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Snow Globe Secrets

By Laura Thomas

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Merry Christmas to me.
Alexis James smoothed the cherry-red ribbon on the Christmas gift—the one she always purchased for herself—and her heart thawed for the briefest of moments. She spun from the counter and marched through the bookstore, open cashmere coat flowing in her wake as her fingernails tapped a staccato beat on the precious paper package. Ignoring a gaggle of gossiping customers, Alexis lifted her chin, tugged the doorknob, and exited to the familiar jangle of silver bells overhead.
A whoosh of frigid air.
A crack of gunfire.
A squeal of tires.
Alexis dropped her gift and sank to the frozen ground. Her ears rang, and her pulse pounded.
God, help us.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop spinning, and then muffled shouts split the silence.
“Alexis?” Her sister’s strangled voice drifted out from the bookstore.
“Carla?” The weight of her sister’s hand lay heavy on Alexis’s shoulder. “I’m okay.” Alexis took a few seconds to orient herself and covered Carla’s hand with her own. She was all right, wasn’t she?
Letting out a slow, shuddering breath, Alexis straightened on unsteady legs and shook her coat sleeve free of glass shards from the broken storefront window. She checked the street to the left. The vehicle was long gone.
“Thank goodness. When I heard the shot—” Carla enveloped Alexis in a tight hug. The sobs of a child sounded from the store. “I need to check on the customers. Come with me?”
Alexis stood glued to the spot, uncharacteristically unsure of what to do. “Go ahead. Give me a minute.”
“Don’t be long. You’ll catch cold out here.” Carla rushed back inside.
Someone wailed. Alexis shivered. Was this how people felt in war times when bombs dropped? Maybe she’d read one too many WWII novels of late. She shook the fuzziness from her mind and turned her attention to the glass-littered sidewalk to her right, in front of the Happily Ever After bookstore.
A man’s limp form lay face down on the snow, and a gasp escaped Alexis’s lips. “No.” Her wrapped package had landed next to him. She spotted a young couple across the street who stood gawking at the spectacle. “Call 9-1-1. Now.”
The police station was two minutes away, but someone had to take charge. Alexis yelled through the smashed window. “Everyone stay where you are. Don’t panic.”
She stepped over to the prone body and crouched down next to him. No movement. And now, the white snow beneath him was stained red in an oval-shaped patch by his head. Please let him be alive. The red ribbon unfurled from her package and mingled with the blood. All the red and the white… this was not good. “Sir?”
Nothing.
Only the garbled voices of bystanders and customers and—where was the ambulance?
She pressed trembling fingers onto the side of his neck and closed her eyes. Yes. A rhythm. Surely, if the window smashed, the bullet—and only one shot was lodged in her memory— must have merely grazed the man. Unless the bullet went straight through him…
Alexis knew better than to try to move an injured body, so she placed a hand on his broad back to let him know he wasn’t alone. She would want someone to reassure her of that.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here. You’re not alone.” Her fingers tingled. His coat was high-end. She knew the feel of a decent cashmere wool blend, and this man, she guessed to be in his mid-thirties, had taste.
“Alexis? What are you doing?”
Her head snapped up at the sound of David’s voice. Officer Baxter; he was in uniform.
He stomped over stray slivers of glass with heavy boots and offered his hand. “You okay? Are you hurt?”
“Where’s the ambulance? This guy is in bad shape.” Alexis detested the tremor in her voice. “I’m fine, but he’s obviously not.”
“I’ve got this.” A young woman with blonde, frizzy hair ushered Alexis from the cold ground and toward David. “I’m a paramedic. Off duty, but I’ll take over until the ambulance arrives.”
“Thanks,” David spoke for them both.
Alexis glanced back into the store, where Carla and two other police officers attempted to rally the shaken cluster of customers. Who could have imagined the possibility of a shooting in Hollybrook a week before Christmas?
“Alexis?” David took her by the shoulders and lowered his voice. “Do you need to get checked out at the hospital?” He picked a piece of glass from her long hair.
“I told you, I’m fine. It was a shock, that’s all.” She shrugged free from his hands. “I don’t remember when something like this last happened in our town. A shooting?” She collected her leather purse from the ground and gave it a good shake. “I don’t think the man is a local. What do you think—drug-related?” Drug money might explain the coat...
“That’s exactly what we’ll investigate.” David tugged a little notebook from his jacket pocket and slid a pen from its spine. “Can you tell me what you saw? The 9-1-1 caller said there was a gunshot, and someone drove off in a hurry. Did you get a look at the vehicle or anything at all?”
Alexis squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Red? Maybe a flash of red as I heard the tires peel away? I can’t be certain. It’s pretty dark out here already, even with the streetlamps on.” She bit her lower lip. “I’m really not sure. It happened so fast. And then there was the red on the snow… the ribbon, the blood…” Her knees buckled.
David caught her before she collapsed.
Alexis’s chin trembled. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“Hey, witnessing a shooting is a big deal. Probably a good idea to speak to someone about it.”
Alexis James did not need help. And she did not need David the Protector. She regained her balance, even in her high-heeled leather boots, and pulled away from his strong arms. “I told you I don’t need a doctor.”
He raised his brows so they disappeared beneath the peak of his RCMP hat.
“Oh, you mean a therapist?” Alexis placed a hand on one hip. “I think not.”
“Or maybe talk with your little sister?” David nodded at Carla as she hurried toward them, worry etched in her chocolate-brown eyes.
“How’s that poor man?” Carla’s face paled as the ambulance pulled up. “Do we know who he is?”
Alexis peered around David’s six-foot-four frame. “Hard to tell until they put him on the stretcher, but I don’t recognize him.” She shivered as the stranger was moved with caution, neck brace in place. That was something—at least he really was breathing, and it wasn’t her imagination. Alexis was a realtor, not a doctor. “There. I think he moved his arm. He must be coming around. He was definitely out cold.”
“Let’s move on, folks. Nothing to see here.” David pushed back the curious crowd now forming along the sidewalk. “You’d think Christmas shoppers would be anxious to get on with their business.”
“In this town?” Alexis gritted her teeth. “Are you kidding? They live for all the gossip they can get.” She would know.
David ambled off with his notebook, and Carla reached for Alexis’s hand. She gave it a squeeze. “You’re freezing. Why don’t you come on inside the store? We may be missing a window, but it’s still warmer than standing out here.” She bent down and retrieved Alexis’s dropped package. “Oh, sis, your snow globe.” She shook the box, and the rattle confirmed the broken contents. “It’s shattered. I’m so sorry. I know this was super expensive.”
Alexis drew back her shoulders. “No big deal.” The snow globe was a big deal. No one understood why. “I’ll come inside in a minute. You go ahead.” She enveloped her sweet sister in another hug. Life was as fragile as her snow globe. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Carla kissed her cheek. “Don’t be long. I have to make some calls and get this window fixed. Old Mr. Wiebe is going to be heartbroken knowing his beloved bookstore was a crime scene.”
“Coming through.” The paramedics wheeled the stretcher toward the waiting ambulance, and Alexis craned her neck to check on the victim. She couldn’t make out his entire face as it was partially covered by the neck brace, but he was handsome. No doubt about that. She blinked. He looked familiar somehow.
Who was this intriguing man—and why on earth did someone in Hollybrook want him dead?

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