A Laramie, Texas Christmas

“Everyone helping everyone else? Or is that just because it’s Christmas?” Noelle asked.

“I think,” Kevin answered, “Christmas inspires everyone to be generous. But Laramie is a great place, year round. People here take care of each other.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You being a big-city girl and all,” he teased.

“Houston has its perks, but a small-town feel is not one of them,” Noelle replied. Then she changed the subject. “What kinds of cases are you working on?”

“Yesterday, there was the case of the missing leaf blower,” Kevin said with exaggerated seriousness. “Turned out to be in the caller’s backyard. He’d just forgotten to bring it in, and panicked when he didn’t see it in his garage.”

A mixture of amusement and respect sparkled in her eyes. “That sounds…”

“Pedestrian? I guess it is. But compared to things I saw when I worked on other police forces—let’s just say I prefer small-town problems.”

“And small-town women?” Noelle asked. “Do you prefer them, too?”

Dear Reader,

Christmas is a holiday that stirs strong emotions, and mine have run the gamut. There was my first Christmas as a new bride—very romantic. My first Christmas hundreds of miles away from my family—highly sentimental, and not necessarily in a good way. Our Christmases with our children when they were young and impossibly excited were very joyous indeed. The Christmas immediately following the passing of my father was achingly bittersweet.

There are years when the holiday spirit seems determined to elude me—although I always find it eventually—and years when I am overrun with merriment and anticipation weeks before the actual day. I never know how the season is going to start—that sort of depends on what is going on around me. I always know how it’s going to end, with celebration and appreciation, love and family. And the same is true of the residents of fictional Laramie, Texas.

I hope you enjoy this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. For more information on this and other titles, please visit me at www.cathygillenthacker.com.

Happy holidays and best wishes,

Cathy Gillen Thacker married her high school sweetheart and hasn’t had a dull moment since. Why? you ask. Well, there were three kids, various pets, any number of automobiles, several moves across the country, his and her careers and sundry other experiences (some of which were exciting and some of which weren’t). But mostly, there was love and friendship and laughter, and lots of experiences she wouldn’t trade for the world.

For my buddy Regan, the best canine companion this writer could ever have. And definitely my best Christmas present ever.

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

Epilogue

Kevin McCabe knew thirteen-and-one-half days of pure unadulterated bliss were too good to be true. It figured that on his way back to Laramie, Texas, he would see something that just had to be investigated. And that the unmarked white van currently backed up to the rear door of the Blackberry Hill mansion would be in an area with no cell phone connections. Had he been driving his work vehicle he’d have had a way to communicate his concern. Instead, he was driving the battered four-wheel drive Jeep he’d owned since high school. It had no two-way radio or emergency communication system.

After pulling over to the side of the winding rural road and watching a woman carry armloads of stuff out of the house, stash it in the van, then dart back into the residence via the side door, he decided to scope out the situation himself. If it had been just material possessions in question, Kevin would have waited for backup. But an eighty-five-year-old woman owned the property. And Miss Sadie had had a bad year already, losing her husband of sixty-two years. Kevin wasn’t sure if she was back yet from that six-week recuperative cruise she had been on, but he knew, as did everyone else in the close-knit community, that she was due home any day. Chances were, she wasn’t there now, hadn’t walked in to witness the theft, or worse, been there when the thieves arrived. But if she was there, Kevin couldn’t drive off and leave her. Not without first making sure Miss Sadie was okay.

Keeping an eye out for anything else suspicious, he drove slowly toward the pink brick Georgian house with the weathered gray shutters, stopping just short of the white van. Wishing he had a way to check the license plates, he cut the engine and got out. He walked down the long, tree-lined driveway toward the open side door, then paused to look in the windows of the rented van. It was loaded with Miss Sadie’s valuables, all right, he noted grimly. Everything from a Tiffany lamp to her jewelry box and favorite rocking chair.