Something was going on. Something that was putting a six-year-old kid in danger. Dallas wanted to find out what, and he wanted to know exactly how Carly had gotten involved in it.

      “We need to speak with the police.”

      “I can’t do that.”

      “Why not?”

      “If they find out I’ve gone to the police, they’ll take my son. I’ll never see him again.”

      “Is that what they told you?”

      “Yes.”

      Somewhere in the deepest part of the shadows, a twig snapped. He grabbed Carly’s hand and dragged her into thick undergrowth.

      Someone was out there with them.

      A phone buzzed, the sound a discordant note in the eerie silence. He gestured for Carly to turn the thing off but she was staring at the screen.

      “We need to go,” she said, trying to dart past him.

      There was something about the tension in her face that made him glance at the text she’d opened, the photo it contained. A kid staring out from behind a window, his dark curly hair a lot like Carly’s.

      “They’re going to take Zane. I’ll never see him again,” Carly said, her voice trembling. “They’re outside of my house, watching him.”

      Dear Reader,

      In the silence of cold winter nights and the hush of snowy winter days, I often find myself thinking about Christ’s birth, about the way it must have felt to be Mary or Joseph or the shepherds in their fields. None of those people were rich or beautiful or well liked by the world. They were poor and humble and even despised.

      The Christmas story is told so often, depicted so frequently, that it is easy to become immune to it, to forget how miraculous the birth of Christ was, how life changing, how world changing. The message of His birth and life and resurrection is not one of divisiveness and hate, but one of love. This Christmas season, I hope you have a chance to slow down and look around, to see with fresh eyes the beauty of the world you live in. Take a walk through an icy forest, explore snow-covered paths or—if you live in warmer climates—stand on the beach and look at the vastness of the ocean and the sky. He is there with you, my friend, in all that great and wild beauty, and in the smallest, darkest place in your heart.

      Blessings,

      Shirlee McCoy

      Aside from her faith and her family, there’s not much SHIRLEE MCCOY enjoys more than a good book! When she’s not teaching or chauffeuring her five kids, she can usually be found plotting her next Love Inspired Suspense story or wandering around the beautiful Inland Northwest in search of inspiration. Shirlee loves to hear from readers. If you have time, drop her a line at [email protected].

      Christmas on the Run

      Shirlee McCoy

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

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      Lord, your love is as high as the heavens. Your faithful love reaches up to the skies. Your holiness is as great as the height of the highest mountains. You are honest as the oceans are deep. Lord, you keep people and animals safe. How priceless your faithful love is! People find safety in the shadow of your wings.

      —Psalms 36:5–7

      To you. I hope, as you read this dedication, you smile.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       About the Author

       Title Page

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       ONE

       TWO

       THREE

       FOUR

       FIVE

       SIX

       SEVEN

       EIGHT

       NINE

       TEN

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