Her Mistletoe Protector

“Getting something to eat.” Nick didn’t want to say too much. “We also have a possible suspect in Frankie Caruso, who happens to be Anthony Caruso’s uncle. Ms. Simon is convinced that Frankie is back to take over the Mafia.”

“What do you think?” Walsh asked.

“I think she could be right. You might want to see what you can find out about Caruso’s activities. In the meantime, we’ll start looking for leads related to Ricky Morales.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He could hear his boss scribbling notes. “Good work so far, Butler. Keep in touch.”

“I will.” Nick disconnected from the call and stared at his phone for a moment. He debated searching for Morales right now, but then decided he needed to get back to the motel. At least he had some positive news to give Rachel.

The drive didn’t take long. He grabbed the clothes and the bag of food, his mouth watering at the aroma of burgers and fries, and swiped his key card. The moment he closed the motel door behind him, he heard Rachel knocking on the connecting door.

“Coming,” he called as he reached for the door. He smiled at her. “Don’t argue, but I brought food for the both of us.”

“There’s no time to eat,” Rachel said in a rush. “Look what I’ve discovered.” She gestured to the computer screen. “Margie Caruso, Frankie’s ex-wife still lives outside of Chicago. We have to get over there right away.”

Her excitement was palpable. “Good news, but I have something to follow up on, too.” He pushed the laptop out of the way so he could haul the food out of the bag. “I’ll search while we eat.”

Rachel frowned, but he noticed she was staring at the burgers and fries as if her appetite may have returned. He bowed his head and gave a quick prayer of thanks. Rachel didn’t say anything, respecting his silent prayer, until he finished and dug into his food. “What are you following up on?” she asked.

“Sit down and eat,” he suggested.

She grimaced, but came over to sit beside him. As if she couldn’t help herself, she popped a French fry into her mouth. He waited until she surrendered to her inevitable hunger by unwrapping the second sandwich and taking a bite before telling her what his boss had uncovered.

“You think this Ricky Morales is the guy who kidnapped Joey?” she asked, her green eyes filled with hope. “I mean, that seems to be the most logical conclusion. And we should be able to find him, right?”

He nodded, even though he knew tracking Morales down wouldn’t be quite that easy. As he ate, he pulled up his email and jotted down the information his boss had sent. “Here’s his last-known address. It’s on the opposite side of town from Margie Caruso’s place.”

“It’s only eight-thirty...there’s plenty of time yet to head over to see what we can find. I need to keep busy, searching for Joey We have to find him as soon as possible!”

“We’ll check both addresses out tonight,” he assured her.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He shook his head, not wanting her gratitude. He was beginning to identify with Rachel on a personal level. Her fear tugged at his heart. He knew, only too well, what she was going through. Those hours his wife and daughter were missing had been the longest, darkest hours of his life. And when the news came in that they were both found dead in their mangled SUV at the bottom of a ravine, his grief had been overwhelming. Without his faith, he never would have survived the dark days following their deaths.

Grimly, he hoped and prayed that Rachel’s outcome would be different. Please, Lord, keep Joey safe in Your care and guide us in finding him. Amen.

* * *

Rachel pushed away her half-eaten sandwich and the remaining cold French fries, her patience wearing thin. She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting here another minute. If she didn’t take some sort of action to help find her son, she’d go stark, raving mad.

She tapped her fingers impatiently on the table, as Nick finished his meal. “I bought a dark sweatshirt for you, since that pink one is too easily seen at night, and a new pair of athletic shoes,” he said between bites. “Also hats and gloves. Why don’t you change while I finish up?”

“Okay, thanks,” she said, reaching down for the bag of clothes. The shoes were a welcome sight, and while she loved her pink sweatshirt, she realized Nick was right about how it stood out. The black sweatshirt beneath her jacket would blend far better with the night.