Page 4 of The Great Reindeer Caper

“Sir, you need to lie down. EMTs are on the way—” she began.

“Through this—the reindeer blockade?” he inquired, amused. “This whole thing has been my fault. If I had just listened to the kid. He didn’t want to steal anything; he wanted evidence. And I . . . I just kept thinking that I had to keep that kind of a prize! If you guys are feds, please know that I’m not going to press charges.”

“You’re not?” Terence demanded, stunned. “But you were hurt—and it was my fault!”

“Hey, I just tripped, you know?” the shopkeeper said, sitting up carefully. “Okay, okay!” he said as Angela, still concerned, trying to help him. “I’ll go to the hospital. But I won’t be filing any charges.” He smiled suddenly. “Benedict, I’m sorry I was a jerk. And I don’t know why it took this for me to realize you were telling me the truth . . . but, it’s Christmas! Have the happiest Christmas that you can. You faced things in this world that were horrible and now . . . a little late, I want you to know that there’s goodness in the world, too.”

“There may be no charges from you on assault or attempted robbery,” Jackson said, wincing. “And I wish we had the authority to help. But this will be handled by the local police, I’m afraid. And even if we all claim that nothing happened here, there’s the fiasco with the reindeer!”

“But . . . but we didn’t do the reindeer!” Benedict said, and Angela believed him; he was far too emotional a wreck to be a decent liar.

“I swear to you, we had nothing to do with the reindeer!” Terence told them.

“But, Terence, you said Mr. Austin just went out but came back in—”

“Wait! We had nothing to do with the reindeer, I swear it!” Benedict cried. The door opened.

They were expecting the EMTs or even possibly the police.

It was neither.

A man in his forties, a ski-mask in place, had entered. He was waving a gun at them.

“I need it; I need it now. Buddy,” he said, referring to Jackson, “lower your weapon and toss it over this instant!”

“Why? I’m probably a better shot than you,” Jackson told him.

“Then I’ll shoot the kid while you shoot me. Will that do?” the man demanded.

Angela was still on the ground, apparently looking as if she’d been hurt, possibly thrown down, as well.

And what the newcomer didn’t know was that she had a Glock as well. But . . .

Was this guy serious? Ready to die—as long as he killed and took someone with him?

“Don’t let him shoot Benedict . . . or his stupid friend, either,” the ghost begged. “Please, please, let my son live!”

“You’ve come for the ivory piece, right?” Angela asked.

“I want it; I want it now,” the masked man told them.

“Mr. Austin will need to help us. And that means I need to help him up, and then we’ll go back for that wretched thing,” Angela said.

Still on the floor, Benedict let out a sob.

“Shut up, kid, or I will shoot you!” the masked man warned. “I’m not going anywhere; get the piece while I keep my gun trained right on him.”

“And I’ll be keeping my gun trained right on you!” Jackson promised.

Angela knew Jackson was ready to shoot the gun right out of the man’s hand, but he glanced at her and he knew.

They couldn’t risk the man getting a shot off.

Angela gave a little nod to Mr. Austin, helping him to his feet. “It’s in the back, in a case that needs to be opened,” the man told her as he came to his feet, leaning on her.

“Steady!” she said gently.

He nodded to her, apparently very aware of the danger of their situation.