An Angel For Christmas Part 13

Shayne twisted to see who was talking. Of course, Mike had left his post at the garage door; Luke DeFeo had followed him out.

"If you're really law enforcement," Mike said, "you'll remember that you catch the criminals, and the justice system sees to punishment."

"And if you're an ADA," DeFeo countered, "you know that half the sc.u.m of the earth winds up in court-and then walking."

"Shayne, you ready?" Bobby asked. "Rope is going down again. Can you handle it?"

"Yes," Shayne said.

And yes, he would.

"Go! You've got Dad to help you lever the weight."

This time, it was going to be really hard; Gabe Lange was at least six-two, and had to weigh a well-muscled two hundredplus pounds.

"d.a.m.n!" Bobby swore. He'd not gotten the rope down far enough.

As he pulled it up to toss it down again, they all heard the cracking of a branch, as loud as thunder in the crisp and silent air of the tension-filled winter morning.

"Hurry!" Morwenna breathed.

"Got it, got it," Bobby a.s.sured her.

He tossed the rope again.

They heard Gabe shouting from below. "I have it!"

Just as the echo of his words died, they heard a crack like a gunshot; it was the end of the bush that had broken Gabe's fall down the slope.

Shayne felt himself jerked forward as Gabe's weight fell fully on the rope.

Morwenna screamed, throwing herself on Shayne to further anchor him; Mike lunged forward, catching the rope with Bobby, and they both leaned back, trying to brace their boots against the slick white snow.

"Wenna, back...inch back little by little," Shayne said.

She obeyed him; she wasn't much on size, but the fact that she was there with him, clinging to him as if he were salvation itself, gave him strength. She braced his legs, moving as slowly as a snail, adding weight to his anchor as he painfully wormed his way back, feeling as if his shoulders would break and his spine would snap if they didn't make it soon.

But then, just when he thought he wouldn't make it, the pressure eased up. He and Morwenna had been trying so hard to keep moving that they actually slid backward a foot when the tension on the rope eased.

Again, he dared to look up. Mike had dragged Gabe up the last few feet. And now he, Bobby and Gabe were lying halfway entangled with one another by the slope, gasping for breath, laughing with relief and congratulating one another.

Shayne rolled to his back and looked up at the sky.

It had cleared; the dark clouds were gone.

He glanced to the side. Still handcuffed, Luke DeFeo was looking on.

"He's a d.a.m.n good actor," he said quietly to Shayne.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n if it was an act or not," Shayne said. "My daughter and my sister are alive."

Morwenna, showered, changed and headed downstairs. She could hear her father speaking to her brother Bobby, and she stopped before reaching the parlor.

"He showered, got into dry warm clothes and let me put the ropes right back on him," Bobby said. "Dad, I just can't see how the man could be any kind of killer."

"I have to admit, Bobby, I just don't see it either. But the thing is, we still don't know. What if DeFeo is right?"

"Dad, Gabe pitched himself over a cliff to save Genevieve," Bobby said.

"So did your sister," Mike said huskily.

"Morwenna is my hero, Dad. But she's Genevieve's aunt. Gabe was ready to give his life for a little girl he just met."

She heard her father sigh deeply. "I know that, Bobby. But the sky has cleared. We're getting these guys down to the tavern. Someone there will have some way to communicate with the rest of the world. And if we're right, and Gabe is a good guy, we'll know it then."

Morwenna hurried down the stairs.

"Where are our-prisoners now?" she asked.

"In the kitchen," her father told her.

"With Shayne?"

"Shayne is trying to make Genevieve and Connor understand that they still have to learn to listen to what they're told," Bobby said.

"Then who is watching the prisoners?" she asked.

"Your mother," Mike said.

"Mom?"

Mike grinned. "Don't underestimate the power of a mother and grandmother, Morwenna," he told her. "She's grateful to Gabe, but she's hard as nails when she wants to be. She knows we're all going to start down to the tavern."

Morwenna stared at her father and Bobby with surprise, and then hurried into the kitchen.

Both men were seated on stools by the island workstation with steaming cups in front of them. It wasn't coffee; Morwenna smelled the aroma of chicken soup.

Stacy was seated away from them at the far end, the shotgun in her hand.

She glanced at Morwenna as she entered. "Make sure you're dressed good and warm," she told her daughter. "We're going to leave as soon as everyone is ready."

"We're walking down, I take it?" she asked her mother, eyeing the two men. They were at opposite sides of the table, but Stacy had seen to it that neither could possibly reach out and grab her-or the shotgun.

"We have to. There isn't a plausible path a car could make anywhere on the mountain right now," her mother said. "Yesterday was dangerous, and there's been more snow since then. Last night, late in the night, I woke up, and I saw that it was snowing again."

Morwenna couldn't help but look across the table at Gabe. He looked at her with a grin and a shrug.

"On this walk, you'd better keep a close eye on Gabe Lange," DeFeo warned. "Don't you people see? He figured that once he'd saved the little girl, you'd be so grateful, you'd untie him."

"He could have died," Morwenna pointed out.

"Yes, but he's facing life in prison or a death sentence if you get him down the mountain," DeFeo said. "The Commonwealth of Virginia still carries out the death penalty when the judge determines that it's appropriate. And you people still don't know the half of what he's capable of."

"We've established that," Morwenna said.

"Fine-take your chances walking down to the tavern," DeFeo said.

"That's what we're doing," Stacy said firmly.

"Stacy!"

Mike's voice sounded from the parlor.

"Yes, Mike?"

"We're ready. Head them on out," he called.

"You heard my husband," Stacy said. "Rise slowly and carefully, gentlemen, one at a time, please, and keep your distance from each other as we head out."

The men rose. Gabe stared at Luke. "After you."

"No, no. I wouldn't be so rude. After you," DeFeo said.

"DeFeo, you first!" Morwenna said. "And I'll be behind you with a frying pan, and trust me, I actually know how to use one on someone's head!"

"Careful not to get in my line of fire," Stacy said lightly.

DeFeo started out. For a moment, Morwenna thought he was going to make a lunge for the knives in the wooden holder on the counter; she quickly made good on her threat and reached for the copper-bottomed frying pan above her head, but it appeared he had just stumbled; he righted himself, balancing against the counter as he headed out.

In the parlor, Stacy handed the shotgun over to Mike. Shayne had brought the children down, dressed in dry snowsuits for the walk down to the tavern. Genevieve was clinging to Connor; Connor had an arm around his sister. She was still white-faced and silent.

Morwenna knew that Shayne had to have done something to discipline her, no matter how grateful he was that she was alive. What she had done was against what she'd been told, and she had certainly been terrified by her misdeed.

Still, she offered her niece a smile. Genevieve looked up at her brother, and then ran to Morwenna, burying her face against Morwenna's thigh.

"Sweetie, we're all right," Morwenna said gently. She lifted the little girl, and looked at Shayne. She didn't think that her brother had been too hard on his daughter.

"Head on out," Mike said grimly.

Bobby led the way; Morwenna followed, Genevieve in her arms, Connor close behind. Ahead of the others a little, Morwenna asked Genevieve, "What made you run out like that? Daddy told you never to go near the path in winter."

Genevieve didn't answer. She laid her head against Morwenna's neck.

"Sweetie?"

"I had to make sure you didn't hurt him."

"Hurt-Gabe?"

Genevieve nodded.

"What made you think someone was hurting him?" Morwenna asked.

Genevieve looked up at her without speaking.

"She decided to look at the angel, and she dropped it, and she was all freaked out for some reason," Connor said, shaking his head with the wisdom of his older-brother years.

"Honey, the angel on the tree is just an ornament," Morwenna said. "And no ornament in the world is worth risking one pretty little hair on your head."

"It didn't break," Genevieve whispered.

"Well, that's good. But it doesn't matter."

"It did matter. I almost broke it," Genevieve said. "We should never hurt our angels. Angels are there to protect us."

"She's just not going to make any sense," Connor said sagely.

"I understand," Morwenna said, smiling. "But the ornament didn't break, and it is an ornament, Genevieve, a pretty ornament that makes us think of angels. But it's all really all right."

"Follow me-I know the road best," Bobby said. He looked back at her and grinned. "I am the baby, you know. Adult baby now, of course, but I've spent the most time with the folks around here lately. I'll keep you from sinking into the snow." He frowned, arching a brow to Morwenna. "How long do you think you can carry her?"

Morwenna wondered that herself. The snow was deep, at least two feet, and every step they took was something of an effort.

"I think the snow may be taller than she is," Morwenna said.

"We can trade off," Bobby a.s.sured her.

Morwenna turned back. Shayne had positioned himself between DeFeo and Morwenna and his children; Gabe followed DeFeo, and her mother walked by her father's side at the rear.

She s.h.i.+fted Genevieve's weight. It was true; Genevieve might be a little bit of a girl, but she got heavy quickly as they floundered in the snow. The path, even with Bobby leading, was rough; there were patches of ice, and he warned her about them as he slipped and slid his way in the lead. They were going downward, and though, beneath the snow, the road was decent, it was bound to be difficult going.

Her arms began to ache, but she was determined to make it another ten minutes; Bobby was the lead, testing the ground. She was afraid that Shayne would wind up with muscle spasms, after all that he'd been through, dragging everyone back up the slope. Her father had the shotgun, and she was afraid that her mother would snap somewhere along the line. Stacy could be so strong-but how strong?

"We are idiots, you know," Bobby said.

She looked at him, smiling. "I'm certain we often are-on many levels. But why are you saying that?"

"We have little sleds! Why didn't we bring one of the sleds-we could have pulled the children."

"Because we weren't thinking. Because we don't know who is a convict and who is a good guy."

"All right...but we should have thought of the sled," Bobby said.

Morwenna hugged Genevieve more tightly.

She winced, thinking of the horrible minutes she'd been caught on the ledge. First, trying to get Genevieve up. She'd never imagined what it could be like to be so terrified for her own life, and even more afraid for the life of the little girl. Terrified, and frozen.

Gabe can't be bad! she told herself. She could recall his words; she could almost hear his voice aloud as she remembered the way he had a.s.sured her: "It's all right. I've got a hold here that's solid enough for a few minutes. I've got Genevieve. Just get the rope...there, you can do it. Have faith in yourself, Morwenna, you can do it."