Julia Spencer-Fleming: I Shall Not Want

"That was the first body?"

"Yeah. Isabel was out with some of the family, searching that night, and saw the whole thing. She took the guy's bag and hid it, thinking to protect her brother. Then, of course, the PDs got desperate. The merchandise was one thing, but they'd lost their distribution list."

"So what did Amy Nguyen say?"

"Alejandro Santiago and his compadres will be going away for a long, long time." He grinned, showing his canines.

"And the Christies?"

His grin fell away. "We don't have anything on Bruce. He claims he had no idea about any of it and was shocked-shocked!-when his brothers revealed their stash in the barn that day."

"Maybe-"

He shook his head. "Donald and Neil between them only had half a brain. Just look at how they died. No, he was behind it. We just can't prove it."

"That's not right."

He smiled a little. "We've had this talk before." He held out his hand. She took it. He tugged her closer. "When I get out of here-"

"You're going to the Rehabilitation Center at the Glens Falls Hospital. Maybe you can have Sister Lucia's old room. She's been released."

"Okay, when I get out of rehab-" He stopped. "You know, you were right."

"I was?"

"About it taking time. It's going to take five months of hard work to come back from this." He rested his free hand on his bandaged chest. "Losing Linda was worse. It hurt me more than this did. I do need to give it time. A year's not too long." He tightened his grip on her hand. "So when I get out of the hospital, and when I get out of rehab, and when I make it through the anniversary-"

She smiled. "What?"

"We'll have a talk."

Clare wished Janet and Mike hadn't lit the fire. She and Father St. Laurent stood with their backs to the foliage-bedecked hearth, and while she was sure they looked picturesque, she was roasting in her cassock. She sighed silently and waited for the priest to finish translating the last part.

"Le requiero y cargo ambos, aquí en la presencia del Dios, que de cualquiera de usted saben cualquier razón por la que usted no puede ser unido en la unión legal, y de acuerdo con la palabra del Dios, usted ahora la confiesa."

The only response was Mike McGeoch, honking into his handkerchief, and the rumble of the furnace kicking in. Father St. Laurent smiled at her. What a hunk. Such a shame.

She looked at Isabel, who clutched Amado's hand. "Isabel," Clare began, "will you have this man to be your husband; to live together in the covenant of marriage?"

Careful, Chief, careful." Noble hovered over Russ, making his way up the marble steps with the help of his much-loathed cane. He'd already decided he was going to burn the damn thing for the winter solstice.

"I'm not going to fall, Noble." He tried to keep his voice even. "If I couldn't walk, they wouldn't have let me come back to work."

"Well, it might be slippery." Noble bent to study the hallway floor. "Might be some melted snow we didn't get up."

He limped into Harlene's dispatch center, Noble at his back. It was empty. They were in the squad room. He could hear muffled laughter, someone shushing. He sighed. Limped through the door.

"Welcome back!" The shout was deafening. Someone-Harlene, probably-had gotten everyone in, all shifts, the full-timers and the part-time guys, every one of his people. His people. Young, old, men, women. They smiled at him. Waiting for him to give a speech. Not his strong suit.

"So," he said. "This morning would be a good time to rob a bank in town." They laughed.

Lyle came up beside him and faced the small crowd. "There oughta be a nice ceremonial way to show I'm beatin' feet away from the chief's chair, as fast as I can run, and turning it back over to the guy who actually belongs there. I thought maybe I could take the chief's insignia off my collar and pin it on him, except I never put it on." He glanced at Russ. "So I figured I'd put something on myself to indicate I was resuming my life of leisure." He reached back and pulled the grungiest Day-Glo orange hunting cap Russ had ever seen out of his rear pocket, snapped it open, and squared it on his head. He held out his hand. "Welcome back, Russ."

Russ pumped his hand, and everybody cheered and the next thing he knew he was hugging Lyle, who was pounding him on the back and saying, "Don't ever scare me like that again," in Russ's ear.

They broke apart, Lyle shifting from foot to foot, Russ banging his cane on the floor. "One hug every eight years," Russ said. "That's my limit."

Then Harlene and Knox hugged him, and Kevin lugged in boxes of pastries from the Kreemie Kakes diner and he thought, I'm the luckiest sonofabitch in the world .

Hadley was helping Hudson and Genny decorate the tree when the doorbell rang. Well, maybe "refereeing" was a better word. Hudson had to place every ornament in a particular place, and God help them all if one of the frosted bulbs got too close to a flying reindeer. Genny, on the other hand, was free-form. Right now she was tossing handfuls of tinsel at her side of the tree. Some of it was even landing on the branches.

"Be good," Hadley told them, as she crossed to the door.

It was Kevin Flynn, taking a break from patrol. He was in uniform, his unit idling curbside. He took off his hat and beat away the snow that had fallen on the shoulders of his coat.

"Flynn?"

"Hi," he said. "I know you have the rest of the week off, so I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Thanks. Uh, Merry Christmas to you, too."

"Would you like to join the Flynns for our traditional Christmas dinner?"

"Thanks, but we've already made plans."

He glanced past her to where the kids had fallen silent. Undoubtedly taking in every word. "Sledding?"

She stepped onto the porch and closed the door behind her. "No. Flynn, you have to stop asking me out."

"I will. If my feelings change. Until then?" He shrugged, his coat rising and falling.

She stared up at him. "What is it with you?"

He took a step toward her. Stop him , she told herself. He slid his hands along her jawline, her cheekbones. Do something, woman . He bent his head. Just say no. Oh. Oh, my God . He held her as if she were a breakable ornament and kissed her as if she were the only warm thing in winter. "Merry Christmas," he whispered. She was still catching her breath when he bounded down the stairs. She listened to the thump of his cruiser door. Watched his rear lights dwindle in the falling snow.

"Oh, Flynn." She wrapped her arms around herself. "What am I going to do with you?"

She got the call she had been expecting on Christmas Day, at the Ellis house, after dinner but before the pie and cake had been cut. The kids had fled to the family room, leaving behind a litter of china and adults with elbows propped on the table, finishing off the wine.

Clare's cell rang, a number she didn't recognize. Maybe a wrong number. Maybe a parishioner who had bottomed out on the hardest holiday of the year. "I have to take this," she said, rising. Dr. Anne waved her away.

In the living room, she flipped open her phone. She listened to what the man on the other end of the line had to say. She said, "Yes, sir," and, "Thank you, sir," and hung up. She stood there a long time, staring at the Ellises' tall tree, heavy with children's homemade ornaments.

"Clare?" Gail Jones stuck her head in the door. "If you need to go somewhere, I can drive you."

Clare shook her head. She walked past Gail, back into the dining room. The chatter fell silent as they saw her face. "Are you all right?" Karen Burns stood up. "Is everything okay?"