“I’m fine,” I insist, though my legs still feel like overcooked noodles and my pubic bone feels very bruised. “Everett and Gabe are out there chasing armed criminals. We need to get them backup.”
Charlie jingles her keys. “My truck’s right over there. We can be in town in 7 minutes.”
“Let’s go,” I say, already moving toward the parking lot.
Oxford follows, trotting alongside us. When we reach Charlie’s truck, I hesitate, looking at him.
“We can’t bring a llama to a Christmas concert,” Finn points out.
“He saved my life,” I counter. “And I’m not leaving him here alone with axe-wielding maniacs on the loose.”
Charlie shrugs. “He can run alongside the truck. Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today.”
I climb into the middle seat of Charlie’s pickup truck, wedged between her and Finn. As Charlie starts the engine, I look out the window to see Oxford watching us expectantly.
“Just follow us, okay?” I tell him.
Charlie snorts. “Talking to the llama like he understands English.”
“He does understand,” I insist. “He just chooses when to listen.”
As we pull out of the parking lot, Oxford breaks into a run beside us, matching our pace, his scarf fluttering behind him like a superhero cape.
“This is surreal,” Finn mutters, watching Oxford through the window.
“Welcome to Snowflake Valley,” Charlie says with a grin, turning onto the main road. “Where Christmas magic gets super weird.”
Charlie barely finds a parking spot at the edge of the town square. Mayor Reynolds is on stage delivering what sounds like the most boring speech. Hundreds of people crowd the square, sipping hot drinks and swaying to the music.
“There’s no way we’ll find the deputy in this crowd,” I say as we climb out of the truck.
“He’ll be in uniform,” Charlie says. “Probably near the front, looking important. And we have a secret weapon,” Charlie says, nodding toward Oxford, who trots up beside us.
She’s right. The moment we step into the crowd with Oxford, people notice. They nudge each other, pointing and whispering—some step back, creating a small pathway for us.
“Excuse us,” I call out. “We need to find the deputy. It’s an emergency!”
“Make way for the Christmas llama!” Finn adds dramatically, which actually works better than my approach. People laugh and move aside.
Oxford holds his head high, clearly enjoying the attention as we navigate through the crowd.
“There!” Charlie points toward a young man in uniform standing near the front. “That’s Deputy Harris.”
We push forward, but before we reach him, Finn’s phone rings. He pulls it out, glancing at the screen.
“It’s Everett,” he says, answering immediately. His expression shifts from relief to concern as he listens. “Got it. We’re already in town. We’ll warn the deputy.”
He hangs up and turns to us, lowering his voice. “The thieves got away from them. They loaded the trees into a large truck disguised as a cheese supplier. It’s heading straight for town—they’ll have to come right down Main Street to get out. Everett and Gabe are following on snowmobiles.”
“A cheese truck?” Charlie scoffs. “Subtle.”
“We need to hurry,” I say, pushing forward.
We finally reach the junior deputy, who looks barely old enough to drive, let alone enforce the law. His eyes widen comically at the sight of Oxford.
“Deputy Harris,” Charlie says, grabbing his attention. “We need your help. The tree thieves who’ve been stealing from Perfect Pines are about to drive through town in a cheese truck.”
“A… what?” He blinks, looking overwhelmed.