Chapter 6
As Ryan became distracted, Steve spun out of his reach before the gun discharged. The bullet whizzed past Steve as he felt a slight sting to the side of his arm. Ignoring the discomfort, he tackled Ryan, knocking the gun from his hand. Weston jumped quickly to retrieve the gun and held the suspect at gunpoint. Deputy Griffith, feeling well enough to make the rest of his shift, had his gun drawn as well.
"Hey, partner," Weston called out. "Good to see you!"
"Glad I could be here", Griffith replied. "All year with so little crime and what do we get right before Christmas?"
"Oh no!" Agnes responded. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. We were turning ourselves in!"
"Sure you were," Steve replied sarcastically as he checked the side of his borrowed snow jacket and found a good sized gash.
"No, Inspector Keller, you have to believe us. We came back for you when we saw this car pick you up. We decided to follow you to make sure you were okay."
"How kind," Steve replied in a still sarcastic tone.
"No, it's true," Marty answered. "We shouldn't have left you there and we knew it. It was wrong."
"That's an understatement," Weston added. He was slightly relieved that Steve's story had been easily confirmed.
Marty pleaded, "But Ryan…the boy is just scared. He doesn't want anything to happen to us. Please don't arrest him."
Griffith answered back, "Let's get this sorted out inside. For now, everyone with their hands up!"
Weston looked over to Steve who was fiddling who stood with his hand over his injury trying to suppress the sting. "You okay? You need an ambulance?"
"I'm fine," Steve answered automatically. "Better than your jacket, unfortunately," he said as he showed the deputy the hole with some of the jacket's insulation peeking out.
"You're not hit?" Weston pressed.
"It's probably just a scratch," Steve answered. "It usually is," he mumbled, still confounded by the fact that he managed to find trouble even while on vacation. He turned to follow the others into the station.
Mike and Jeannie made it to the small regional airport in Sacramento just before midnight. Their journey from the mountains was more frustrating than before. Conditions worsened along the way, so all Mike could do was take it slow and easy. Once they passed Auburn, the road opened up again and he was able to make up some time. Still, he was not optimistic on their chances of flying out that late.
While the airport was open, there were very few people around. He found a schedule of flights and was correct in his assumption that no further flights were scheduled until morning. A security guard noticed the weary travellers and asked if he could be of assistance.
Mike showed the guard his badge and explained their situation. "We need to get to Tahoe quickly, but the mountain roads are closed."
"Yes, I've heard the storm has been terrible. It's one of the worst blizzards they've had in a while," he remarked. He reached for a walkie-talkie and buzzed another worker at the airport.
"I can't promise anything," the guard told Mike as an aside. "Darryl," he said loudly into the device. "Darryl, we've got a police lieutenant from San Francisco and a young woman who need to get over the mountains to reach one of his men. We got any cargo planes or med units headed out tonight yet?"
"Checking…" came the disembodied voice. A few moments later, he spoke again. "Not much except for a 9-seater that's going to Reno. It's a last minute deal. A couple of guys were trying to deliver a shipment of wood carvings to a place near Tahoe, but they ran into problems and had to turn back. In addition to the guys, there's a pilot and a ton of wrapped presents, but perhaps they might have room. Have your people meet me over at gate 15."
Mike was happy to accept any help at this point that would get him closer to where Steve was last seen. As they reached gate 15, Mike saw the man he thought was Darryl speaking with three other men. One was clearly the pilot, a shorter brown haired gentleman wearing a uniformed shirt and a pilot's jacket. One of the other men was a bearded older man, while the third man appeared younger and taller, but was hard to describe since his back was turned. The pilot and older man had frowns on their faces, but nodded in agreement with what Darryl was asking. Perhaps there's hope yet, Mike thought to himself.
When Darryl saw Mike, Jeannie and the security guard, he looked at the trio and said, "You're in luck. These two men are willing to share the plane with you. But you'll have to sit in the back with their cargo."
Mike turned and nodded to the two men, both of whom had costumes on hangers draped over their shoulders. One was red and one was green. The older man holding the red costume turned and smiled at Mike and Jean. "I'm Nicholas," he said as he introduced himself. "Mikey and I were headed through the mountain pass to deliver toys we'd carved to a home for needy children, but we had to turn around when we found the road had closed. Sounds like you are in the same boat," he pondered.
Mike looked at the other man and was stunned to see that "Mikey" was the same man who helped him tow his car out of the ice. He smiled as he warmly shook both men's hands. "Actually, I met Mikey on the road – he had pulled over to help my daughter and me."
"Oh, that was you, huh? Ah, yes, I was in the truck as well taking a cat nap. Mikey is as strong as an ox, so I knew it would take nothing for him to chain your car to ours."
"You were there and gone in a flash," Mike said as he turned to Mikey and smiled. "Thank you again," he said slowly to where the deaf man could read his lips.
The muted Mike did nothing but smile widely, but it warmed both Mike and Jeannie's hearts and gave them reassurance that perhaps things would be okay.
Jeannie felt the excitement of the day creeping up on her. She moved closer to her father and leaned her head against his shoulder. Mike pulled his padded jacket around both of them, when he felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned around. The mute man Mikey was by his side handing him a warm blanket. Mike accepted it gratefully and covered his sleepy daughter. He sincerely hoped that at least one of them would get a bit of a shut eye. The monotonous engine noises seemed to have a soporific effect on the young woman and soon her breathing became deep and regular. Mike looked at his daughter. Her worried features had relaxed and once more she resembled the little girl that he had watched sleeping so many times. Mike's heart was heavy with concern for Steve, his second child, as he had come to think of him. He had managed to keep his little girl safe until now, but what about his boy? Was he out there in the cold? Was he hurt? How long could someone survive out there? Mike sighed deeply.
The man who had introduced himself as Nicolas looked at Mike and the compassion in his eyes was as heart-warming as Mikey's smile. "Whatever troubles you my friend, have faith. Don't ever underestimate the wonder of Christmas. Miracles happen…"
Mike sighed again. A miracle… Oh dear God!
"Why don't you tell what is on your mind? Sometimes talking about things makes you see them clearer. Even if we may not be able to help you, we are both good listeners."
Mike looked at Nicolas incredulously. The man chuckled. "Don't underestimate Mikey! He listens with his eyes- and with his heart!" Mike glanced across the aisle where the deaf-mute man was sitting. Mikey nodded encouragingly and smiled.
Mike swallowed hard and started.
Meanwhile Steve had followed the two deputies and their prisoners into the comparatively warm building. In spite of the thick jacket he was wearing, he still felt chilled to the bone. Griffith and Weston acted like a perfect team- Griffith turned up the thermostat of the heating higher, while Weston put on a fresh pot of coffee. Steve pulled up a chair next to the radiator, trying to soak up as much warmth as he could.
Weston eyed him with concern. "Griff- could you try and find some dry clothes for our friend here while I keep an eye on our special guests?" He nodded towards the subdued group, huddled together trying to support each other. The two men stood on either side of the silently sobbing Agnes, arms around her.
Weston beckoned towards a table and chairs. "Here, sit down, but no funny business. " He pushed a box of tissues towards the family.
Griffith returned with an armful of clothes and some towels. "There, I found a few spare sweats in various lockers. The sooner you get out of your wet clothes the sooner you will feel warm again." The Deputy directed Steve towards an adjoining office, where he could peel off his clammy garments. The sleeve of his turtleneck jumper was wet and sticky with blood and he gingerly prised the fabric away from the gash. As predicted the crease wasn't deep and the blood was beginning to clot already. Still, the wound would require some cleaning and a sterile dressing. Steve felt a pang of wistfulness when he thought how Mike would fuss… Mike-oh my God! I'd better ring him before he tries to get hold of me at the hotel…
Towelled dry, Steve felt the circulation returning to his limbs. He put on a pair of ill-fitting pants and a short sleeved t shirt. He needed some help with dressing the wound, before he could slip the warm sweatshirt on. Although he still felt cold, the shivers that had wracked his body had stopped. When he went back into the main office the coffee had perked and everybody was sitting around the table companionably, nursing steaming mugs of the black brew. Weston pulled out a chair for Steve and handed him a mug of coffee. "I put plenty of sugar in it, you look a bit peaky. Griff- is there any food?"
Steve shook his head; all he wanted was something hot. Weston brought the First Aid Box over and busied himself with the crease on Steve's arm. The sight of the bleeding gash brought a fresh stream of tears from Agnes. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! None of this was supposed to happen! We only wanted to talk some sense into Midlem…"
"Look, Sheriff, my wife has nothing to do with any of this, I was the one who panicked and dumped the young man on the road. You should have heard the earful I got from Agnes when she realised what I had done! And she made me turn round as soon as possible to go back for him." Marty interrupted her.
Agnes looked up from behind her tissue and gave him a teary smile.
"No, officer, I am the one to blame, I grabbed the gun and it is my fault that Keller got injured. I guess I just lost it…" Ryan interjected.
"One after the other! Let's start at the beginning!" Deputy Weston cut the self-accusations short.
While Griffith took down the personal details for the report, Weston finished bandaging up Steve's arm and helped him put on the sweatshirt.
"Thanks; the arm is as good as new. But before I can give you my part of the story I really need to make an urgent phone call." Steve was getting quite anxious to talk to Mike.
Griffith looked up from the form he was filling in. "You and most of the town. The phone lines are down and the way things are no repair crew will be out to fix them until the blizzard has blown over."
Steve felt his stomach lurch with apprehension. Knowing Mike he had probably made contact with the hotel already, trying to warn him against driving under treacherous road conditions only to find out that Steve had gone missing. Unless- unless of course all the phone lines were down and he couldn't get through to the hotel in the first place, which might even worry him more. Oh, how he hated to worry his friend!
Weston added: "No communication with Detective Daniels either, no reinforcements, no cavalry! I tried the radio earlier on, but the static is too bad." He shrugged his shoulders. "We'd better make ourselves comfortable and prepare for a long night. I just wish we had something decent to eat!"
"Wait a minute!" Ryan piped up. "Mom, didn't you pack some sandwiches and cookies?"
Agnes nodded, happy that she could contribute something useful to help them over the long night.
Weston looked at the family with a hint of suspicion.
"Great stuff, but I'll better get the food myself; we don't want anyone going AWOL at this stage, do we?"