The Christmas Stranger Read online

  He’d pull through this black period somehow and get back on his feet. He wouldn’t quit—even if everyone he loved had quit on him.

  Tommy’s choking had rattled Holly, and seeing the watch, so much like Ryan’s, on the man at the center had destroyed her interest in revelry. After making sure Tommy would be all right, Holly had sneaked away from the Halloween party and headed to her truck.

  She’d already been giving a few hours each month to the Community Aid Center when Ryan was killed. Knowing one of the people she helped at the center could be responsible for the attack on her husband disturbed Holly deeply. She’d almost quit.

  But the evil actions of one person didn’t negate the good she was doing or the needs of the children she met at the center. Besides, what if she heard something through her volunteer work that could help the police catch Ryan’s killer?

  Over the past several months, she’d learned more about the homeless than she’d ever imagined. And many of her conceptions of who the homeless were and why they were on the streets had been blown out of the water. Many of the people she had helped had high school diplomas or professional skills, but medical bills to treat an illness had depleted their bank account. Or they’d been laid off a job and couldn’t pay their rent. Or they’d fled an abusive situation and had nowhere to go.

  A heartbreaking number of the center’s clients were single mothers, struggling to survive and feed their kids. As an elementary school teacher, Holly loved kids, and the needs of the homeless children touched her heart the most. Every child deserved a safe home and a roof over his or her head.

  Once she’d reached her Tacoma, she’d decided a brief walk to enjoy the October afternoon and clear her head was in order. She’d left the veil and detachable long skirt from her wedding dress on the front seat and put on a long cardigan over the travel suit portion of the gown.

  Now she stood in front of the old abandoned church where Ryan had been killed and realized the church had always been her destination. Before his death, Ryan had driven her by the structure and joked that they should buy it and restore it, as they were doing with the rambling old farmhouse they’d bought outside of town. Holly had only scowled at him. “One never-ending, money-pit renovation project at a time, please!”

  But Holly had been fascinated by the old church, the beautiful architecture and broken stained glass. The church had been a true treasure, lost to neglect and the elements. Since it was so close to the Community Aid Center, she had walked past the old church many times after she volunteered. She’d made the trip a sort of pilgrimage, a time to remember Ryan and renew her oath to find some truths and give herself closure.

  Today, the familiar questions seemed all the more relentless. Why had Ryan been in the old church to begin with? Who had he come across in the abandoned building, and why did that someone bash him on the head, killing him?

  Holly noticed white paper tacked to the front door and climbed over the yellow caution tape to read what had been posted on the church door.

  Warning! Building Condemned—No trespassing! This building scheduled to be demolished November 1, 8:00 a.m.

  Holly’s heart squeezed in disappointment. Demolished? The church might be old and unused, but the architecture was beautiful, and the history attached to the old church was priceless. Why hadn’t the Historical Society stepped in years ago to preserve the church? She hated to think of the loss to the community.

  And what about the investigation into Ryan’s murder? If they tore down the building, any remaining clues would be lost forever.

  Not that any clues remained. Robert had told her that he and the other officers with Morgan Hollow’s tiny police force had been through the crime scene multiple times and found precious little evidence to explain Ryan’s death.

  Holly bit her lip, grieved that tomorrow the church would be gone. An overwhelming need seized Holly to go inside the church one last time, see the room where Ryan had died, look once more for something, anything that could explain his death.

  Some enterprising hooligan had smashed the padlock fastening the chain through the door handles. So much for security. Clearly she wasn’t the only person interested in the old church. Drawing a deep breath and ignoring the warning not to trespass, she pulled the front door open and crept inside.

  She’d only been inside the church once before, the week after Ryan died, while she’d still been lost in a blinding blizzard of emotions. Though she had visited the property regularly, she knew venturing inside the condemned building was dangerous. Today, that risk didn’t matter to her. The compelling need to feel close to Ryan, search the premises for herself and say a last goodbye urged her forward. This exploration of the old church might be the closest thing she’d ever have to the closure she craved so desperately.

  Cobwebs and dust decorated the walls and broken furnishings with an eerie ambience which any host of a Halloween party would envy. Taking baby steps into the shadowed foyer, Holly headed for the staircase. She grasped the wobbly banister, and the steps creaked as she slowly climbed toward the second floor.

  Halfway to the top, a step gave way beneath her weight. Her foot disappeared through the rotted wood. She toppled off balance.

  Gasping, Holly clutched the shaky railing to right herself. She paused long enough to suck in a calming breath and eye the last few steps warily. She considered her options, but the need to see the upstairs room where Ryan had died compelled her to continue.

  Inching closer to the wall, where she hoped the steps had more support, she crept up the last few stairs. Her heart stuck in her throat. The hallway on the upper floor loomed in the shadows, the darkness broken only where watery daylight seeped through open doors. Dust motes swam in those pools of gray light, and Holly focused on the bright spots instead of the darkness. She paused at the first door on the left. The room where Ryan’s body had been found.

  Standing in the doorway, Holly gazed into the empty room. Paint peeled from the molding. A gaping hole, where a window had once resided, marred the outside wall. That window, a round piece of stained glass, rested on the floor, propped in a corner.

  The room was so still, so quiet—except for her own labored breathing, the pounding pulse in her ears and the occasional coo of a mourning dove from the evergreen tree outside. As a cloud moved away from the afternoon sun, a golden beam poured in through the open hole in the wall and spilled across the floor. The sun lit the stained glass, bringing life to the arrangement of colors.

  In the center of the window, a white dove took flight, while all around the bird a dazzling jumble of colors created a brilliant backdrop.

  “Wow,” she murmured, stunned by the gorgeous find in the otherwise lonely and dreary old church. Holly stepped farther into the room and squatted in front of the stained glass for a better look. Upon closer examination she discovered the glass piece, unlike the many other windows in the church, was intact. The small window was in almost perfect condition. A bit of cleaning and a new setting would salvage it, and a tiny piece of history would survive.

  Holly’s pulse picked up as she formed her plan. If she could somehow get the stained glass to her truck, she could incorporate the window in the ongoing renovations at the farmhouse.

  She tried to lift the glass. Her muscles strained, and she got it off the floor…but getting the heavy, fragile window down the steps and to her truck would be a challenge. Especially since she still wore her wedding travel suit. She casually put it back.

  If she didn’t save the window, it would be destroyed in the morning when the wrecking crew arrived. She stood and chewed her lip, considering her options.

  She paced toward the door, out to the hall, glancing about for something she could put the glass on to slide it across the floor. Or use as leverage. Or…

  As she mulled her options, her thoughts darted in a different direction.

  Ryan.

  He’d have loved this stained glass. What if—

  “Is this what you were doing here, Ry�
�?” Something brushed against Holly’s leg, and she froze.

  A dark streak moved in the edge of her vision. Her breath hung in her lungs. She turned slowly, her gaze searching the dim room.

  And spotted a scruffy, thin cat staring back at her uneasily. With a low warning meow, the cat scampered from the shadows into the next room. Holly followed the cat, which made its way to a pile of rags heaped in the corner. The cat’s arrival started a chorus of high, thin mewls.

  Holly released a sigh, while the stray mother cat tended her kittens. Pulling her lips in a half smile, she edged closer. “Hey, little mama, I won’t hurt you or your babies.”

  The cat protested with an unhappy meow and crouched low beside her nest of five kittens. The babies were tiny, their eyes barely open.

  Holly’s heart fisted. They’d be killed when the wrecking ball came to raze the old church tomorrow. She had to do something, but the mother cat looked none too pleased to have someone poking around near her brood.

  “Easy there, mama. I won’t hurt—”

  The scuff of feet cut Holly off.

  A long, wide shadow fell over her, and a chill settled in her bones. Gasping, she whirled around.

  A tall man with shoulders that filled the doorway blocked her only exit. His face was hidden in shadow. When he spoke, his voice was deep and dark. “What are you doing?”

  Staring at the disheveled man who had her cornered in the dark room, Holly immediately conjured Robert’s theory.

  Ryan’s killer was most likely a vagrant.

  Chapter 2

  Holly shoved to her feet, tried to answer.

  Her voice stuck in her throat.

  “Didn’t you see the sign? This place has been condemned. It’s dangerous.” The man stepped farther into the room, moving out of the shadow that had obscured his face.

  Holly recognized the dark-haired man with piercing blue eyes who’d saved Tommy’s life, then disappeared from the Halloween party without a word.

  Her scampering pulse calmed a bit, but she kept a wary distance. As he moved closer, she edged away. “I…just wanted…to have a last look. This church is important to me, and…I wanted…needed…”

  She huffed a sigh. How did she explain about Ryan’s murder, the questions that needed answers, the closeness she felt to Ryan here? Why should she explain?

  She straightened her spine and leveled her shoulders. “Never mind my reasons. I knew the risks and weighed them.”

  He gave a negligent shrug. “All right.”

  His gaze shifted to the pile of rags where the kittens squeaked and fussed.

  Holly cleared her throat. “Why are you here?”

  His cool, clear eyes found hers again. “I saw you go in and followed you.”

  A prickle of apprehension crawled through her. “Why?”

  “Like I said, the place is condemned. It could be dangerous. I didn’t want you breaking a leg and being stuck in here alone.”

  She blinked at him, stunned. “Really?”

  He angled his head and tugged up a corner of his mouth. “Really.”

  Holly’s gaze lingered on his lips, visible despite the growth of several days’ beard. His lips were full, soft-looking…sexy. She shifted her feet, uncomfortable with the track of her thoughts. This man was a vagrant. Rumpled, unshaven, dirty. How could she find anything about him appealing?

  Yet she remembered how, back at the community center, his blue eyes and calming touch had stirred a warmth in her belly. She sensed something different about him and puzzled over the source of that intuition.

  He nodded to the nest of kittens. “Is this why you came in here? Did you know they were here?”

  Holly wiped sweaty palms on her dress, then grimaced. She’d left dirty smears on the skirt. “No. But now that I’ve found them, I can’t leave them to die in the demolition tomorrow.”

  “No. I reckon we can’t.”

  She raised her chin. “We?”

  “I’m at your disposal if you want my help.” When she hesitated, he stuck his hand out. “We met earlier but didn’t introduce ourselves. I’m Matt.”

  She took his hand, trembling when his long fingers closed warmly around hers. “Holly.” She thought of the stained glass in the next room and held her breath. “If you’re serious about helping, there is something…”

  He tipped his head. “Yeah?”

  When she didn’t answer for a few seconds, he crouched by the kittens. The mother cat hissed and ran.

  “Mom’s gonna be hard to catch. Harder to transport.” He picked up a kitten and stroked it with a finger. “They look pretty healthy. Too young to be without mom though. We’ll have to wrangle her to go with the babies, somehow.”

  Holly appraised Matt more closely. Could she trust him?

  His clothes, though well-worn, somewhat dirty and wrinkled, had been high quality when new. She recognized the name brand logo on his shirt pocket and designer cut of his slacks. Turning this incongruity over in her mind, she wondered where he’d gotten the expensive clothes. When he’d smiled, she’d noticed how white and straight his teeth were. Another anomaly among the men typically served at the Community Aid Center. So who was he? What was his story?

  Trusting her gut, she squatted next to him and gently patted one of the squirming kittens. “I found a stained-glass window in the next room I want to save, too. It’s pretty heavy, but maybe between the two of us, we could get it to my truck.”

  He met her gaze and nodded. “Sure, let’s have a look.”

  Holly showed him the stained glass and stood back as he hefted it into his arms with little effort. “Lead the way.”

  Taking the steps carefully, keeping near the wall, she led him outside and down the street to her truck. He rested the stained glass on the tailgate while she rearranged some painting supplies in the bed to make room for the window.

  “I’m remodeling my farmhouse, and this glass would be perfect in the entry foyer over the door.”

  “It is beautiful,” he agreed, settling it on the drop cloth she’d spread out. He dusted his hands and gave her a hard look. “You have someone at your house to help you unload it?”

  Holly bit her bottom lip as she thought. “I can call one of my brothers-in-law to come over, perhaps.”

  “What about your husband?”

  Holly’s heartbeat stumbled, and she swallowed hard before she answered. “He died last year.”

  Matt’s face darkened as his eyebrows drew together. “I’m so sorry. I lost my wife a few years ago myself. I know how hard it can be.”

  “I’m sorry for you, too.” Her gaze flicked to the watch on his wrist that he’d told her was from his wife. The timepiece would have been an expensive gift. Had Matt come from a wealthy family? He certainly spoke like an educated man. If so, how had he suffered such a reversal of fortune?

  “Now, about those kittens…” Matt scrubbed a hand on his chin, his beard making a scratching sound that danced down Holly’s spine with a pleasant shiver.

  Holly reached into the truck bed and dumped paint brushes out of a small box. “We can put the babies in here. But the mother won’t come willingly.”

  “Exactly. I was thinking we could wrap her up in a towel or one of those rags upstairs. Wrap her tightly like a mummy. It won’t hurt her, but she won’t be able to struggle and scratch us.”

  Us. He was using the plural pronoun again.

  She frowned. “Matt, I—”

  He held up a hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but…you can’t drive and subdue a frightened cat at the same time. If you’re willing to drive me back into town tonight, I’ll put my arms on the line with the scared feline and help you unload the window at your house.”

  Holly stared at him, debating his argument, his offer. “What’s in it for you? Why would you do that for me?”

  His eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Who said there was anything in it for me? Aren’t you a little tired of the selfish attitude society has come to? What happened
to being a good neighbor and helping out for the sake of being nice?”

  Holly opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Matt seemed too good to be true. Already today he’d saved a boy’s life without sticking around for the accolades. If she were to believe him, he’d been worried for her safety and come into the abandoned church to make sure she was all right.

  Narrowing a skeptical look on him, she pinched his arm. “Are you for real?”

  He rubbed the offended spot. “Yeah, and that hurt.”

  Holly crossed her arms over her chest. “So you’re not like a guardian angel or something?”

  “Afraid not.” He flashed his white smile, a dimple pocking one cheek and his blue eyes twinkling in the afternoon sun.

  Holly’s pulse fluttered.

  He was undeniably attractive, even with his rumpled clothes and scraggly beard. His eyes were stone-cold sober, and she didn’t smell any alcohol around him. He just didn’t fit any of the stereotypes for vagrants she’d learned over the years.

  She shook her head. “You’re not like most of the men that come to the Community Aid Center for help.”

  “I hope that’s a good thing.” Sobering his expression, he said, “I understand your concern, though. We just met. You don’t know if you can trust me. The whole safety issue, right?”

  She lifted her chin. “A girl has to be careful.”

  “You’re right.” He nodded and stroked his chin again. “You could pat me down to check for weapons.” He raised his arms and gave a devilish wink. “But I’m not carrying.”

  She returned a grin. “Or I could call my brother-in-law, the cop, to run your name through their computer and get the lowdown on you.”

  His smile faltered, and Holly experienced her first real misgivings. Why did mention of the police bother him? She’d been bluffing, but Matt’s reaction spurred her to dig out her cell phone.

  Matt sighed and jammed his hands in his pockets. “Go ahead…if it will put your mind at rest.”

  Holly dialed Robert’s cell and wasted no time with small talk. “Can you check a name out for me? Matt…” She looked to Matt, lifting her hand to invite him to fill in the missing last name.