watching
The Grinch Who Stole Christmas
on television, so she left them to their movie, heading back upstairs.

Rafe was looking at the guest logs of Jeremy's trips. He glanced up at her when she returned. “Tell me, did your husband take photographs of his guests with their catch?”

“All the time.” She never quite understood the appeal, but had always acted suitably impressed when Jeremy showed her what his clients had caught. “There should be a whole stack of photographs in here somewhere since he always kept a copy for himself, too. He often used them for marketing purposes.”

“Help me look for them,” Rafe suggested.

Abandoning her plan to put everything back in order, she went through one box while Rafe searched the other. She found lots of notes, some nautical maps, receipts of various expenses but no photographs.

Not a single one.

Disturbed by their absence, she rocked back on her heels. Rafe had come up empty as well. “How odd that the photographs are missing. And there were some other pictures, too, not just of Jeremy's clients. But some of Jeremy and Bill together in front of their boat.”

“And you're sure the photographs were up here? You didn't store them someplace else?”

She shook her head. “I'm positive.”

“What about that framed photograph of you and Jeremy hanging down in your kitchen? Was that taken about the same time as these others?”

She frowned. “Yes, I guess so. I think that photograph was taken on their one-year anniversary of being in business. I was pregnant with Brianna at the time.”

Rafe blew out an exasperated breath as he glanced at the boxes. “So Greg Landrum must have taken the photographs.”

“I have to assume so. But why?” She didn't understand. “What good are a bunch of old photographs? What do they prove?”

“I'm not sure,” Rafe murmured. “But I think whatever Landrum found in the pictures must not have been exactly what he was looking for. There must be something else here. Something they still want.” The grim expression in his eyes caused an icy fear to seep into her bones, and not from the chilly attic temperature.

 

Rafe couldn't sleep. Long after Kayla had returned downstairs to go to bed, Rafe stayed awake. After
checking his cell phone several times, looking for a missed call from his partner, he tossed the instrument aside with disgust and reached for his laptop.

Evan hadn't called. Because his quarry hadn't reached his destination? Somehow, Rafe doubted it. Surely by this time, Karl Yancy had docked somewhere. No one drove a boat all night without taking a rest. He'd give Evan until the morning to touch base, and if his partner didn't call him by then, he'd go to Luke Sanders.

But his partner's lack of communication wasn't the real reason he couldn't sleep. The knowledge of how Greg Landrum had been inside Kayla's house gnawed at him.

There was a possibility that Landrum had killed Bill Schroeder. What if Landrum had intended to harm Kayla or Brianna, too? Greg Landrum could very easily have left them both dead. The realization sent a shaft of fear straight through his heart.

Landrum had gotten way too close. Rafe wanted Kayla far away from this guy since they had no idea what he was really capable of. Sure, the burglary attempts hadn't involved hurting anyone. But what if that changed?

Rafe continued searching the Internet, looking at anything connected to Landrum. He needed a photograph. Using his secure access to the coast guard's search engines, he eventually hit pay dirt.

The Department of Motor Vehicle Registration for the state of Illinois gave him exactly what he needed. A grainy photograph of Greg Landrum and the man looking back at him didn't resemble the guy Kayla had described. She'd estimated her guest as being in his mid-thirties with dishwater blond hair. The statistics on the man he'd found claimed he was forty-seven years old,
his hair brown and his eyes hazel. He was also listed as being six-feet tall, and two hundred and fifty pounds. Kayla hadn't given him a height and a weight estimate, but she'd given him the impression that the guy who'd stayed here had been much smaller than that.

He saved the photograph to his hard drive. Kayla would need to verify the Greg Landrum he'd found in Chicago wasn't the same man who'd stayed as a guest. And once she did, then what? Was it possible Landrum had given her a fake address?

Landrum wasn't a common last name. He broadened his search, to make sure he didn't miss any other potential hits for Kayla's mysterious guest. Other than a sixty-nine-year-old gerontologist, who he ruled out easily enough, he didn't find any.

He smiled grimly. The idiot would have been smarter to use a bogus name like Greg Jones. Now he knew the odd guest had used a fake ID. For the first time since learning about Schroeder's death, he felt a sense of excitement. Landrum had made one mistake. Two, if you counted how he'd interrupted the second break-in attempt.

All Rafe had to do was to figure out how to capitalize on them.

He shut his laptop down and turned off the lights. If he didn't get some sleep, then he wouldn't be able to protect Kayla.

One thing was for certain. He wouldn't allow Kayla to rent out any more rooms to strangers. Not until he'd caught the man who kept trying to break in.

And not until they'd found Schroeder's murderer.

He closed his eyes and prayed.
Please help give me the wisdom to keep Kayla and Brianna safe, Lord.

 

Kayla prepared another batch of breakfast pastries, peach-filled this time. She couldn't deny that she liked having Rafe here to cook for. Something about having a man around was oddly reassuring. Clyde sat at her feet, his ever-hopeful gaze waiting for a scrap to fall so he could pounce on it.

She stepped around the dog as she worked. She'd slept through the night, feeling safe between Rafe sleeping upstairs and having set her security system. Somehow, she'd doubted the intruder would return, now that Rafe had taken off after him. He had to know Rafe was waiting.

When Rafe came down to the kitchen carrying a notebook computer, he looked a little rough around the edges, as if he could have used more sleep. Wordlessly, she poured him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he murmured, setting down the computer so he could take a sip. He opened the laptop, turning it so the screen faced her way. “Do you recognize this guy?” he asked.

“No.” She glanced at him curiously. “Never saw him before in my life. Why?”

“Because this is Greg Landrum from Chicago.” Rafe closed the laptop cover. “I haven't found any other potential Greg Landrums in the Midwest, either. I believe your guy used an assumed name.”

Her coffee curdled in her stomach. “That's scary. He gave me a credit card number, but he also paid in cash.” Hearing the murmur of voices from Ellen and Brianna, she glanced toward the doorway of her private suite of rooms. “Don't mention this to Ellen, please? I don't want her to worry.”

“All right,” Rafe nodded. “But Kayla, you can't keep
renting rooms out to strangers. Not until we get to the bottom of this.”

She wanted to protest, but knew Rafe was right. Hadn't she already made that decision last night, after seeing the mess in the attic? She couldn't believe Greg Landrum had searched her home. Still, her business was already suffering. It wouldn't be easy to turn down any last-minute calls for a room. She grimaced. “Well, lucky for you, I don't have any guests booked until the middle of January.”

“I'm sorry, Kayla.” Rafe's dark eyes reflected his regret. “But it's for the best.”

“I know.” She tried to smile. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“I need another favor,” Rafe said slowly. “Do you think you could describe your mystery guest to a police artist?”

She lifted a brow in surprise. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“I'd like you to try.” Rafe leaned forward, earnestly. “At the moment, I don't have anything else to go on. A picture of this guy would be a place to start.”

The thought of working with a police artist was a little intimidating, but she couldn't refuse Rafe's request. After all, wouldn't helping Rafe help her, too? The quicker they found the guy, the less likely she'd have to turn down a paying guest. “All right. But I've never done something like this before. I don't know if the drawing will be accurate.”

“You'd be surprised. Thank you, Kayla. I'll make the arrangements.” Rafe's voice rang with satisfaction. “This will work. You'll see.”

She wished she could be as positive. She set the tray of peach pastries on the table. When Ellen came in a
few minutes later, she glanced at her mother-in-law. “Where's Brianna?”

“Brushing her teeth.”

Kayla poured her mother-in-law some coffee. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Brianna for a few hours today? Rafe and I have an errand to run.”

Ellen's eyes widened with frank curiosity as she glanced between Rafe and Kayla. “Ah, sure. Brianna and I were going to do some Christmas shopping this afternoon anyway.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Rafe spoke up. “Couldn't you just hang around here with the security system engaged?”

“What would we do here all day?” Ellen wanted to know. She swung back to face Kayla. “Are we in danger?”

The burglar attempts had been very real, but so far, there hadn't been any threat to anyone on a personal level. “Rafe?” Feeling helpless, she glanced at him. “What do you think? Would Christmas shopping be the worst thing in the world? The mall will be crowded, considering there is less than ten days left before Christmas.”

He sighed, swiped a hand down his face, looking like he wanted to refuse, but then nodded. “You're probably right. Christmas shopping in broad daylight should be fine. I would ask one favor, though. We all need to leave at the same time, so I can set the security system. Ellen, you and Brianna have to stay shopping until we've returned. That way, I can go through the house first, just to make sure everything is fine.”