Porter crossed the median, sirens and lights still blazing.
State Patrol cars had blocked entrances to the highway, and soon there was no other traffic, so Bobby floored the accelerator and caught up to the BMW. The BMW swerved through the ramp, hitting two patrol cars. Bobby followed him through the roadblock to a strip mall. The BMW hit the curb and crashed into McDonald’s. Bobby pulled up behind him and jumped out of his car.
Patrons screamed and jumped and out of their seats, crowding toward the kitchen. Bobby pulled Santa out of the vehicle, pushed the man to the floor, straddled him, and pulled his arms back to cuff him.
A little girl pointed at the scene. “Mommy!” she screamed. “The policeman is hurting Santi Claus!”
Bobby pulled the perp to his feet and turned toward the little girl. “This isn’t the real Santa.” He shoved the man toward the patrol car.
The little girl’s mother picked her up. “That’s not the real Santa. He’s a bad man pretending to be Santa. The real Santa is back at home at the North Pole.”
The little girl’s eyes widened as three more patrol cars approached the restaurant, sirens and lights blazing.
Bobby motioned to the officers. “I got this.” He jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Those people need to be interviewed.” He shoved the perp into the backseat.
Saturday, December 29
Arvada, Colorado
After picking up two newspapers from the porch, Eileen Stots used the key to open the front door of Mary Lou’s home. She dropped the papers on the couch and turned on the kitchen lights. She peeked into the master bedroom. Mary Lou obviously packed in a rush. Clothes were strewn about the room, and the bed lay unmade.
Eileen made the bed and started hanging up blouses and pants that had been rejected for the trip. She hummed a Christmas carol as she worked. Poor Mary Lou. I sure hope you get home soon. After tidying up the house and watering the hanging spider plant, she sat on the couch and called Mary Lou’s cell.
“Hullo.” Mary Lou sounded drained.
“Hey, girl. I’m over here cleaning your house—after all, cleanliness is next to godliness. I thought I’d better check it out, since you didn’t get to come home when you expected.”
Mary Lou groaned.
Eileen put her feet up on Mary Lou’s beat-up coffee table. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. Do you have any news about when you can leave?”
“Nothing. I may be here until spring. But I am so glad you called. It’s good to hear a familiar voice. Bobby hasn’t even called.”
“Bobby’s been busy. He’s the local hero, you know.”
“What happened?” Mary Lou asked, voice perking up.
“He caught some guy dressed up as Santa in a high-speed chase. They guy had hijacked a car with a little boy in it, ditched that car, stole another one, and crashed into a McDonald’s out by Denver International Airport.”
“Santa? Christmas is over. Was he high?”
“Don’t know—haven’t got the details. Anyway, Bobby will call when he can. You could call him.”
“I will not do that. I’m not playing the desperate woman. He can call me. I already had to break our date on Christmas Eve. I hope he’s not mad. You know sometimes men can be so sulky.”
Eileen focused on the Monet print on the wall across the room. “Yeah, well, I’ve never seen Bobby Porter sulk. What is your problem?”
“I want to hang up now.”
Eileen shouted into the phone, “Mary Lou, don’t you dare hang up! That’s what you always do when the conversation isn’t going your way. What is the matter with you?”
“Stop yelling! I can hear you. I’m going crazy, that’s what! I am so depressed. This is torture, and nobody cares. Walt got his contract, so he’s happy. He offered to let me use vacation time for the time I’m stranded here. I hate Walt.”
Eileen held the receiver away from her ear, then brought it back to speak softly. “Mary Lou, that’s Walt, and you’ve got to stop hating him. God loves him just as much as He loves you, and you’re supposed to love Walt just like God loves you. Anyway, he can’t take your vacation time today, because it’s Saturday.”
“Love Walt? That will never happen. Is it really Saturday? I thought it was Friday. All I do here is go down to the coffee shop and eat and come back here to my room.”
“Isn’t anyone else there?”
Mary Lou sighed. “Because of the holidays, no. There’s an older couple and the people who work in the coffee shop. They got stranded, too. Thank Heaven they still have food here. I am so tired of bean soup. And it’s cold.”
Eileen sat up straight. “Surely there are some things you can be thankful for.”
“Oh, please. No sermons, now. I can’t handle it. God knows everything, so why am I still here when I want to be home so badly?”
“Aren’t you thankful that you got the contract signed?”
“Of course I am,” Mary Lou said, bristling.
Eileen added, “And you have a nice room.”
Mary Lou countered, “I have a rustic room.”
“Do you have hot water—”
“Okay, okay, I get it. I really do want to hang up now. Bye.”
Sunday, December 30
Zedlav, Alaska
At two o’clock in the morning, Mary Lou woke with a start. Strange colored lights danced on the ceiling. Fear gripped her. Her eyes followed the path to edges around the drapes. She gingerly made her way across the room and peeked outside, not knowing what to expect.
The dark sky blazed with color. She caught her breath and threw the drapes open. Amazing!
After fifteen minutes, she walked backward to sit on the bed and stare out the window in awe at the Northern Lights. This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like this in Denver. Eileen would love this. Wave after wave of color filled the sky. She laid her head on her pillow, all the time keeping her eyes on the window.
And then it was morning.
White light rays pierced the window, and Mary Lou knew she’d slept late. It must be noon. I might as well keep sleeping. There’s nothing to do but wait. But last night was incredible. I’ll never forget what I saw. She reached for her laptop to check her messages.
An email from Larry. “Hey, sis. We just wanted to thank you for the gifts.”
Mary
