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      Kidnapped at Christmas

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Holiday Secrets

      Jill Sorenson

      For my daughters

      Chapter 1

      Brian adjusted the red stocking cap, trying to cover his dark brown hair.

      He’d bought the costume on a whim a few years ago with the intention to play Santa for his sister’s children. Due to unfortunate circumstances, it had never been used. The cheap red suit came with an itchy white beard, but no wig. His own black rubber boots, which he used to wade through concrete, completed the look.

      Leaving the hat askew, he stepped back and studied his reflection. He needed a haircut. His costume was “one size fits all” and poorly made. The fuzzy white cuffs of the jacket didn’t reach his wrists, the pants were too baggy, and the black plastic belt gaped at his waist. He looked like Homeless Santa.

      He grabbed a pillow from the mattress on the floor and stuffed it under his jacket, fashioning a jolly paunch. There, that was better. As he headed outside, he picked up the bag of gifts and put the Dear Santa letter in his front pocket.

      At 9:00 a.m., the sun was already blazing. It was going to be a hot Christmas in Oceanside, California. There wasn’t a cloud in the perfect blue sky. Brian had spent most of the morning on his surfboard, and the waves were in fine form. He might go back later for an afternoon session.

      His pulse kicked up a notch as he approached the house next door. He hardly knew his neighbors and wasn’t sure what they would think of his getup. The single mom who lived there had never even spoken to him, and her daughters were quiet as mice.

      If the girls hadn’t left a letter in Brian’s mailbox last week, he wouldn’t have considered buying them gifts. When he found the envelope, addressed to the North Pole, he’d opened it to investigate. At first he’d assumed that the girls had mistaken his mailbox for their own, because the two were side by side. Then he read the letter and realized that they hadn’t wanted their mother to see it.

      The girls had penned the note to Santa in simple words and neat sentences. Judging by her careful signature, Mandy was the older daughter. Her sister, Alyssa, had scrawled her name at the bottom of the page in pink crayon. They asked for a couple of moderately priced toys that “Mommy can’t buy this year.”

      Brian could easily afford the extra gifts; he had very few family members to shop for. But the last item on the list was something that no one could deliver—not even Santa. He’d been touched by the request and felt a powerful compulsion to make his neighbors’ holiday a little brighter.

      They could all use some cheering up.

      Whistling the tune to “Jingle Bells,” he knocked on the front door. “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas,” he called out, preparing to leave the wrapped presents on the stoop. Before he had a chance, the door swung open.

      Mandy and Alyssa stood there in red dresses, their dark hair shining. Twin expressions of wonder lit up their well-scrubbed faces.

      “Santa,” the younger girl breathed, fooled by his outfit.

      Brian winked at her. “Have you girls been good this year?”

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