think we could’ve planned this one better, that’s all.”
Jake sighed, a half moan that sounded like raw pain. “Just like a woman,” he gasped. “Always got twenty-twenty hindsight, always gotta process the problems in the relationship.”
I looked out in front of us, squinting as the cold night air hit my eyes.
“No, this is not about twenty-twenty hindsight,” I said. “It is about you letting the damn gate swing shut because you were in too much of a hurry to check behind yourself. Admit it, you were in a big hurry to score Santa and you let the gate swing shut!”
“It was wide open,” Jake protested, starting to sound like a querulous child. “I knew we’d be leaving in a hurry. Remember? We disabled it.”
I stared at the eight-foot wrought-iron fence up ahead. It was closed and locked. I took a deep breath.
“Well, it’s shut now,” I said. “Hold on!”
I punched the accelerator and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
“Don’t hurt my truck!” Jake yelled. “It’s all I got left of the shop!”
I ignored him. Jake’s truck was dispensable, we were not. His shop might’ve been blown to bits by a maniac, and he might love his truck, but I had to believe our lives were worth a lot more.
“Stella!”
We hit the fence dead-on. The shock of the impact threw me against the steering wheel and wedged Jake tighter beneath the glove compartment. The F–350 bent the metal bars like green tree limbs, but they refused to break. I shook the impact off, fastened my seat belt and shot a look in the rearview mirror as I backed up and got ready to try again. The headlights were gaining on us.
“Stella, no!” Jake screamed.
I ignored him and yelled. “Brace yourself!”
I mashed the accelerator pedal to the floor, held my left foot on the brake and then, just as I felt certain the engine would blow, released the brake pedal. We slammed into the fence, the lock gave, and we were through.
“My truck!” Jake moaned.
“Your ass,” I said, wincing as I tried to turn my neck and look into the rearview mirror. “I saved your ass and all you can think about is a few cosmetic repairs to your grillwork?”
I heard gunfire behind us, close behind us, and saw Joey Smack’s people on our tail.
“You still got your gun?” I asked.
Jake pulled himself up onto the front seat, SIG-Sauer in hand, panting with the pain and exertion.
“Out the back window,” I said.
Another gunshot and the left rearview mirror bit the dust.
“Goddamnit! That does it!” Jake cried. He sprang up, aimed, and then lowered the pistol. “I can’t see a fucking thing! The damn sleigh’s in the way. I can’t get a shot off.”
I veered left, then right, hoping to keep the car from pulling up alongside us. I looked in the rearview mirror again just as Santa took matters into his own hands. As I watched, the robotic Santa seemed to sway, his arms spinning wildly as he careened out of the sleigh and almost toppled off the back of the flatbed. He lay like a swimmer, poised to dive, wobbling.
“Jake?”
“What now?”
“You didn’t have time to tie Santa down, did you?”
Jake rose to look out the back window frame.
Santa began to move, sailing off the flatbed in slow-motion perfection, and crashing down onto the hood of our pursuers. There was a loud sound of tires screeching. The car bobbled across the highway and off into the woods. The last image I had was of a black sedan crashing into a tree and exploding into a fireball.
“Damn!” Jake murmured. “I think they’re dead.”
I ignored him and drove. There was nothing I could do about that right now. Saving our lives and taking care of Jake was my only focus. I had no idea how badly he’d been wounded. My chest hurt with the effort to keep from screaming. I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider the possibility of Jake’s injuries being life-threatening. I couldn’t go there and still function. It was all business or Stella blows a gasket, and I just couldn’t afford the luxury of emotion. I had to make sure Jake was safe and on the mend before I gave in to my feelings.
Along the way to the hospital we lost a couple of reindeer, but considering we’d managed to survive, I viewed the loss more as casualties of war and not shrinkage of the merchandise. I planned to charge Lifetime Novelty a hazard fee, too, for pain and suffering. By the time we actually reached the medical center, I’d managed to parlay our near disaster into a right hefty invoice, due upon receipt.
“You know,” I said as we pulled up to the emergency-room loading dock, “it wasn’t such a bad night after all! We got what we came for, nobody on our team died and we’re going to make a lot of money!”
When Jake didn’t answer, I turned to look at him. He was slumped against the passenger-side window, unconscious.
Chapter 2
Eventually, the entire team assembled in the emergency-room waiting area. I call us a team, but that’s really for lack of a better term. A few months ago, after my career and love life went ka-plooie in one short night, I’d returned home to my old hometown, hoping to lick my wounds and regroup. What’s that old saying? We make plans and God laughs? Three months later I was still here, only now I was in business with most of my extended family and a man who’d once left me standing at the altar.
If I’d seen another option, believe me, I would’ve hopped on it like ugly on an ape, but my uncle was dead, my aunt needed me, and my cousin was too much of a fruitcake to hold down a regular nine-to-five job. Besides, she was in love with the former assistant D.A. for Chester County. That kind of hookup comes in real handy when you’re starting a one-stop-does-it-all private investigation agency.
Jake won his ticket into the deal by helping me find my uncle’s killer. My aunt was along for the ride because she is one of our country’s brightest chemists, and because of that, she requires almost constant protection. Where better place to be protected than in an agency specializing in detection, protection and repossession?
So when Jake got shot, it was only natural that they all showed up to show their support. We might not have a plan, and on any given day one or more of us has at least one screw loose, but we are loyal, and my aunt loves Jake for reasons I may never really understand. There was no stopping them from coming, and to tell the truth, I was relieved. I looked around the waiting room, saw them sitting there, and felt somehow better about everything, even Jake.
My aunt Lucy, her gray hair still in pink rollers, her butterball body encased in a solid black dress with black sensible shoes, sat next to my bizarre cousin, Nina. My aunt was frowning and clutching her black purse to her ample bosom.
Nina, despite the early hour, looked the same as she always did, disheveled. She sat next to Spike Montgomery, Chester County’s former assistant
