Christmas Undercover

She’d just killed a man.

Her fingers tightened around the grip of the gun and her hand trembled uncontrollably, sending a wave of shivers across her body.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Will said, rushing to her. “Let’s get you inside.”

She thought she nodded, but couldn’t be sure.

“Relax your fingers,” he said, trying to take the gun away.

Staring at her hand, she struggled to follow his order but couldn’t seem to let go.

“Sara, look at me.”

She took a quick breath, then another. With a gentle hand, he tipped her chin to focus on his green eyes. Green like the forest after a heavy rain.

“That’s it,” he said. “Everything’s okay. You can let go now.”

But she didn’t feel okay. Her hands grew ice cold and thoughts raced across her mind in a random flurry: her boss’s disappointed frown, her cousin Pepper’s acceptance into med school, the look on her father’s face when he savored a piece of coconut cream pie.

A long time ago. Before...before...

Her legs felt as if they were melting into the soft earth.

She gasped for air...

And was floating, her eyes fixed on the moon above before she drifted into the cabin.

It was warm inside. It smelled like burning wood, not death. She was placed on the bed in front of the fire, but she didn’t lie down because she didn’t want to sleep, to dream, to be held captive by the nightmares.

“Keep the blanket around your shoulders,” Will said.

It was then that she realized he’d carried her inside. He pulled the blanket snugly around her, and poked at the fire. It flared back to life.

He kneeled in front of her. “You’re probably going into shock, but you’ll be fine.”

Those green eyes, brimming with promise and sincerity, made her believe that things would actually be okay.

It only lasted for a second.

Because in Sara’s life, things were never okay.

“I’ll be right back.” Will squeezed her shoulder and left.

That was when the terror of her life came crashing down on her.

If she were a religious person, she’d go as far as to say she’d sinned in the worst possible way.

She’d killed a man.

She’d become like the monsters she’d sworn to destroy.

Like the monster that killed her father.

* * *

Will clicked into overdrive. He tossed logs out of the wood container, rolled the body onto a tarp and dragged him across the property.

A part of him was shocked, both by the murder of a stranger, and by his own reaction. He found himself more worried about Sara than the ramifications of this man’s death.

It should be justified in the eyes of the law, since she’d shot him to save Will’s life. The guy would have surely beaten Will to death, leaving his children parentless. Will wasn’t sure Sara had had another option. The man was about brutality and death, and that was how his life had ended.

But taking another man’s life was a sin, so after Will placed the body and weapon into the wood container, he kneeled beside it and prayed. “Father, please forgive us. In our efforts to live, we took another man’s life.”

Guilt clenched his heart. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. But he couldn’t dwell on it, not while Sara was going into shock. He needed to tend to her.

As he went back to the cabin, he noticed the man’s blood on his gloves. He took them off and dropped them outside the door. The sight of blood might upset her further. He stepped inside the cabin.

Sara was not on the bed where he’d left her. He snapped his head around. “Sara?” His heart slammed against his chest. Had she left again? Was she wandering aimlessly in the mountains in a state of shock?

“Sara!”

The echo of his own voice rang in his ears. He turned, about to race out into the dark night.

Then he heard a squeak. Hesitating, he waited to see if he’d imagined it. Another squeak drifted across the room. He slowly turned back. The sound was coming from under the bed.

Will went to the bed and checked beneath it. Sara’s terrified blue eyes stared back at him.

“He won’t see me in here,” she said in a childlike whisper.

“No, he won’t. That’s a good hiding place.” He stretched out on his back and extended his hand. She looked at it. “Your hands must be very cold,” he said.

She nodded. “Like ice-cycles.”

“My hand is warm. May I warm the chill from your fingers?”

Her eyes darted nervously beyond him. “What if he comes back?”

“He won’t. He’s...” Will hesitated. Reminding her she’d killed a man would not help her snap out of shock. “He’s gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred and ten percent.” The number he used with his girls.

She eyed Will’s hand. He motioned with his fingers to encourage her to come out.

“I’m only safe if I stay hidden,” she whispered. “He won’t see me in here.”

That was the second time she used the phrase in here. Where did she think she was? Will suspected she might be drifting in and out of reality, the present reality mixed with a past trauma, perhaps? At any rate, he needed to keep an eye on her condition by making sure she was warm and comfortable. If she felt most comfortable under the bed, then that was where she’d stay.