A Very Saxby Christmas - chapter 7 snippet

The next thirty minutes were a blur of activity. We met the responders to my call at my gate. Emergency services arrived with impressive speed, given the conditions. Search and rescue teams fanned out, following the trail of disturbed snow where a vehicle had clearly left the road. Ransome and I led them to Sophie's parents SUV, rolled on its side in a ravine about a quarter mile from my property.

Both parents were alive, injured but stable. The father had a broken leg, the mother a concussion. They'd sent Sophie for help through a broken window of the SUV, because the doors of the vehicle were jammed tight from the rollover.

"You found our baby," the mother sobbed as paramedics loaded her into an ambulance. "Thank you, thank you".

"Your daughter found me," I replied honestly. "Or my dog found her. Either way, she's safe. That's what matters."

Deputy Sheriff Rutherford arrived on scene about twenty minutes later, having been notified of the rescue. He took one look at me standing in the snow in a terry robe and snow boots, Ransome at my side, and started laughing.

"Only you, Inspector Saxby. Only you would respond to an emergency in your bathrobe."

"I didn't exactly plan this."

"Clearly." He became more serious. "Good work, though. That little girl would have died of exposure if you hadn't found her. How did you know where she was?"

For the first time, I turned and looked back up my drive. The only footprints in the snow were those of Ransome and my own. No small child’s footprints. One more illusion in a night filled with them.

"Ransome found her. I just followed." How else could I explain it?

As the emergency vehicles departed, lights flashing through the snow-covered trees, Rutherford lingered. He studied me for a moment. "You doing okay out here? Really, okay?"

The question, the same one Wyndworth had asked, made me pause. Was I okay? I'd just experienced an impossible Christmas Eve gathering, solved a real emergency, and was standing in the snow in a terry bathrobe at four in the morning discussing my mental state with a deputy sheriff I'd only recently met.

"I think I'm better than I've been in a long time" I replied, surprising myself with the honesty.

Rutherford smiled. "Good. Get inside before you freeze. And Merry Christmas, Detective Chief Inspector Saxby."

"RETIRED!” I smiled and nodded to his words. “Merry Christmas, Deputy."