Lori Wilde - Mistletoe & Mayhem

A strong sense of déjà vu moved through her and fear settled cold and hard in her stomach. Less than six months ago, she’d seen Irene and Sophie framed in the same window with their nephew Billy. When she’d come into the café, they’d waved to her to join them. That evening, they’d asked her to be their guest at the hotel for dinner. The rest had been history—one she didn’t care to repeat. Nor was she about to stand by and allow the Rutherford sisters to be taken in by another smooth-talking charmer.

A quick glance at her watch told her that she could either be on time for work, or she could stop by the sheriff’s office and ask him about his wife’s two-or-three-times-removed cousin. Once out on the street, she took the lid off her cup of cappuccino, inhaled the cinnamon, and took a long swallow. It might only be a baby step, but she was changing. Perhaps those foolish mottoes were working, after all. Either that or she was learning from her mistakes. Whatever it was, she was going to get to the truth about Shane Sullivan. Turning, she headed down the street toward the municipal building. No one could really be named Shane.

THE DOOR WITH Sheriff Dillon’s name on it stood open. Jodie paused, noting that the desk in the outer office was empty. That meant that his deputy, Mike Buckley, was either at lunch or working on a case.

“C’mon in. I’m here.” The voice came from the adjacent room and Jodie headed toward it. Mark Dillon, who’d been sheriff for as long as she could remember, was indeed in—deep in a book, as far as she could tell. His back was to her, his feet propped on a nearby window ledge. The moment she entered the room, he dog-eared his paperback with a grunt, swung his feet down and swiveled to face her. A smile spread slowly across his face as he waved her into a chair.

Sheriff Dillon hadn’t changed much from the first time she’d met him, except that his waist was a little thicker and his hair had started to thin. His smile was certainly the same, as was the shrewdness in his eyes. The kids at the college often underestimated him when they had the misfortune to cross his path, but he had a reputation for fairness among the students.

“I was going to stop by the library to talk to you.” His gaze dropped to his watch, then met hers. “Shouldn’t you be there right now?”

Good old predictable Jodie. The thought had her lifting her chin. “I’m going to be late. I doubt that the world will end.”

“No, I guess it won’t. I hear you had a prowler last night.”

It occurred to her that she hadn’t thought about the prowler once on her walk over. All she’d been thinking about was Shane Sullivan.

“And instead of reporting it,” Sheriff Dillon continued as he flipped his notebook open, “you decided to ask Hank Jefferson to sell you a gun.”

“Yes, I did.”

Mark Dillon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Buying a gun? That doesn’t sound like you, Jodie.”

“Well, maybe I’m tired of being like me! Do you have any idea what it was like to wake up and know that someone was in the house, walking around in the attic? I tried to call you and the phone wouldn’t work. Irene left the extension in the kitchen off the hook. She swears not, but—”

“What time did this happen?” Dillon asked, pulling his notebook closer.

“Shortly after midnight. I hadn’t been asleep for long.”

“And you heard something that woke you up?”

Jodie frowned. “No. Sophie said she heard a muffled crash. But I must have slept through that.”

Dillon nodded. “And then what?”

“I waited and listened. Then I heard floorboards creak in the attic. I was tracking the steps across the floor when Sophie and Irene opened my door. They were armed with fireplace pokers, and Sophie insisted we go up there. I couldn’t talk her out of it. I shouted up the stairs that we were armed, and luckily, by the time we got up there, he was out the window and halfway down that old elm tree.”

“Did you get a good look at him or her?” Dillon asked.

Jodie thought for a minute. “I’d say it was a him. He was tall and slender. We could see him run off toward the road.”

“Was he carrying anything?”

Jodie shook her head. “He had to use both hands getting down that tree.”

Dillon set his pencil down. “Don’t you have a dog out there? What was he doing during all this?”

“Lazarus?” The dog was a stray she’d found nearly dead by the side of the road. “I don’t know if he was ever much of a watchdog, but since Doc Cheney brought him back from the dead, nothing interrupts his beauty sleep—which is why I need a gun.”

Dillon closed his notebook. “A gun isn’t the answer. You don’t know how to use one, so the chances are pretty good that a prowler could overpower you, take the gun away, and after that…” He met her eyes directly as he let the sentence trail off. “On the other hand, I can’t do much besides send young Buckley out there to drive by every so often. Are any of those rooms in good enough shape yet to rent to a boarder?”

Jodie looked at him. “Funny you should suggest that. We’ve got a boarder, and that’s what I came to talk to you about. I want to know all about Shane Sullivan.”

“Shane? You’ve met him already?”

“Yes. Irene and Sophie introduced him to me after they’d already hired him on as a handyman and rented him the apartment over the garage. What do you know about him?”

“He’s a distant cousin of Kathy’s. He gave us a call a few days ago, said he was in the area. Seems he’s quit his corporate job, and he’s looking for a place to settle down. Kathy’s convinced him to give upstate New York a try.”

“So he came here at Christmas? Doesn’t he have a home or a family to spend the holidays with?”

“No,” Dillon said. “Evidently his job has been keeping him on the move. He’s never had a chance to settle down.”

“What kind of job?” Jodie asked.

“Some sort of consulting business. Took him all over the place.”

“Including California. He’s got Nadine Carter dreaming of beaches and movie stars and a new way to get out of Castleton.”

“I’m sure Shane can take care of himself,” Dillon said.

“I’m more worried about Nadine. And I’m curious as to why Mr. Sullivan has all of a sudden discovered this deep-rooted desire to become a handyman.”

“Kathy thinks it’s some kind of midlife crisis. You know, come to think of it, this arrangement could be the answer to your problems. Ours, too. We don’t really have room for him at the house with Kelly and David both home for the holidays. Shane must have realized that. And with a man living out there at Rutherford House, a prowler would have to think twice.”

Jodie met Dillon’s eyes squarely. “Pardon me, but the Rutherford sisters had a man living in their house six months ago, and thanks to him they lost their life savings!”

“I can vouch for the fact that Shane won’t be conning them out of any more of their money.”

“I’m not worried about their money. They don’t have any left. The problem is that they’re…he’s…” Pausing, Jodie searched for the right words. “It’s just that they seem to be every bit as charmed by him as they were by Billy, and I don’t want them taken in and…hurt again.”

“I see.” Dillon studied her for a moment. “As far as I know, there’s precious little anyone can do to protect people from being hurt. But if you want, I’ll speak to Shane, tell him to keep his distance.”

Jodie sat still, thinking. What had she expected him to do? From his point of view, having Shane move into the apartment over the garage must seem like the perfect solution. But it wasn’t. She was sure of it, as sure as…