Yuletide Defender

“I—I’m doing my job. I was following a lead for a story. I just wanted to see what I could find out,” Rachel said.

Matt’s heart beat faster with each word she spoke. He raked his hand through his hair and stared at her. “You should’ve called me right away and told me about this. I warned you about the danger. Whoever shot these guys was shooting at you, too.”

Even in the dim light he could see the fear that flashed in her eyes before she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “He was firing at you, too,” she said.

“His aim would’ve been better if he’d intended to hit me.”

Rachel nodded. “He probably could have hit me, too, if he’d really wanted to kill me. Why do you think he did that?”

Matt shrugged. “Probably just wanted to scare us.”

Well, the shooter had accomplished that much.

SANDRA ROBBINS,

a former teacher and principal in the Tennessee public schools, is a full-time writer for the Christian market. She is married to her college sweetheart, and they have four children and five grandchildren. As a child, Sandra accepted Jesus as her Savior and has depended on Him to guide her throughout her life.

While working as a principal, Sandra came in contact with many individuals who were so burdened with problems that they found it difficult to function in their everyday lives. Her writing ministry grew out of the need for hope that she saw in the lives of those around her.

It is her prayer that God will use her words to plant seeds of hope in the lives of her readers. Her greatest desire is that many will come to know the peace she draws from her life verse, Isaiah 40:31— “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles, they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”

Yuletide Defender

Sandra Robbins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

And they that know thy name will put their trust in thee: for thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek thee.

—Psalms 9:10

To Kristi, Marti, Stacey and Scott

The joy you bring me makes every day seem like Christmas.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Arriving at a murder scene before breakfast wasn’t Rachel Long’s idea of a good way to start the day.

She leaned against the lamppost at the corner of Ninth and Perkins and pulled her coat tighter. The December wind that whistled around the deserted storefronts and run-down apartment buildings lining the street sent a shiver down her spine. Unlike other neighborhoods in Lake City, there were no holiday decorations anywhere in sight. In fact, nothing about her surroundings gave a hint that Christmas was only a few weeks away.

A young man’s lifeless body sprawled twenty feet away spoke volumes about what life was like in this part of the city. Several uniformed policemen stood to the side as crime scene investigators gathered their evidence.

Her stomach rumbled and she pressed her hand against her abdomen to suppress the hunger pains. Coffee would have to come later. As chief investigative reporter for the Lake City Daily Beacon, her job was to cover the news.

One of the policemen backed away, and Rachel caught sight of the victim’s leg twisted underneath him. She made a quick note in her journal of his white canvas tennis shoe with a five-pointed star on the side—one of the identifying marks of the Vipers, the gang that boasted control of this neighborhood.

She pursed her lips and tried to mentally recall how many gang-related deaths she’d reported in the past two months. Four? No, five. This one made the sixth victim.

A car pulled to a stop across the street and Detective Matt Franklin stepped out from the driver’s side. He tugged at the cuffs of a white shirt and they slipped over his wrists from underneath the sleeves of his navy blazer. Even this early in the morning he looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine spread. The wind ruffled his brown hair. He smoothed it into place as he waited for the man who climbed from the passenger side of the car.

“Matt,” Rachel called out.

He stopped in the middle of the street and glanced around. Catching sight of her, he turned and walked toward her. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile. He stopped in front of her and tilted his head to one side. “Rachel, how did you find out about this so quickly?”

“My scanner.” She glanced toward the group examining the body. “Another gang killing?”

He sighed and nodded. “Looks like it.”

“I noticed the boy’s tennis shoes. He’s a member of the Vipers. Do you think this is the work of the Rangers?”

Matt shrugged. “It’s too early to know. Some in the department think the Vipers from the north side of the city and the Rangers from the south have decided to declare open war on each other. But so far neither gang is talking.”

“May I quote you on that?”

“You probably would even if I said no.” His mouth curved into the lopsided smile she’d first noticed when they met two months ago at the scene of the first gang member’s death.

Rachel closed the notebook she held and dropped her pen into her bag. “When I was growing up, I never thought we’d someday have two gangs in a town this size. They were in urban areas like New York and Los Angeles, not in a small city in the heart of Illinois.”

Matt nodded. “No town, no matter how small, is safe from the threat of gangs. Pressure from large-city police departments is forcing many gang members from the cities into more rural areas. Once there, they recruit locals into the groups. It’s a growing problem all across the country.”

Rachel glanced back at the body down the street. “So now we have six kids dead. Three Rangers and three Vipers. And because of what? Their neighborhoods aren’t any better because they died. In fact, now it’s worse for the people who live there and want to raise their children in a safe environment.” She shook her head. “What a waste.”

Matt regarded her with a steady gaze. “I didn’t realize you had such strong feelings about the fate of these kids.”

Her eyes grew wide. “Of course I do. Most of them don’t have a chance of escaping their lives of poverty. They’re looking to neighborhood gangs to save them and instead they’re ending up dead.”

Matt’s gaze flitted across her face for a moment before he responded. “Once they take that step into the gang life, though, they’re also dangerous. When I saw you standing over here, I thought it might be a good time to give you a friendly warning. You’ve written some hard-hitting articles in the past few weeks since this string of killings started. I’d hate to see you anger the wrong people.”

She shrugged. “I don’t make the news. I only report it.”

Matt nodded. “I know. And I don’t make the crimes. I only try to solve them. All I’m saying is just don’t get in over your head.”

Rachel smiled. “It’s nice of you to worry about my safety, but I don’t think I’ll have any problems. The gang members only know me as a name in the newspaper. I doubt if they even care what I think.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know about that. Your picture is right beside your byline. Someone wanting to find you wouldn’t have to look far.”

Rachel had never thought of that, and her skin tingled with a rush of fear. “Don’t try to scare me, Matt. I can’t back off my job. Good reporters follow the facts and print them.”

Matt’s dark eyes clouded. “I know what these gangs are like, Rachel. I deal with them on a daily basis. As a friend, I thought I should warn you. Just be careful.”

She nodded. “I will be. And don’t forget to read my story.” She glanced around at the local residents, some in their pajamas and robes, standing along the sidewalk. “I think I’ll try to get some quotes from a few of the people who live around here. Of course they’ll refuse to give their names, but you can’t blame them. They’re afraid of retaliation from the people who control their streets.”

“We run into that problem all the time. It sure makes catching a killer harder.” Matt glanced over his shoulder at the crime scene. “Well, I’d better get busy. I just wanted to pass along my concern.” He turned to leave but then he faced her again. “By the way, I saw you at church last Sunday with your friend Mindy. You left before I could speak to you.”

Rachel smiled at how surprised she’d been to see Matt there. That day he was dressed in jeans and a knit shirt as he played the drums in the praise band for the worship service. He’d looked so relaxed and completely absorbed in the music. Today he was every inch the professional policeman.

“Mindy has been after me to go with her, so I did.”

“Maybe you’d like to come to our Singles Bible Study. We meet tonight.”

She shrugged. “Maybe. If I have time. My job keeps me busy.”

He looked back at the crime scene. “Mine does, too. I’d better get to work. See you later.”

Rachel watched as Matt jogged back to the officers still beside the body. She’d liked Matt the first time they’d met. Perhaps it was the sorrow she saw in his eyes as he gazed down at the young victim who’d died alone on a dark street. And now a sixth person had also met his end.

She turned her attention to the small crowd of onlookers who’d gathered in front of an apartment building across the street. At the edge of the cluster of residents, a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties gripped the hand of a young boy beside her.

As Rachel watched, the woman spoke to the boy who stared into her face. The child didn’t move as the woman accented her words with gestures toward the body across the street.

Fascinated by the exchange between the two, Rachel ambled toward them until she stood in front of the woman. She smiled. “Good morning, my name is Rachel Long. I’m a reporter for the Lake City Daily Beacon, and I noticed you standing here. I wondered if I might speak with you.”

Suspicion flashed in the woman’s eyes and she gripped the boy’s hand tighter. “What about?”

Rachel glanced at the boy. “Is this your son?”

The woman straightened her shoulders. “Yes.”

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were talking to him as if you really wanted to impress something on him. It reminded me of how my mother used to talk with me.”

The woman pointed across the street. “I was tellin’ him that he’s all I got in this world, and I don’t aim to see him end up dead on no street corner. That’s what gangs do for you. Promise all kinds of things but they ain’t true.”

Rachel nodded. “You’re a very wise woman. I know it isn’t easy living in a neighborhood where gangs roam the streets.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide and her mouth pulled into a grim line. “Easy? There ain’t nothing easy ’bout life around here, and these hoodlums with their drugs and guns just make it harder for folks like us who workin’ to get by.”

“Do you have something you’d like to say to the people of Lake City or to the police about what the gangs are doing to our city?”

She started to speak but stopped. Fear flashed in her eyes. “You ain’t gonna use my name or tell where I live, are you?”

Rachel shook her head. “I’ll just quote you as a concerned mother.”

“Well, then I guess I’d say to the folks who live in the nice neighborhoods, you ain’t got no idea what it’s like to be afraid of where you live. My son can’t play outside ’cause I’m scared a stray bullet gonna hit him. We don’t get out after dark, just stay inside with all the curtains pulled. And we stay away from the windows. I can’t afford to move nowhere else, so I’m stuck here. When is somebody gonna help us clean up the filth that’s turned what used to be a good neighborhood into a battlefield?”

Rachel had promised herself when she became a reporter that she would keep her personal feelings under control when she was interviewing someone. The anguish in this mother’s eyes, though, made her forget that intention.

Her heart pricked at the predicament of this woman and her child. She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and smiled down at the boy. “You have a smart mama. Do what she says and stay safe.”

The boy’s somber brown eyes stared at her. “I will.”

The mother pulled her son closer. “You gonna write how bad it is down here?”

“I am.” She reached out and squeezed the woman’s hand that rested on her son’s shoulder. “I’ll be thinking of you.”

With a sigh she headed back across the street. She saw Matt bending over the victim. He straightened and smiled when he saw her. They stared at each other for a moment before they both waved, and Rachel turned down the street to the spot where she’d parked.

When she climbed into her car and cranked the engine, she held her breath. To her relief, the motor purred to life. She really had to do something about a car soon. Hers had already exceeded its life expectancy by a few years. Maybe by this time next year she’d be driving a new vehicle. The Beacon was just the first step to success. If things went as planned, this job would be her springboard to a larger newspaper or even a television station. And stories of rival gangs killing each other just might be the ticket to jump-start the journey.

Rachel thought again of the mother’s fear for her son. Her own mother had dealt with many problems in raising Rachel and her sister, but gangs weren’t something they had to worry about. She couldn’t imagine what life must be like for that woman and her son. Maybe if she dug deeper into the killings, she would find something to help the police.

Matt’s warning drifted through her mind but she shook it away. There were reasons why she wanted to succeed at her job. No, had to succeed. She only had one choice—to go anywhere and talk to anybody to get the story she needed.

Rachel stared at the computer screen and scanned the article she’d just written once more before sending it to the copy editor. “It seems almost like a rewrite of the other murders,” she grumbled aloud.

She leaned back in her chair and tapped the desktop with a pencil. The police might believe gang violence was the reason for the similar killings, but according to what Matt had told her they still couldn’t be sure. With no clues left behind, the police didn’t appear to know where to turn. Gang members weren’t talking, and most residents who lived in the neighborhoods controlled by the groups were too afraid to tell what they knew.

Somebody in Lake City knew what was going on with these killings but so far no one had come forward. She reread the last two lines of the article she’d just completed. “It’s time for every resident of Lake City to say, ‘We will not stand quietly by and let the gangs destroy us.’ Only by joining forces can we safeguard the future and provide a secure way of life for our children and those who will come after us.”

Whether or not her call for unity would work, she didn’t know. All she could do was try to rally the citizens to fight what was happening around them. She sighed and, with a click of the mouse, sent the story on its way to the copy editor.

She picked up her coffee cup and took a drink just as the phone rang. Setting the cup back on the desk, she wedged the receiver between her ear and shoulder. “Rachel Long. May I help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I can help you.” Rachel’s eyes widened at the curtness in the man’s voice. This was no friendly call. She pushed her cup away, reached for a pencil and slid her notepad across her desk.

“Help me with what?”

“I been reading your stories in the paper.”

Rachel took a deep breath to still her thudding heart. “Which ones?”

“The gang murders.”

Rachel’s fingers flexed and gripped the pencil tighter. “I’m glad. We always like to hear from our readers.”

“I ain’t calling to brag on your writing. I gots a story I want to talk about.”

She poised the pencil above the pad. “And what’s your name?”

A low laugh came over the phone. “That don’t matter. Let’s just say I’m a confidential source. Okay?”

Rachel could almost hear her heart pounding. “That depends on what you have to tell me.”

“Oh, you gonna like this. ’Cause I got a story that’ll rock this city.”

“I’ll have to be the judge of that. Now tell me what you’ve got.”

“No way. You ain’t gittin’ this information over the phone. You gonna have to meet me in person.”

The sinister tone of the man’s voice sent chills down her spine. Matt’s warning flashed into her mind. Could this be a gang member? If so, she could be walking straight into trouble if she agreed to meet him.

On the other hand, if she didn’t meet him, she might be giving up the chance at the break she’d been waiting for. A huge story could get her name out there to influential people in the industry. When she weighed the pros and cons of the situation, she knew it was a no-brainer. She hesitated only a moment before she answered.

“Okay, where do you want me to meet you?”

“You know the City Park out on Highway 45?”

“Yes.”

“Meet me there at midnight. Go to the picnic tables by the lake and sit on the bench right next to the woods. And come alone. Understand?”

Rachel swallowed. “Yes.”

The caller disconnected with a click. Rachel replaced the phone and stared into space. Somehow she’d known since the first murder that this was the story she’d been waiting for—one that would set her apart as an investigative reporter. And one that would prove she was unafraid to pursue truth, no matter where it took her.

Dangerous or not, she had to go. This could be just what she’d been waiting for—her big break. Or it might be more—the tragic end of a promising career.

The bells in the pavilion tower across the lake chimed the midnight hour as Rachel climbed from the car. The familiar landscape looked very different than it did in the daytime, when families played together in the wide expanse. Rachel shivered at the stillness that enveloped her.

The distant rumble of thunder broke the silence. She glanced up at dark clouds rolling across the sky. The moon disappeared behind a cloud and the darkness deepened. The streetlamps around the lake cast a soft glow of light on the jogging trail that circled it. Tonight, however, there were no runners. She was alone.

She studied the park benches that dotted the grassy area in back of the picnic tables, then trudged toward them and scanned the dark forest beyond for signs of movement. Seeing nothing, she eased onto the bench where he’d instructed her to sit.

The leaves on the trees behind her rustled and she tensed. Was there someone there? She tilted her head to the side and listened. An owl hooted and she shivered.

How long should she give him to show up? She hugged her coat tighter and knew she’d stay until sunrise if she had to.

“Don’t turn around.”

She gasped in surprise as fingers clamped down on her shoulder. Fear oozed through her body and left a blanket of ice in its wake. “W-who a-are y-you?”

“Don’t make no difference what my name is.” His warm breath fanned the back of her neck.

Rachel struggled to breathe. “Then what shall I call you?”

“Like I said, just say I’m your confidential source.” He paused for a moment before he continued, “I been readin’ your stories ’bout gang members being killed. You done a good job reportin’ the facts.”

“Do you have some additional information for me?”

“Maybe.” His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Let’s see now, in that last story, how many you say died?”

When Rachel didn’t answer, his index finger jabbed her. She gulped a big breath of air and sat up straighter. “Five before today. Now there’s six. All of them shot to death. The police think rival gangs are killing each other.”

The man behind her exhaled a long breath. “The popo don’t know nothing.”

Rachel frowned and tilted her head. “You mean the police?”

“Yeah.”

“What makes you think that”

“It ain’t what I think. It’s what I know.” His lips grazed her ear.

His nicotine-scented breath filled her nostrils and she turned her head away. “And what’s that?” Rachel asked.

“They’s two gangs here in Lake City, the Vipers and the Rangers. The Vipers, them are my brothers. We take care of our hood. The Rangers, they on the south side of town, and we don’t mess with them.”

Rachel started to say she knew how the Vipers took care of their neighborhood—drugs, shootings, robberies—but reason told her not to anger him. “I know about the two.”

“If they found out I was talkin’ to you, I’d be dusted by mornin’.” A trace of fear trembled through the man’s words.

“Your friends would kill you? Why?”

A small groan came from behind her. “We ain’t ’posed to talk to nobody ’bout gang business.”

“Oh.”

“The popo think the gangs be fightin’ each other in a war. That ain’t true, but I ’spect somebody wants to start one.” He paused for a moment and Rachel tensed, wondering if he expected her to say something. When she remained silent, he continued, “You ’member the last murder two weeks ago? The Viper that was killed in front of that pizza place on First Street?”

“Yes, I wrote a story about it.”

“Well, what you didn’t write was that there was another guy with the one killed, but the shooter missed him.”

Rachel thought back to the story. No mention had been made by the police about another individual being present. “Who was it?”

“Me. I saw the guy right before he shot and he weren’t no gang member. I ran and he chased me. I hid in a Dumpster, but I seen him.”

“Then you can identify the killer?”

“Naw, but I knows he’s a white guy.”

Rachel’s shoulders sagged. “That just reinforces what the police think. The Rangers are white. It was one of their members.”

“No,” he hissed. “This guy didn’t have no flag.”

Rachel sat up straighter and frowned. “He wasn’t wearing gang colors?”

“No. If he been a Ranger, he would’ve been proud of the hit and woulda been showing ’em off.”

Rachel thought about that for a moment. What he said made sense. “Then who do you think he was?”

“Ain’t got no idea. But like I said, I been thinkin’. The popo ain’t questioned why they so many deaths of gang members in Lake City all of a sudden. They say that just no-goods killin’ each other. What if somebody who ain’t in a gang’d like to see the two go head-to-head in a war? So he starts killin’ Vipers and Rangers, hoping that’ll happen.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “A vigilante? You think there’s one on the loose in Lake City?”

“Now you catchin’ on.”

“But why are you telling me this? Why not go to the police?”

A laugh rumbled in the man’s throat. “I can’t do that ’cause we don’t talk to no popo. They wish we’d all disappear from the face of the earth anyway. I expect they figures if we kill each other off it’ll just make their job easier.”

Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. A vigilante? She’d never thought of that. “What do you want me to do?”