Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Curious—and more than a little uneasy—I made my way toward him.
“Hey, Jack,” I said, stepping into his path.
He looked up, surprised but friendly, and tugged off his knit cap. His hand raked through his messy gray hair like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Oh, hey, Kelsey! I love the street closure. Great idea by you or Carol.”
“Thanks,” I said, letting my eyes sweep up and down. “You seem to be getting around much better than earlier today.”
A rush of color came over his cheeks. “Yeah, the stiffness comes and goes. Arthritis. It’s unpredictable.”
“Right,” I said, flatly. “Unpredictable.”
His gaze dropped. He shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know how it must look. I just … do what I have to. If I had my way, I’d be retired by now. But I love Grace and Rudy like they’re family, and I don’t want to leave them in the lurch.”
I didn’t say anything—just waited—and let the silence stretch.
His eyes flicked up to mine, and I caught something in them—guilt? Or calculation?
He sighed. “Truth is, I exaggerate a little. The aches are real but not as bad as I let on. Grace pushes too hard sometimes. Thinks I’m still forty.
I limp a little and she backs off.” He gave me a sheepish look.
“It’s bad, I know. But I’m just trying to get through the day.
Since Robert passed away, we have the same amount of work but one less man to help out. ”
I tilted my head. “So, the cane’s a prop?”
“A little insurance policy,” he admitted, chuckling nervously. “Please don’t tell Grace. She’d kill me.”
I studied him for a second longer, then leaned in. “Your secret’s safe with me, Jack.”
He grinned with relief and clapped me on the shoulder—firm, steady, no sign of frailty. “You’re a good one, Kelsey.”
I smiled back, but as he turned and walked away—easy as anything—it took me an extra moment to recalibrate. His excuse was believable. He was a sweet older man who liked playing Santa, not a killer.
I merged back into the masses as “Jingle Bell Rock” ended and “The First Noel” began.
My eyes swept the area for more photo opportunities.
I recognized many faces from town. It seemed like everyone was there.
A handsome couple cuddled up against each other in front of Candy Cane Dreams, newly purchased hot cocoas in their hands.
One man leaned his head on the shoulder of his partner.
I framed the shot between light-strewn lampposts. Perfect.
Then my eyes were drawn to the side. Susie stood in front of the door beside Candy Cane Dreams. Her hand was on the handle, like she’d been about to open it.
But then she saw me. Our eyes locked, and something passed across her face—something unreadable.
Her grip on the handle loosened, and she changed course, stepping away from the door and heading straight for me.
Oh no. Here we go.
I stifled a groan and resisted the urge to turn and walk in the other direction. My legs were sore, my patience thin, and I was absolutely not in the mood for whatever brand of crazy she was about to unload.
She was moving fast, her black coat flaring out behind her like a cape. I raised a hand as she approached. “I’m working,” I said quickly. “I don’t have time for—”
“I’m sorry.”
The words hit like a snowball to the chest—cold and unexpected. I blinked. “O … kay.”
She stopped in front of me, face flushed, her breath clouding in the cold air. “I shouldn’t have involved you in my stuff with Ellison. I shouldn’t have said those things at the bakery. And I definitely shouldn’t have followed you in the hedge maze.”
I stared, mouth open. “Wait. That was you?”
She nodded. “I admit it.”
I had been right. I had seen a flash of her red hair.
“Why?” I asked, a knot forming in my gut.
“Because I wanted you gone. Simple as that.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I wanted to scare you away. But none of that matters now.”
I didn’t know why she’d had a sudden change in ethics, but I was glad for it. “So, you’re going to stop?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”
I crossed my arms, still wary. “And TheChristmasKiller stuff?”
Her brow creased. “What?”
“The fake account that’s been posting under the handle TheChristmasKiller,” I said. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Her face twisted in confusion. “Not me, Kelsey.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Really?”
She shrugged, palms open like she had nothing to hide. “I’ve done some petty stuff, I’ll admit that. But I’m not trolling you online. When I have something to say, I say it to your face.”
As strange as it was … I believed her.
She’d just confessed to stalking me through a hedge maze in an effort to scare me, why lie about trolling me on social media.
“Anyway,” she said with a big grin. “None of that matters now. See ya!”
I was still so stunned at the fact that she’d actually come up and apologized to me, that by the time I thought to ask why she thought that didn’t matter now, she was already back to the door she’d intended on opening earlier.
She stopped and cast one last glance at me over her shoulder. Like she wanted to make sure I was watching her, for some reason. Once it was clear that I’d seen, she gave me a smug smile and went in.
Okay, whatever, I thought, turning back to face the choir. But then I remembered where that door led. Behind it was a staircase that went up to the second and third floor apartments. Ellison’s place was on the second floor above Candy Cane Dreams.
No, I thought. First, even though I didn’t see him there, I knew he was at work.
Second, just no. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t Trent.
There were other apartments on those two floors above the stores, including the empty one owned by the woman who spent her winters in Florida.
Maybe Susie watered her plants. Who knew?
It was none of my business what she was heading up there for.
I wasn’t going to let her rattle me or let my mind go to the worst-case scenario.
I found a few more photo opportunities, sharing some immediately to stories and saving others for a post tomorrow.
Then I slipped my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and allowed myself to take a minute off and enjoy the music.
The choir had moved closer down the road, their voices echoing off the buildings. They truly were talented.
They began “Silent Night” next, their voices carrying clear and strong.
I stared up at the sky as unexpected flurries began to spiral down.
The crowd loved it—squealing, spinning, and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues.
It was a perfect holiday moment. While the urge to record pulled at me, I just wanted to experience it for a few seconds.
To be in the moment. I gazed up in awe, wondering how a place could be so beautiful.
Then something else fell from the sky. My brain couldn’t register it at first, couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. But then I realized that the tangled mess of limbs and clothes was a person, and they fell to the ground with a sickening thud.
The first scream to pierce the night air was my own.