Christmas at Sinners Part 2 of 3 by Rolynn Anderson

Christmas at Sinners Part 2, by Rolynn Anderson

Mitch Newton's mood improved as soon as the woman strolled into the bar. Tall and model-slim, she wore a filmy t-shirt, tucked into long, baggy khaki pants. Her carelessly trussed-up hair and casual clothing had Mitch imagining she'd arrived for a quirky photo-shoot. Every single man in Sinners watched her enter the saloon and slip into a chair at the bar, guessing she’d order a chardonnay. When the bartender delivered a highball with an inch of amber liquid in it, Mitch had to smile. She sipped her drink and observed the people in the room by looking into the mirror behind the bar, surprising him further. To say she didn’t belong in Sinners was an understatement; the fact she seemed unfazed by not fitting in intrigued the hell out of him.

Better? Her presence gave him the hope he’d been seeking for hours.

“I was praying for a distraction,” Mitch said, climbing onto a stool two seats away from her. “And you are definitely a distraction, ma’am.”

She said nothing, but waggled her finger at the bartender for water.

“In the Samaritan spirit, I’ll sit here so you don’t get hit on by nineteen guys.” He took a swallow from his bottle of beer. “Don’t suppose you’ve got a room.”

“Nope. No vacancy. Internet and phones are down. I need a tow more than a room. You?”

“Same. I got stuck about a quarter mile down the road.”

“Did you try to get help from the men in this bar?”

“Yup. No luck.” Mitch squinted at her. “There’s more to your story.”

“I’m marooned by the storm.” She stared at him with enormous doe-brown eyes, luminous in the subtle light of the lounge. 

“You going to tell me what else you’re doing here?”

She sipped her drink.

“You’re wearing the wrong shoes. Service grade. Built for kicking a perp in the balls. Your pants are regulation ranger. Bet you have a gun in your sock.”

Her cheeks reddened, charming him. He pointed to her belt. “You’re in the habit of touching the place where your holster should be.”

She glared at him. “As if your ‘tells’ aren’t obvious. It’s plenty warm in here yet you’re wearing a jacket. I presume your gun’s in a shoulder holster.”

“Touché.”

She swallowed water and tapped his arm. “Takes one to know one. I’m a new L.E. at Rainier. Low on the totem pole, pulling the holiday shift. Why are you in Ashford on Christmas Eve? You local law? I’m told they’re helping us with our case.”

With the shake of his head he said, “Washington’s my territory. Private Investigator-bounty hunter.”

“Your perp’s in here?”

“Maybe. Told someone he was ‘going to paradise.’ My take was Paradise Road, highway 706. Name’s Freddy Canto, a small-time crim whose bail-jump made his capture worth $10,000. Money I need for my sister's medical bills.

“Noble cause.”

“I heard Canto was hanging out in Enumclaw, heading south to look for easy money and a lay, so that put me at Sinners. I have a fuzzy surveillance pic of the guy, but he’s known to use disguises. I’ve talked to everyone who might fit his description, but I don’t think he’s in this bar, damn it.”

“I’m looking for an armed robber. A 10-32. Maybe an 11-24. He grabbed a couple thou at Mt. Rainier visitor center.”

He nodded, eyes on his beer bottle.

“Is Santa lurking nearby?”

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Just think, if you and I are after the same guy and we catch him tonight, Santa says we’re nice.”

Mitch shook his head. “Need the money more than the kudo.”

“Obligations.” She scanned the mirror. “You have a dossier on your man? We could help each other.”

“My perp's medium height and medium build. Barely a southern accent and a right-eye-twitch when he’s tense. Bright fellow and a good actor. Meticulous about changing his look, including clothes, hair, mustache. He’ll wear make-up and he favors old guy disguises.”

“Better intel than I have. My UNSUB wore a mask and a hoodie. Careful not to show anything. He could be most men in this room.”

“Half of the guys here could be Canto.”

“You know his ride…his car make?”

“Nope. What are you looking for?”

“A Camry. Covered in snow somewhere.”

Mitch drew in the strawberry scent of her. Eyes the color of jasper, mesmerizing. Her focus and fearlessness pleased him…and made his gut hurt. “We’re a team, then?”

She smiled for the first time and her face was transformed. Mitch gaped at her beauty, his words gone. Hope gone. He wasn’t a match for this woman.

Her expression morphed to irritated and Mitch swore the temperature around them dropped a few degrees.

“A strategy, Mitch?”

“Uh. I…” What was he thinking? Partnering with a woman like Sable was a pipe dream. 

"Mitch?“

He struggled to offer a plan.  Any plan. "Uh...I..." Thoughts of her smile helped him find the words. "One by one, you visit the men in this room. Smile first, explain your plight, ask for help.”

“What kind of help?”

Taking a swallow of beer, Mitch said, “You need a bed for tonight.”

Sable jerked back on the stool. “Instead of a tow?”

“You're looking for a conversation starter, not a stopper. Even if they could tow you, not one of these guys is foolish enough to try it until the morning plows come through.”

"True."

“Ask for a bed. No strings. Kindness of their hearts. As you beg, you're alert to guilt and disguises.”

She frowned. “And what are you doing while I look for your twitchy, disguised guy? What about my UNSUB?”

Mitch shrugged. “I’ve got a description for my man; might as well start with him. And like you said, we may be looking for the same guy. I’ll sit here, drink my beer, and use the mirror to watch for the reactions of each man you question. My smile isn’t nearly as powerful as yours.”

Sable was quiet.

“Do you need an incentive?”

She scoffed. “I’m a ranger. It’s my job to catch criminals.”

“Let's fatten the pot.”

“With what?”

Mitch grinned as he scrubbed at his forehead. “If we work in tandem, we'll collar a bad guy and snag us a bed for the night.”

Thanks for reading Part 2 of my story. Tomorrow comes the conclusion for "Christmas at Sinners."  

Christmas at Sinners Part 1 of 3 by Rolynn Anderson

Christmas at Sinners-Part 1 By Rolynn Anderson

She peered through the snow-spattered windshield at the neon sign and hoped like hell there was room at the inn. Did the sign say ‘Inn’? Maybe. The snow fell so thickly that her windshield wipers stalled and she could barely distinguish the road from the shoulder, much less read snow-draped marques. Worse? She’d only made it to Ashford, Washington, when her destination was Elbe.

Looking for an UNSUB, an unknown suspect, in a surprise snowstorm, was a challenge for L.A. native, Sable Chisholm. She was a Law Enforcement Ranger at Mt. Rainier National Park, a newly assigned L.E., and her first job in terrible weather was to find a guy who’d robbed the tourist center. A masked man waved a gun at two terrified clerks, took money, but didn’t fire his pistol. Might have taken off in a gray Camry. No license number. Where the hell did he go?

Since it was eight o’clock on Christmas Eve, only a few rangers were on duty. Chief Randle had sent Sable and four other L.E’s out before the storm hit, singly in their Tahoe trucks, each assigned different towns in search of the gray sedan. Local cops were on the hunt, too, but they were understaffed this holiday season. Now stuck in traffic in Ashford, Sable got orders via her car radio: “Stand down. 10-13. Wait out the storm. Report your location.”

Sable was not an agent who liked to wait, and she wasn’t afraid to skid down slick roads looking for a criminal. In fact, if her boss hadn’t ordered her to desist, she would have continued her pursuit, because an on-duty brain injury made her a relentless ranger. She’d been poisoned a year ago by carbon monoxide seeping into a motel room where she and her partner ran a stakeout. Billy had died; Sable’s amygdala, the part of the brain controlling fear and flight/fight responses, was damaged. Weeks of acting out, absent fear, had ruined her reputation in L.A. Months of work with a therapist got her back to active duty and assigned to Mt. Rainier.

The chief’s orders were firm and since a layer of ice under the snow-pack was yanking her car all over the road, she gave in. She might be alarmless, but she’d learned how to check recklessness. “If I’m stopping; let’s hope the perp will do the same.” Sable turned right, sliding through the parking lot to a slot in front of the motel. Other cars, swathed with snow so they looked like moguls on a ski slope, rested in silence on her right and left. Was one of the autos a Camry belonging to the robber? No way to tell.

She pulled on boots and plowed through two feet of snow. Even though she kicked piled-up snow away from the door, opening it took all her strength. As she shook flakes off her ranger hat and brushed off her shoulders, she was surprised to be standing in a dark vestibule, walls painted black, the room lit with a giant pink neon sign: ‘SINNERS.’

“Oops,” she said at the same time a burly guy emerged, his shiny baldhead colored peach by the neon.

“Ranger,” he said in a not-happy-to-see-her tone. “What’s up?”

“Law Enforcement Ranger Chisholm. You are?”

“Spike. Taylor. Partner of Sinners.”

She winced. “I thought there might be room in the ‘inn,’ until I read the whole title of your establishment. I suspect this is more than a motel, or…perhaps, less?”

“No vacancies at Sinners.”

She peeked behind the entry wall. A smoky bar, full of men. The smell of French fries tinged with beer and Pine Sol wafted her way, reminding her she’d skipped dinner. Her stomach growled and Spike’s eyebrow went up at the sound.

“Where are the women?” Sable asked.

Spike’s expression tightened. “Asleep? Watching The Christmas Story in their rooms?”

“We’ve got a criminal on the loose, with a gun,” she said. “Nobody can drive these roads, not even a desperate man. Which guys came in recently?”

“These men are here for the same reason you are. All but a couple regulars showed up in the last hour.”

She surveyed the foyer and considered the lounge she’d seen behind the wall. “You retrofitted the motel caretaker’s house into a bar, motel rooms attached.”

“Full service on Highway 706.”

“Right now I don’t care what’s going on in your motel rooms unless my guy’s in one of them. He robbed the park visitors’ center, armed.”

He stared at her.

Sable was quiet for a moment, considering her options. She couldn’t leave the premises because of the crappy weather and neither could the criminal if he was hanging out in the bar or in one of the rooms. Her cop feelers hinted her UNSUB was here, but how was she going to find him?

A small Christmas tree artfully designed out of coat hangers, stood on the counter, its tiny lights blinking green, urging a soft strategy. She stuffed her hat on a shelf under the tree. Next came her Kevlar vest and equipment belt. Once she’d tucked her gun into her sock, she said, “Don’t touch my belt.”

“Wait,” Spike said, eyes rounding when she began to unbutton her ranger-issue shirt.

Sable threw the shirt in the shelf and straightened her t-shirt. “You keep your mouth shut about who I am or I close your business for months. Today, I don’t want you, I want my gun-toting UNSUB.”

Spike nodded slowly, open-mouthed.

She swept up her shoulder-length hair and crunched it into a hair clip. “I’m going in there. Story is: My car’s stuck in a snow bank and I need a tow.”

He nodded again. “I won’t say who you are, but I’m not going to save your ass in there.”

“No problem.” A smile, then: “Let’s see what songs a room full of trapped drunk men will sing.”

Spike flipped a hand at her. “Have at it, ranger.”

Thanks for reading Part 1 of my Christmas story. Part 2 comes tomorrow...stay tuned!