Although our personal trials may look insurmountable, help is available. God knows your troubles. Jesus will take your hand and lift you up. Just reach out. Ask Him. Trust Him.

  I can be reached easily by email, Val@ValerieHansen.com, or through my website, www.ValerieHansen.com.

  Be Blessed,

  Valerie Hansen

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  Christmas Hostage

  by Sharon Dunn

  ONE

  Even before the shouting and the woman’s scream, Laura Devin sensed that something was wrong in the lobby of First Federal Bank. The three seconds of silence signaled danger to her. The bright morning conversation between bank employees stopped abruptly, but it was what she saw on her computer screen seconds after logging on that told her they were in the middle of a bank robbery. All the alarms and cameras had been disabled, just like with the other small-town banks that had been robbed in the last two years.

  Her back was to the open door in the room next to the lobby, where she was working at a computer. When she whirled her chair around, she could only see the back of one of the tellers. Then she saw a flash of movement on the other side of the counter. One of the tellers screamed.

  Then the shouting.

  “This is a bank robbery. Do as I say, and no one will die here today.”

  Even if one of the tellers had time to push the silent alarm, it had been disabled. The police would not show up.

  Laura’s gaze jolted to her purse across the room, where her phone was. The door was open. If she went for it, they might see her. Closing the door even partway would alert the robbers to her presence that much faster. But she had no choice. She had to make that call.

  She sprinted across the carpet and grabbed her phone, pressing 911.

  “Hey, there’s somebody in that room. Get her.”

  The operator came on the line. “What is your emergency?”

  “Bank robbery—”

  A hand went over her mouth. She dropped the phone before the thief could grab it from her. He must have seen that she was making a call, or at least heard the phone when it landed on the carpet. And yet, he didn’t tell her to pick it up. Maybe it was still on and the operator could hear what was happening. Would the police be able to determine the location of the bank and get here in time?

  He whispered in her ear, the fabric of the ski mask he wore brushing over her cheek. “It’s going to be okay. Just do what they say.”

  His voice held a gentle, warm quality.

  “Hurry up.” The voice from the lobby was harsh and intense.

  Once the first robber, the one with the soft voice, had pulled her into the lobby, she took in the scene. Three other men in ski masks, all with guns. The two female bank employees were huddled together by the Christmas tree.

  The man with the harsh voice pointed the gun at Laura. “What is she doing here? There’s only supposed to be two of you.”

  Laura’s heart raced. If they found out she was a computer expert hired to beef up security in the bank because of the robberies, she’d be shot on the spot.

  The teller whose name was Ruby spoke up. “New hire. Just started today.”

  The other teller, Angela, an older woman, added between sobs and gasps, “We’ve been really busy because of Christmas.”

  These two women, whom she’d only met this morning, had just saved her life.

  The thief with the gentle voice still gripped her arm but didn’t point his gun at her. Something was really off about this guy. Like he didn’t want to be here doing what he was doing.

  “Over there with the other two.” The thief with the harsh voice seemed to be the one in charge. His build suggested that he was in his twenties or thirties, and in good shape.

  One of the other thieves stood by the door while he aimed the gun toward the two women. It was clear from the steadiness of his stance that if they moved, he would shoot to kill.

  The fourth thief paced the floor, clearly nervous. He was tall and lean. She couldn’t even guess at his age.

  Gentle Voice tugged her arm.

  “Hurry up. Just push her over there with the others,” said the thief in charge, waving his gun.

  Gentle Voice pressed on her back. “You heard him. Get over there.” He made his voice sound intense but not in a scary way.

  The leader stomped toward the other two tellers. “Which one of you knows the code to the vault?”

  Angela raised a trembling hand.

  The leader lifted his chin and waved his gun in such a way to signal that she needed to move. He pointed the gun at Ruby. “You need to open all the teller drawers. Don’t try anything or Joe here will shoot you.” He indicated the tall nervous man.

  Joe aimed his gun at Ruby as she stepped toward the counter.

  Laura thought she heard sirens.

  Angela took a step toward the vault. The leader grabbed the older woman’s arm and jerked her toward him.

  The sirens grew more distinct. Her call had gone through. The police were on their way.

  Joe turned his head toward the window, where approaching police cars could be seen. His voice filled with anguish. “Oh, no.”

  The leader pounded his fist on a counter. “How did this happen?”

  Laura saw that the robbers had placed another gun by the door. The robber with the steady hands holstered his handgun and picked up what looked to be an automatic rifle.

  The next minute went by in a turmoil-filled unfolding of violence and shouting.

  “To the van,” shouted the leader.

  Joe, the nervous one, headed toward the teller counter. “We’ve got to have something to show for our effort.” He jumped over the counter and grabbed some cash from a drawer that Ruby must have opened. He stuffed the money in his pocket.

  “Move, now,” the leader shouted.

  The man with the automatic rifle was already headed toward the doors.

  The police looked to be about a block away. The intensity of the sirens surrounded Laura as her heart pounded. She could see flashing lights through the lobby window.

  The leader grabbed Laura and pressed the gun to her temple. “You’re our life insurance policy.”

  “No hostages,” said Gentle Voice.

  “Shut up,” said the leader. “Who’s in charge here?”

  The man with the rifle took the lead as they moved toward the door. He opened fire before the police cars could pull into the parking lot. Lights flashing, three police cars stopped. The officers got out, taking cover behind their vehicles. Shots were exchanged and one of the robbers cried out in pain.

  An officer shouted, “They’ve got a hostage. Hold your fire.”

  Snapshots of the street, the police and the other bank robbers flashed past Laura as she was dragged across the parking lot. Cold winter wind whipped across her skin. The robber’s tight grip on her arm pressed on a nerve, sending pain through to her shoulder and making her want to pull away.

  The van doors were flung open, and she was tossed inside. Two of the other robbers jumped in the back with her before the doors slammed shut. Her stomach pressed against the cold metal of the van floor. And then, the van was rolling at a high speed while the gunfire resumed.

  The van zigzagged through small-town streets just coming alive with morning traffic and then down several alleyways. The man with the gentle voice and the one named Joe were in the back with her while the leader and Steady Hand sat up front.

  “She’s no longer useful to us. Let’s ditch her,” Gentle Voice said through gritted teeth as he pressed his hand against his shirt. She noticed it was stained with blood.

  “You’re hurt.” Laura leaned toward him.

  The answer to Gentle Voice’s suggestion came from the leader after he checked the rearview mirror and glanced out the side window. “We can’t stop. Cops are still on our tail.”

  The van continued to careen wildly as Steady Hand drove at a high speed.

  Laura leaned toward the injured man. “Did you get shot?” All she saw was his brown eyes.

  “It’s nothing.” It was clear from the sharp, quick breaths he took that he was in pain.

  Joe rocked back and forth and then pulled off his ski mask. “You said easy money. You said in and out.”

  Joe was probably barely out of his teens. He had acne scars and wild hair that stuck out at odd angles.

  The leader turned slightly. “You took your mask off. Now she can identify you.”

  “What does it matter? This whole thing has gone south. The mask makes me sweat.”

  The leader turned back to face the windshield, talking under his breath. “I don’t know why things went sideways like that. Gotta figure that out. Maybe we were set up.”

  Laura locked on to Gentle Voice’s gaze.

  He said nothing. He must have seen her make that call. Why was he protecting her?

  The van increased speed. Though she could not see much, it was clear that they were on a country road. She wrapped her arms around her body. Even with the van heater on, she was cold without a winter coat.

  Ten minutes passed. The road became rougher, jostling her and the other two men on the van floor.

  She listened in terror to the conversation between the driver and the leader.

  “We lost them. I think we can dump her now. It’s a long walk back to town,” said Steady Hand.

  “She can identify Joe. Who knows what else she can tell the police. We have to get rid of her...permanently,” said the leader.

  Her breath caught and her heart pounded.

  Gentle Voice groaned in pain. Almost involuntarily, she drew closer to him. “Are you okay?”

  “This gunshot wound is worse than I thought. I need medical help.” He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. “Lie to save your life.”

  It took her only a second to realize what he was suggesting. “I put myself through college as an EMT. I can take care of his wound.”

  The leader turned around in his seat. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Do what you got to do to keep him alive.”

  “Might as well take this off.” The driver pulled off his ski mask. Steady Hand had an abundance of dark hair and a neck tattoo. He rubbed his face. “That thing makes me itch.”

  “Good idea.” The leader took his mask off as well, revealing his blond hair. “Once she’s no longer useful we’re going to have to do away with her, anyway.”

  Her heartbeat whooshed in her ears as she tried to fight off paralyzing numbness. Gentle Voice had bought her some time, but she knew she did not have long to live.

  * * *

  Applying pressure to his injured shoulder and pectoral muscle, undercover FBI Agent Hollis Pryce sucked in a breath and drew his shoulder blades together as pain shot through his body. Maybe he was hurt worse than he realized. His winter coat had been unzipped when the bullet grazed him. He could see the exit wound in the fabric of his upper sleeve. A round circle with down feathers sticking out.

  The dark-haired woman rubbed the forearm of his uninjured shoulder as if to offer comfort. His mind thought of a hundred things as the van wound its way deep into the Montana mountains.

  After nearly a year of work to get close to the bank robbers, this was the first time he’d been invited to be a part of the heist. It wasn’t these robbers Hollis was ultimately after. They would be easy enough to arrest and then other robbers would take their place. The only way to end the heists was to find out who was behind the robberies. Who was the man doing all the planning? It seemed the only way to do that was to go deep undercover, win the trust of the robbers and hopefully find out who was in direct communication with the mastermind.

  The woman beside him must have had time to call the police. It had been an impossible choice. If he had outed her, she would have been shot right away. The police showing up had meant the heist would not go as planned. As with the other robberies, the intel for this one had been impeccable, which made Hollis think someone on the inside fed the crew information and planned the robberies. In the last two years, there had been eight of them in small towns across Montana, Wyoming and Idaho.

  The dark-haired woman gazed at him. “I can take your mask off if you like. Everyone else has.”

  “I can get it.” He took his good hand off the shoulder wound only to feel a new level of pain. He clamped it back in place. How much blood had he lost? He’d been a medic in the army before joining the Bureau. He assumed the bullet had passed through muscle and not hit a vital organ. He’d be in much worse shape if it had. The wound needed to be treated, but right now he just wanted to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. He leaned his head forward. “Maybe you should take it off.”

  She pulled off the knitted ski mask.

  He thought he saw trust in her eyes. How had this gone so wrong as to involve a civilian? He had only delayed her death. In the brief time he’d gotten to know these men, he knew that the man in the driver’s seat, the one who called himself Soldier, would not bat an eyelash at killing someone.

  None of the men used their real names. Part of the genius planning of the robberies. If any of them were caught, they wouldn’t be able to give much information to the police about the others.

  He and Joe were the new recruits. It had taken a year of gaining the trust of the criminal underworld in Wade County before he finally hit pay dirt and got connected with the man who vetted potential thieves for the robberies, the man sitting in the passenger seat who called himself Branson. Other agents had been planted in other rural areas with no results. To these men, he was Derrick, a petty thief who had hitched west from Chicago. Just another criminal looking for a big score.

  Though the crew was never the same four guys, Soldier and Branson had given away that they had participated in at least half the robberies.

  Joe continued to run his hands through his hair and rock back and forth, while the woman remained close to Hollis, a look of concern etched across her face.

  What a mess this had become. There had to be a way to help this woman escape and not blow his cover. But right now, trying to manage the pain made it hard to think.

  The van came to a stop. They were at their hideout.

  “We need to talk.” Branson addressed his comment to Soldier, and he turned to the back. “Joe, help the woman get Derrick inside.” He lowered his voice half an octave. “Make sure she doesn’t get any ideas.”

  Joe slid open the side door and jumped out. Sweat dripped into Hollis’s eyes. He could discern the evergreens and the first building of the abandoned resort that the thieves had established as their hideout a day before. They were miles from civilization. Cell phones didn’t work up here, but there was little chance of the police finding them in such a forgotten place.

  The woman got out as well and then leaned back inside to address Hollis. “Can you scoot to the edge here and then maybe he can get under your good arm?” She nodded toward Joe.

  “No way,” said Joe, pulling his gun from his waistband and pointing it at the woman. “I got my orders. You’ll just try something. You carry him.”

  “Let me get over there first,” said Hollis.

  He pressed his lips together to keep from groaning, while with some effort, he scooted toward her. He noticed her glancing all around, maybe assessing the possibility of escape, or just taking in the unexpected surroundings. The resort had been huge in its time but was now overgrown and crumbling.

  The dilapidated sight of what had once been a main meeting house surrounded by smaller cabins was probably a surprise. There was a concrete building with half the roof missing that had once housed showers.

  From somewhere in the camp Hollis could hear the raised voices of Branson and Soldier. He ignored them as he lifted his good arm so the woman could get under him for support. He tried not to lean too heavily on her as they walked, with Joe following off to the side, still holding the gun.

  Hollis indicated the larger building. His cot and belongings were by a crumbling fireplace. Parts of the ceiling had caved in, leaving gaping holes where light shone in. Fallen beams slanted across the floor and everything was covered with debris. He’d chosen to set up camp in the part of the building that looked the most stable by the fireplace. Building a fire helped keep the area warmer.

  The woman helped him sit down on the cot while Joe kept an eye on her. His bed had never felt so good. Even the slightest movement caused him pain.

  “You’ll probably want to lie down,” said the woman. “Let me lift your legs and you can lie back.”

  Once his feet were stretched out on the bed, she removed his boots, placed his sleeping bag on him up to the waist and then hovered over him.

  “You’re the doctor. So treat him,” said Joe.

  “I never said I was a doctor.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as tension filled the space.

  Say something.

  Hollis feared their ruse would be found out, and she would be killed immediately if she didn’t sound like she knew what she was talking about.

  She lifted her chin. “I’ll need to disinfect the wound.” She turned to face Joe. “Do you have anything that would work for that? Alcohol will do in a pinch.”

  He said a prayer of thanks that she could think on her feet. She’d found a way to get Joe out of the room.