Her Mistletoe Protector(25)

Joey didn't answer but suddenly there was a loud crash from the direction of the bathroom. Without hesitation, she rushed over. "Joey?" She knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you okay in there?"

"The smell," she heard Joey whimper. Concerned, she opened the door, grateful there was no lock.

Joey was huddled on the floor, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. The medicine cabinet door was open and it took a minute for the harsh scent of aftershave to register, because she was focused on the smears of blood on the sink. "Joey, what happened?"                       
       
           



       

"Don't tell Nick," he whimpered.

She tried to figure out what happened. "Don't tell Nick what?"

"I cut myself with the knife," Joey managed to blurt out between sobs. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want Nick to be disappointed in me."

Her heart wrenched in her chest, and she knelt beside Joey and pulled him into her arms. "Nick won't be disappointed in you, sweetie. Let me see the cut."

He held out his hand, and she could see the slim cut along the pad of his thumb. There was a small bit of blood and she needed to examine the cut to make sure it wasn't so deep it needed stitches.

"Let's get that cleaned up, okay?" she suggested calmly.

"I don't like the smell," Joey said again.

She frowned and turned on the faucet, sticking his thumb beneath the gently running water. The broken bottle of stinky aftershave was lying on the floor, the liquid seeping into the wooden floor. "What happened, Joey?"

"I was looking for a Band-Aid," he said, sniffling back his tears. "And I accidently knocked it over."

"Is everything okay?" Nick asked from the doorway.

Joey's big green eyes once again filled with tears. "I'm sorry, Nick."

"Hey now, don't cry." Nick sent her a pleading look. "I don't care about that bottle of aftershave, it was old anyway."

But Joey shook his head. "No, I'm sorry about the knife," he said. "I was being careful like you said, but it slipped and I didn't want you to know I cut myself."

"I'm not mad at you, Joey, so don't worry about it, okay?" Nick flashed her son a reassuring smile.

Rachel was glad to see that the cut wasn't that deep, and she held Joey's hand under the warm water as she rummaged in the open medicine cabinet. "Do you have any tape and gauze I can use to keep it clean and dry?" she asked.

"We still have Jonah's first-aid kit in the kitchen," Nick assured her. She relaxed and nodded, remembering how she'd used it to change the dressing on Nick's wound.

"All right, let me put a towel or something around his thumb," she muttered. "Keep your hand in the water, okay?"

Joey nodded and did as she asked, while she searched for something to use. She found an old but clean hand towel in dark brown and figured the bloodstains wouldn't be too noticeable. "Okay, here, let's wrap this around your hand."

Joey sniffled again but allowed her to wrap the towel around his thumb. He turned toward the door, but his foot slipped in the slight puddle on the floor, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust.

She led the way into the kitchen, getting Joey settled in one of the kitchen chairs on the opposite side from where they'd been working on the timeline, while Nick brought over the first-aid kit.

"There's some triple antibiotic cream in here, too," he said, handing over the supplies.

"Good thing." She put a dollop of ointment over the cut and then carefully wrapped it in gauze and tapped it securely in place. "There, how's that?" she asked when she was finished.

Joey nodded. "Can you make the smell go away?" he asked.

She didn't quite understand why he was so upset about the smelly aftershave. It actually wasn't awful, the brand was well-known and obviously had remained popular over the years. She exchanged a perplexed glance at Nick. "Ah, sure, I'll clean up the bathroom floor, okay?"

"Are you hungry?" she heard Nick ask, as she walked down the hall to clean up the mess in the bathroom. "I can heat up some soup."

She filled the sink with soapy water and took yet another hand towel and did her best to clean up the spilled aftershave. But even after she finished, the scent still lingered.

There wasn't much she could do other than try to cut through the scent with a stronger cleaning agent.

She went back into the kitchen and found Nick heating up some chicken noodle soup for Joey. "Do you have any bleach or vinegar?" she asked in a low tone.

He grimaced. "I doubt it, but check in the pantry."                       
       
           



       

Calling the rough wooden open shelves a pantry was a bit of a misnomer, and she examined the contents but couldn't find anything she could use to help eliminate the odor.

"Don't worry," Nick said reassuringly. "I'm sure it will fade over time."

"No!" Joey shouted. "I don't like the smell! Make it go away!"

She rushed to Joey's side, wrapping her arms around her son. "Shh, sweetie, it's okay."

"Wait," Nick said, coming over to put a hand on her shoulder. "Does the smell remind you of something, Joey?" he asked.

Realization dawned slowly, and she pulled away just enough to look down at her son's face. Joey gazed up at her and then looked over at Nick. He didn't speak, but he slowly nodded his head yes.

Her heart clenched in her chest as the implication sank deep.

"What does the smell remind you of, Joey?" Nick asked gently. "Can you tell me?"

There was a long silence before Joey answered. "The bad man," he whispered.

"The bad man who put a hood over your head and carried you away after the crash?" Nick asked.

This time, her son shook his head no. "The other bad man. I didn't see him, but he spoke in a mean voice and he smelled bad. Like the bottle I accidently spilled in the bathroom."

The second bad man? For a moment Rachel couldn't move. Could barely comprehend what Joey meant.

Then she raised her head and locked gazes with Nick. And read the truth reflected in his eyes.

Forcing her to acknowledge that Joey had been somewhere near the man who'd arranged the kidnapping. Thinking back, she realized that their initial theory must have been correct. Morales had dumped the black truck shortly after the crash, catching a ride with someone else. The man who'd ordered the kidnapping in the first place.

Which meant her son might be able to recognize the voice of the man who'd masterminded the entire operation.

Once they found him.





THIRTEEN

Nick tore his gaze from Rachel's when he heard the soup boiling. He rushed to the stove to remove the saucepan from the electric burner. "Soup's ready," he said.

Rachel shook her head, as if there was no way she'd be able to eat, but he knew they had to try to keep things normal, for Joey's sake. He filled several bowls with the steaming soup and carried them over to the table in two trips.

"Try to eat something, Joey," he urged. "You don't have to think about the bad man anymore."

"But I can still smell him," Joey whined.

"Try the soup, and I'll clean the floor again," Rachel murmured.

"After you eat something," Nick said, gesturing to the empty seat. She put a hand over her stomach but sat next to her son. He gave Rachel credit for trying, when she leaned over her bowl. "Hmm, smells good."

Joey leaned over his own soup and took a tentative sniff. The aroma of chicken soup seemed to appease him enough to take a sip. "Tastes good," he admitted.

Rachel took a sip, too. "Yes, it does."

They hadn't prayed, so Nick said a quick, silent prayer of thanks before taking a spoonful of his soup. The three of them sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed the simple meal. When Joey had finished, Rachel pushed away and carried her bowl to the sink. As soon as she'd rinsed her dishes, she returned to the bathroom.

Nick scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, knowing that no matter how many times Rachel scrubbed the wooden floor, the scent of Wally's aftershave would linger.

In Joey's mind more so than in reality.

He quickly washed the dishes, while Joey went back to sit in front of the fire. The sad expression on the child's face made his heart ache. Sophie's life had been cut short by the car crash, but she'd always been a happy child. Loved school and had lots of friends. Both he and Becky had doted on their daughter. The thought of Sophie suffering the way Joey had made his chest hurt.

No matter how important this timeline was, he simply couldn't ignore Joey. Rachel returned to the room, looking dejected as she dropped onto the sofa beside her son.

"Hey, Joey, how would you like me to read the story of Christmas to you from the Bible?" he asked.