Geri Krotow - Her Christmas Protector

“Dad, I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. And my counseling is starting to take off.”

“Until your client was murdered.” Anna spoke as simply as if she’d said it was getting chilly outside. Zora loved the practicality of her parents, who had escaped the former Soviet Union as soon as the Berlin Wall’s collapse had allowed them to. They, too, had seen a lot in their lifetimes when they were still so young. Learning to speak English without much of an accent was the least of their accomplishments.

Zora didn’t believe in coincidence, and the fact that Adam and Anna had become her adoptive parents remained a miracle in her estimation.

“Have they found this Female Preacher Killer, Zora?” Adam buttered a piece of the bread Anna had baked.

“No, not that I know of.” Her parents didn’t know she was working the very same case.

“We’re worried, Zora, that maybe who shot you is somehow connected to what you left behind in New York all those years ago.”

“New York is a crazy place!” Anna chimed in.

“It’s a very large state, Mom. And the city is only part of it. I never lived anywhere near the city.” She turned back to her dad. “No one from that cult knows where I went. My name, my entire identity, was changed. You know that, Dad. How could they find me? Besides, so many of them are gone, either dead or in prison.”

“Some of their prison sentences are up.” Anna voiced the concern she’d mentioned yesterday in front of Bryce.

“I know—you pointed that out yesterday in front of an SVPD detective who knows nothing about it, Mom.”

“Don’t give me that stern tone, Zora. I’m your mother. And Bryce is like my own son. I certainly fed him as much as you while you were growing up.”

“He’s a detective now and he doesn’t know anything about my past. He doesn’t need to.”

“How was I supposed to know you never told him?”

“Mom, I was in the Witness Security Program. None of us were supposed to talk about what we’d been through, ever. You know that. You never mentioned it to his mother, did you?”

“No, of course not. Your soup’s getting cold, honey.” In typical Anna fashion, her mother deflected Zora’s ire and sidestepped her own culpability.

“I noticed a police car at the end of your drive when I came in.” Adam carefully buttered a second slice of the pumpernickel bread, the creamy spread in direct contrast with the rich dark brown grain.

Anna reached out quicker than a viper and slapped Adam’s hand. “Your cholesterol!”

Adam grunted.

“They’re giving me a little extra security, just in case that random shooter thinks of coming back. But he won’t. It was a chance in a million.”

Adam grunted again and Anna crossed herself three times in Orthodox Russian fashion. She’d remained faithful to her beliefs throughout the communist era and occasionally visited an Eastern Orthodox church two hours away in Washington, DC, but they attended a local Roman Catholic church normally, where Zora had gone with them.

“It’s not that dire, Mom. You can relax already.”

“I’ll relax when I’m dead.”

“Mom, you know I hate it when you say that.”

Anna shrugged. “It’s true, right?”

“Enough dark talk. When are you going back to work, Zora?” Adam stood up from the table and started to make tea for all of them.

“I’ll start seeing clients again next week. I thought I’d go out on my own tomorrow.” She’d already cleared her client schedule for a week, as Mark had directed her at the hospital.

“Are you sure?” Anna had been at Zora’s side for the past several days, not wanting Zora to lift or strain herself in any way.

“Yes, Mom. You should go home, too. I’m doing fine. I showered on my own today.”

“You did.”

“And I have Butternut.” She also had several types of weapons available to protect herself from any intruder. Another fact her parents never needed to know about.

Butternut’s tail thumped on the kitchen floor as she sat in her usual dinner spot, far enough away from the dining table so that she wouldn’t get reprimanded for begging, but close enough to dive in if any crumbs fell from the table.

“She’s a good girl, aren’t you, baby?” Anna stood up and placed her soup bowl, still half-full of broth and bits of beef, on the floor in front of the shepherd.

“Mom, I told you to please not feed her people food.” Zora’s tone sounded lame even to her. As if she was going to get up and stop Butternut from enjoying the yummy snack—not.

They all watched Butternut devour the treat with her incredibly long, almost clownish tongue.

“That dog has the life!” Adam chuckled as he brought the mugs of steaming tea to the table. “When we were kids, dogs were lucky to live a few years. This dog will outlive us all.”

“It’s not the USSR, Dad.” Zora still liked teasing her parents, even though she was immensely proud of them for the pioneering spirits they possessed. Not a day went by that she didn’t send up a prayer of gratitude that they’d made it to the States and had been available to nurture her when she’d needed it the most.

She felt a wave of nostalgia and she wanted to blame her healing body, or the coziness of being together with her parents over a bowl of borscht, or setting up the Christmas tree.

But she knew none of that was the reason for her sense of loss. It was the realization of how the time since she’d left Silver Valley could have been spent.

With Bryce.

* * *

“This isn’t as straightforward as I’d like it to be.” Superintendent Todd stood behind his desk with his hands on his hips, a look of frustration stamped on his face.

“Sir, I went over all of the people in the immediate vicinity of Ms. Krasny’s house and they’ve all come out clean.”

“Which leads me to believe that whoever shot her could have been our man. It may have been the man she saw at the football field.”

“I still don’t know how we let him slip away.” Bryce’s gut twisted in knots and he regretted the near miss at the football game. If Zora’s observations were accurate, and he had no reason to think they weren’t, they’d come very close to nabbing the killer at the game.

“There’s something you need to be aware of, Bryce.” At Superintendent Todd’s somber tone, Bryce felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up. Colt Todd was the furthest possible thing from a trauma-drama type. Never an alarmist, he approached operations methodically. This was perhaps his strongest character trait and the one that had gotten him hired as Silver Valley’s police superintendent.

“Sir?”

“As you’ve probably figured out, we occasionally have part-time agents of a sort who help us out with particularly difficult cases, or cases that involve federal jurisdiction.”

“Like Zora Krasny.” Posing as a minister.

“Right.” Superintendent Todd looked as though he was hesitant about what he had to say. Bryce had never seen Todd appear anything but confident.

“You’ve caught their attention, Bryce.”

“Whose attention, sir?”

“The agency I’m talking about. Hell, they’re not even an agency. It’s a contract group, for want of a better term. You need to meet with their CEO later today.”

Bryce felt an automatic resistance to having these sorts of decisions made for him and tried to hide the anger in his voice.

“I have a job, sir. It’s here at SVPD.”

“And that won’t change. But I can’t be the only one to interface with them—if something were to happen to me, or if they needed to pull in a local officer, you’re the best candidate for the job. Just go meet them and decide after that, okay?” Superintendent Todd pulled out his wallet and drew out a business card.