Carol J. Post - Bodyguard For Christmas

The ringtone sounded on her phone, and she released it from the clip on her belt. The screen ID’d Burch Security as the caller.

Corine’s Southern twang came through the phone. “I’ve checked out some of the names Mr. Gale gave Gunn. I’m still working on it, but there are two people who match the description of the men who tried to kidnap his son. At least their size. Since they were wearing ski masks, that’s all we’ve got to go on.”

“Who?”

“Richard Perez is the first name Gale gave us. Turns out, he has regular visits from his brothers. Both have records, but they’re out now. The older one is tall and lanky. The younger one is close to the same height but built like an offensive lineman.”

Jasmine nodded. “It fits.”

“Another name Gale gave us is Broderick ‘Ace’ Hoffman, who was released three weeks ago. He’s roughly the same size as the thinner guy. We’re checking out people he’s known to associate with to see if any of them fit the other guy’s description.”

As Corine continued to provide information, Jasmine moved to the back door and peered through the paned glass inset. Finally, the admin fell silent.

“Anyone else?” Corine had given her six possible matches.

“That’s it for now. You know Gale’s wife died of natural causes, right?”

“Yeah, Gunn gave me all the history.”

After ending the call, she glanced through the open doorway to Liam’s room. Keeping track of the boy was the easy part of her assignment. He wasn’t a typical preschooler, with boundless energy and a touch of mischievousness. Instead, he seemed perfectly content to play quietly on the floor.

He was also spending his days in preschool. Colton had enrolled him yesterday, after securing his former job with the district attorney’s office for Cherokee County. He’d given her two reasons for the preschool decision. One, he hadn’t hired her to be a babysitter. She couldn’t agree more.

Two, he didn’t want his son spending so much time with her that he’d get attached. More good thinking. Liam’s mother was no longer in the picture, and he wasn’t handling it well.

She’d abide by Colton’s wishes and not let Liam get attached to her. But the sad little boy she’d been charged with protecting stirred something in her. Twenty-five years ago, that had been her—quiet, withdrawn, tormented by nightmares. Unlike Liam, she’d had a mother throughout most of her childhood. And her mother loved her. She’d just been too young and dysfunctional to know how to raise a child.

Jasmine leaned against Liam’s doorjamb, and his eyes met hers. He sat amid a sea of Legos, an almost completed rectangular object in front of him.

She stepped into the room. “What are you building?”

He lowered his gaze and searched through the pieces until he found a truss-shaped one, then snapped it onto an end.

“Are you building a house?”

Liam continued his project without making eye contact again. She turned to leave the room. She’d never been good at one-sided conversations.

At the door, she hesitated. A chest of drawers sat to its right, a framed eight-by-ten photograph on top. She’d noticed it there before but hadn’t taken the time to look at it closely. Now she took the frame down and held it in front of her.

It was one of those studio portraits, with a Christmas background. Colton sat on a stool. A woman was nestled in front of him, Liam on her lap. Colton’s wife. Her hair was a medium brown, the same color as her eyes. Though she wore makeup, it was understated. There was nothing striking about her individual features.

But she was gorgeous. She radiated warmth and friendliness, her easy smile an outward expression of inner joy. If one could deduce personality from a photograph, Mandy Gale was the type of person every woman wanted to have as a best friend. The world had lost someone special.

A key rattled in the front door lock and she set the frame back on the dresser feeling as if she’d almost been caught eavesdropping. Colton was home, with dinner. He’d called forty minutes ago to take her order.

She stepped into the kitchen as the door swung open. Colton held up two plastic bags. “Chinese takeout. Courtesy of China Town Buffet.”

She drew in a fragrant breath. “Smells wonderful.”

Colton carried the bags to the kitchen table. “How did everything go today?”

“Fine.” He wasn’t asking about her day. He was asking about Liam’s. Colton Gale wasn’t a man for small talk. “When I took him to day care, he went from me to his teacher without any fuss.”

“Good.”

He disappeared through the door behind him, then returned a minute later, holding Liam. By the time he had him strapped in to his high chair, she’d filled two water glasses and put milk in a sippy cup.

He removed the foam containers from the plastic bags. “I’m guessing there weren’t any threats.”

“No. Just like yesterday.”

“Good.”

He’d wanted her close but not conspicuous. Although he’d explained the situation to the owner of the day care, he didn’t want to alarm the workers or the other parents. So she’d parked a short distance down the road and watched the activity through binoculars.

After laying a cellophane-wrapped package of plastic silverware at each place, Colton sat adjacent to his son at the four-person table, and Jasmine took the chair opposite Colton. Pleasant aromas wafted up from the container in front of her, and her stomach rumbled.

But she waited. She’d learned her first night there that the Gales never ate without saying grace.

Colton took his son’s hand, then hers. The first time, he’d asked if she minded. She’d said no. Praying before meals was a sweet tradition.

When he bowed his head and began to pray, even Liam closed his eyes. Jasmine did, too, but only out of respect for the man sitting across from her. The God Colton worshipped was one she didn’t like very much—an ever-present, all-powerful God who saw the suffering in the world but chose to ignore it. It was much less disturbing to imagine a distant God who set everything in motion, then turned His back to let nature take its course.

For the fourth night in a row, she listened to Colton thank God for His protection over them. She was the one providing the protection, but whatever.

When he finished his prayer, he tore into the cellophane package that held his plastic silverware and napkin. “I called a fencing contractor at lunchtime. I’m meeting him here at noon tomorrow.”

“Good.” The backyard was fenced, and that was currently where Brutus was. But the entire front was unguarded.

Colton continued in his professional no-nonsense tone. “They’ll connect to the existing fence and take it all the way to the road. They told me if I go ahead with the contract tomorrow, they’ll do the work this weekend.”

“Good. Brutus is our first line of defense. It’s best if he can access the entire yard.”

Colton turned his attention to eating, all topics of business thoroughly covered. But the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Though they were all living under the same roof, Colton was keeping that professional distance.

That was fine with her. She wasn’t any more interested in a relationship than he was. When the sting of her latest disaster finally faded and she was ready to put herself out there again, it certainly wouldn’t be for a man who was still grieving the loss of his wife.

Frenzied barking from outside sent her into fight mode, and she sprang to her feet. From what she’d gathered, the dog didn’t bark unless he had a reason to. Colton’s clenched jaw and the lines of worry around his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

She retrieved a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and reached the back door the same time he did. He planted his hand against it, his other arm extended palm up for the flashlight. “I’ll check it out.”