Debbie Macomber - 1225 Christmas Tree Lane

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Sheriff Davis inserted.

Linc reached for his cell phone and called home. Five long rings later, voice mail kicked in. If his sister had gone back to Seattle, she apparently wasn’t at the house.

“She’s not there,” Linc informed his brothers.

“What did I tell you?” Ned sighed. “I know Mary Jo, and she isn’t going to turn tail after one setback.”

This was more than a simple setback, in Linc’s opinion. This was major.

“Have you tried her cell phone?” the sheriff suggested next.

“Yeah, we did. A few times. No answer,” Linc said tersely.

“Try again.”

“I’ll do that now,” Linc murmured. He reached for his phone again and realized he didn’t know her number nor had he programmed it into his directory.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, Ned, could you give me the number for her cell?”

His youngest brother grabbed the phone from him and punched in Mary Jo’s number, then handed it back.

Linc waited impatiently for the call to connect. After what seemed like minutes, the phone automatically went to voice mail. “She’s not answering that, either.”

“Maybe her cell battery’s dead,” the sheriff said. “It could be she’s out of range, too.”

Actually, Linc was curious as to why the sheriff himself had responded to dispatch. One would think the man had better things to do—like dealing with real crime or spending the evening with his family. “Listen, Sheriff, is Cedar Cove so hard up for crime that the sheriff responds personally to a possible break-in?”

Troy Davis grinned. “I was on my way to my daughter’s house for dinner when I heard the call.”

“So you decided to check us out.”

“Something like that.”

Linc liked the sheriff. He seemed a levelheaded guy, whereas his deputies were a pair of overzealous new-bies, hoping for a bit of excitement. He’d bet they were bored out of their minds in a quiet little town like Cedar Cove. The call about this supposed break-in had sent these two into a giddy state of importance.

“The only essential thing here is finding our sister,” Linc reiterated to the sheriff.

“The problem is, we don’t know where to find her,” Ned put in.

The sheriff rubbed the side of his face. “Did you ask around town?”

No one at the pub had been able to help. “Not really. We asked the guys at some tavern, but they didn’t seem aware of much except how full their glasses were.”

The sheriff grinned and seemed to appreciate Linc’s wry sense of humor.

“She’s very pregnant,” Ned felt obliged to remind everyone. “It isn’t like someone wouldn’t notice her.”

“Yeah.” Mel once more thrust his arms out in front of him and bloated his cheeks for emphasis.

Linc rolled his eyes.

“Wait,” Deputy Pierpont said thoughtfully. “Seems to me I heard something about a pregnant woman earlier.”

That got Linc’s attention. “Where?” he asked urgently. “When?”

“I got a friend who’s a firefighter and he mentioned it.”

“What did he say?”

Deputy Pierpont shrugged. “Don’t remember. His name’s Hutton. You could go to the fire station and ask.”

“Will do.” Linc stepped forward and shook hands with the sheriff and then, for good measure and goodwill, with each of the deputies. “Thanks for all your help.”

Troy Davis nodded. “You tell your sister she shouldn’t have worried you like this.”

“Oh, I’ll tell her,” Linc promised. He had quite a few other things he intended to say to her, too.

After receiving directions to the fire station, they jumped back in the truck. Finally they were getting somewhere, Linc told himself with a feeling of satisfaction. It was just a matter of time before they caught up with her.

It didn’t take them long to locate the fire station.

Rather than repeat their earlier mistakes—or what Linc considered mistakes—he said, “Let me do the talking, understand?”

“Okay,” Ned agreed quickly enough.

“Mel?”

“Oh, all right.”

They walked into the station house and asked to speak to the duty chief. The man eyed them cautiously.

Linc got immediately to the point. “I understand that earlier today you responded to an incident involving a young pregnant woman. A firefighter named Hutton was mentioned in connection with this call. Is that correct?”

When the chief didn’t reply, Linc added, “If so, we believe that’s our sister.”

The man raised his eyebrows, as if determined not to give out any information.

“She needs her family, chief.”

There must’ve been some emotion in Linc’s voice, some emotion he didn’t even know he’d revealed, because the man hesitated, then excused himself. He returned a few minutes later, followed by a second man.

“This is Mack McAfee. He’s the EMT who responded to the call.”

“You saw Mary Jo?” Linc asked. He extended his hand, and Mack shook it in a friendly fashion.

“I did.”

Linc’s relief was so great he nearly collapsed into a nearby chair. “That’s great!”

“She’s okay, isn’t she?” Ned blurted out. “She hasn’t gone into labor or anything?”

“No, no, she had a dizzy spell.”

“Dizzy?” Linc repeated slowly and cast a startled look at his brothers.

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Mel asked.

Linc felt sick to his stomach. “I was twelve when Mary Jo was born and I remember it like it was yesterday. Mom got real dizzy that morning and by noon Mary Jo had arrived.”

“That’s not generally a sign of oncoming labor,” Mack reassured him.

“It is in our family. Dad told me it was that way with each and every pregnancy. According to him, Mom had very quick deliveries and they all started with a dizzy spell. He barely made it to the hospital in time with Mary Jo. In fact—”

“She was born while Dad parked the car,” Mel said.

“He dropped Mom off at the emergency door and then he went to look for a parking space.”

That tale had been told around the kitchen table for years. Once their father had parked the car and made his way back to the hospital, he was met by the doctor, who congratulated him on the birth of his baby girl.

“Do you know where she is?” Linc asked with renewed urgency.

“You might talk to Grace Harding,” Mack said.

“Who’s Grace Harding?”

“The librarian.” Mack paused for a moment. “Mary Jo was at the library when I treated her.”

“The library?” That didn’t make any sense to Linc. Why had Mary Jo gone to the library?

“What was she doing there?” Mel asked.

“That isn’t as important as where she is now,” Linc said. “Mack, do you have any idea where she might’ve gone after she left the library?” He remembered seeing it earlier. The building with the mural.

Mack shook his head. “She didn’t say, although I told her to put her feet up and rest for a few hours.”

“She must’ve gotten a hotel room.” They should have realized that earlier. Of course! If Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes were out of town, that was exactly what Mary Jo would have done.

“I don’t think so,” Mack said. “I thought I’d check on her myself and discovered she isn’t at any of the motels in town.”

“Why not?”

“No rooms available.”

“Where would she go?”

“My guess,” Mack said slowly, “is to Grace Harding’s house.”

“Why her place?”

“Because it seems like the kind of thing Mrs. Harding would do. I have the Hardings’ phone number. I could call if you’d like.”

Linc couldn’t believe their good fortune. “Please.”

The firefighter was gone for what seemed like a long time. He returned wearing a grin. “You can talk to her yourself if you want.”