a Detective Shelley Caldwell “Hot Christmas” Novella

The song “Do You Hear What I Hear?” was
written as a plea for peace during the Cuban Missile Crisis in the middle of
the Cold War. Now Christmas is just around the corner, and Shelley and Jake are
in a cold war of their own…

Chapter One

Four days before Christmas

Sleet hit Chicago like an icy whip early
this afternoon, the Christmas gift that just kept giving. I love snowy
Christmases, but getting pelted in the face with icy needles was sheer misery,
reminding me of my current relationship with my live-in love, Jake DeAtley.

Putting him out of mind so that I could
concentrate on the job, I carefully negotiated the ice-laden pavement and took
a quick look at the Uniforms in charge of crowd control, the EMT guy at the
body and the gathering spectator herd outside the yellow tape taking their damn
selfies with the dead guy behind them.

“Nice one for the holidays.” Detective
Mike Norelli shook his grizzled head. “Great last minute Christmas cards.” He
glanced back at me. “C’mon, Caldwell, let’s get this over with. I actually got
a hot date tonight.”

“Right,” I muttered, wondering what kind
of a woman would go for the sarcastic cop. “I should rush to the scene and kill
myself, too.”

Norelli snorted as he ducked under the
Crime Scene tape. “That’s what you get for wearing killer boots.”

I wasn’t a fashionista like my twin
sister Silke, but I had my moments. These knee length suede boots with high
heels I’d seen in Westbrook’s windows had done me in. Or would do me in, I
thought as I slid toward the dead man in the middle of the street. I regained
control just in time to prevent myself from tripping over him.

“There’s the reason he’s dead,” Norelli
groused, pointing to the tree on his other side. “Too into the Christmas spirit
to get out of the way of traffic.”

“Nobody’s ever accused you of having too
much spirit.”

But some kind of
spirit was making my hackles rise. Sorrow…mourning…despair. A faint
whisper in my mind froze me where I stood. This psychic thing had started
between Silke and me when we were little kids and had grown into our being able
to talk to each other without actually speaking. Now Jake and I could read each
other’s minds, as well. Too bad I couldn’t change his when
it came to Christmas. Whatever was going on here at the scene hit me in the
gut. I took a good look through the gathered crowd but saw no one in tears or
appearing distraught. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was on
the edge, no matter how much I wanted to believe otherwise. I recognized
woo-woo the instant it hit me.

“So did someone really run him down on
purpose?” I asked the EMT, who was kneeling by the body.

“Don’t know for sure.” He got to his
feet. He pointed to a small knot of teenagers behind him. “Those girls
witnessed it. At least one of them picked up footage on her phone.”

“I’ll go talk to them,” Norelli grunted.

He left me staring down at the poor
middle-aged dead guy spread out next to a gorgeous pine tree unlike any I’d
ever seen before. There was something magical about it, because just looking at
it warmed me inside. I steeled myself against showing any emotion, though,
because there was nothing positive about his death. I didn’t want anyone to
think I didn’t have the proper respect. Poor guy probably had been bringing the
Christmas tree home for his wife and kids. Oh, Lord, I hoped I wasn’t the one
who’d have to share the bad news with his family. Worst part of the job.

“The county medical examiner’s van is on
his way to take him to the morgue,” the EMT told me. “Ah, crud, I forgot to
call Streets and Sanitation to remove the tree.”

They would not only remove the beautiful
Christmas tree, they would destroy it, run it through their grinder to make
mulch. Something kept me from wanting that to happen, at least not while it was
still alive. The van to take the body away was already pulling up to the crime
scene.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You
take care of the victim. I’ll take care of the tree.”

And then I would have to deal with Jake
when I brought it home.

***

“I thought we agreed on no Christmas
tree,” Jake said the moment he laid eyes on it.

He wore nothing but an angry expression,
the black diamond in his right ear and a towel low around his hips. I swallowed
hard and tried not to admire what I couldn’t have. Not an early riser unless a
little something erotic was involved—and there had been none of that in my
reality since I’d insisted on decorating my half of the apartment for the
holiday—he’d been dead asleep when I’d left for work that morning. Not
literally dead, despite the vampire blood he’d inherited from his mother.

Sarge and Cadet were already circling
the tree, no doubt wondering how long it would be before they could climb it.

“No!” I said a little too harshly. Sarge
fell back on his haunches, his expression hurt and disbelieving, and scaredy
cat Cadet ran behind the couch.

“I’m waiting for your supposed
explanation.”

“I caught another woo-woo case. Really
bad vibes.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “That’s your
explanation for bringing home a Christmas tree against your sworn promise?”

“I’m telling you, there was something
weird going on. I felt it right away.” Of course that’s not why I’d saved the
tree from the chipper. “All right, then if you don’t believe me, don’t think of
it as a Christmas tree. Think of it as a beautiful mountain pine that didn’t
deserve to be destroyed while it was still alive. It’s just here temporarily to
make the apartment smell nice.”

“Right. Justify it all, why don’t you?”

“I didn’t do this to hurt you, Jake. I
won’t even decorate it. I promise.”

His dark gaze cut through the room, half
of which was already decorated with boughs of holly and strings of lights and
candles everywhere. I’d set out bowls of ornaments, most of which I’d bought
one at a time, each with special meaning for me. Plus there were those from
Silke’s and my childhood. “Santa” (Dad) had always brought a few for each of us
along with our other presents.

“By the way,” Jake added, “that ‘not a
Christmas tree’ is on my side of the room.”

The barren side.

Grunting, I tried lifting the tree to
appease him, but I swore it had gotten heavier every time I moved it. Or maybe
I just needed the meal I’d never gotten around to eating. “I suppose you
wouldn’t consider helping me.”

In answer, he crossed his arms over his
bared chest and raised one dark eyebrow.

My heart fluttering despite the tension
between us, I did the best I could, dragging it, inching it along, finally
leaning it against the wall next to the couch. At least I didn’t have to go
down to the storage area and find the stand. I’d brought it up with the rest of
my decorations, also with no help from Jake. How the heck was I supposed to
lift such a heavy tree into the stand myself?

Jake and I stared at each other for a
moment, and I swore I read regret in his expression before he turned away.

“I’ll be in the shower,” he growled as
he made for the bathroom.

Normally, that would have included an
invitation to join him.

What exactly did he regret? For
disappointing me? Or because he couldn’t shake the memories of a horrific
childhood when none of his Christmases had been anything to celebrate?

The mother who’d loved him as best she
could had been pregnant with Jake when she’d been turned by a vampire against
her will. Amazing that he’d turned out pretty normal other than having
tremendous speed, strength and hearing. And an appetite for very rare, very
bloody beef—couldn’t forget that one. From what he’d told me, he’d been as
normal a kid as was possible, but his mother’s uncontrollable urge to feed on
human blood came even before his needs at times. Definitely before Christmas.
So after he’d spent holiday after holiday alone, no one to take him to
Christmas services at midnight, no one to read him a Christmas story or to sing
a Christmas carol with him, he’d given up celebrating, both religious and
secular.

But now that we had found each other, had
fallen in love, had bought a condo and moved in together, I’d convinced myself
he would be open to something with such meaning for me. Until our Dad had died
on the job, he’d made every Christmas special for Silke and me. I honored his
memory every holiday. I’d told Jake that. I’d hoped that he would at least try
to celebrate with me.

I’d been wrong.

And too stubborn to let it go.

So I’d come up with a compromise. “My
half” of every room in our new condo would be decorated as I wanted. Same with
“his half.” I’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he would loosen up a bit.
Instead, while he’d agreed I could hang my lights and set out my candles and
ornaments on my side, the biting part of the bargain was that there was to be
no Christmas tree. I had reluctantly agreed.

Now this.

Saddened, I ran a hand along a branch of
pine needles and it struck me again even harder.

Sorrow…mourning…despair.

I stood there for a moment staring at
the branches, trying to discern exactly what was going on. The depth of feeling
didn’t let up until I let go. And then I realized I hadn’t gotten the woo-woo
from someone in the crowd earlier.

I’d gotten it from the tree itself.