Chapter 5 #2
I start climbing. It’s easier than I expected, and my boots find purchase on the curves and swirls. Up I go, hand over hand, trying not to think about how insane this is.
Halfway up, I pause. “You still there, Lily?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Just making sure you haven’t abandoned me in my time of need.”
“I’m documenting your poor life choices so I can tell the police exactly how stupid you were.”
“That’s the sister I know and love.”
I reach the top, carefully navigating between the metal spikes. They’re decorative but sharp, and I don’t want to explain to an ER nurse how I impaled myself breaking into a bounty hunter’s property.
Just as I’m straddling the top, trying to figure out the best way down, the entire gate lurches.
I yelp, grabbing onto the nearest spike to keep from falling.
The gate is moving. Opening. Someone activated it.
“Oh, shit,” I gasp.
“What? What’s ‘oh, shit’?”
“The gate’s opening. Someone’s home. Someone saw me.”
“GET DOWN!”
“I’m trying!” But the gate is still moving, and I’m still perched on top of it, and this is officially the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
I scramble down, my boots slipping on metal, my hands scraping, and I definitely tear my jacket on something sharp. But I make it to the ground, landing in snow with an ungraceful thump.
“Did you die?” Lily asks.
“Not yet.” I’m breathing hard, face burning with humiliation. “But someone definitely saw me.”
“Then RUN.”
“I can’t! I’ve come this far.” I brush snow off my jeans, trying to look casual. Like I always climb gates and get caught. Totally normal activity. “I’m just going to… go get my car and drive through like I was invited.”
“You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
I jog back to my Honda, climb in, and drive through the now-open gate like I own the place. Fake it till you make it, right?
The driveway continues through more open land, definitely pastures under all that snow.
The house gets bigger as I approach, and oh my God, it’s enormous.
Three stories, stone and timber construction, the kind of place that belongs on a ranch for wealthy people who want to pretend they’re rugged while still having heated floors.
I pull up to the front, put the car in park, and sit there for a second.
“Okay,” I tell Lily, my phone in my hand now. “I’m here. Someone clearly knows I’m here, because they opened the gate. So I’m going to go knock on the door, explain myself, and hope they don’t shoot me.”
“Please be careful.”
“I’ll do my best. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, call the cops.”
“That’s not even funny.”
“Come on, murder doc girl. I thought you’d love the dramatic setup.”
“I love it when it happens to other people, not my sister.”
“Fair point.” I’m walking toward the front door now, boots crunching in snow. “Okay, I’m knocking. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck not getting arrested.”
“Your confidence is inspiring. Okay, gotta go and do this. Call you later.”
“You’d better.”
I disconnect the call before she can argue some more, shove my phone into my pocket, and knock on the wooden front door.
Nothing.
I wait, knock again.
Still nothing.
The house looks closed up, windows shut, no lights visible, no movement. But someone opened that gate.
I glance back at the driveway. The gate is still open behind me, like an invitation. Or a trap.
“Hello?” I call out, knocking one more time. “Chris? Anyone home?”
Silence.
Okay. This is weird.
I turn away from the house, surveying the property and move to its side. The barn is to my left, maybe fifty yards away. I can’t see any reindeer in the visible pastures, but there’s a large fenced pen behind the barn, and what looks like a vegetable garden buried under snow.
Maybe they’re in the barn?
I head that way, trudging through snow, my breath misting in the cold air. The barn is huge, easily big enough for multiple animals, with a solid structure that looks recently rebuilt. There’s a wooden beam across the door, keeping it shut.
And I can hear noises inside. Movement. Animals.
My heart rate picks up, so I reach for the wooden beam, lift it, and push the barn door open.
A reindeer suddenly charges out.
I shriek, stumbling backward, landing hard on my ass in the snow as a blur of brown fur and flailing legs barrels past me.
“What the—”
More reindeer inside. At least seven of them, all staring at me from the dim interior of the barn with expressions that clearly say “Who the hell are you?”
Oh my God. He was telling the truth. Chris actually has reindeer.
Relief floods through me, immediately followed by panic. Because one of them is now loose, and I broke into his property.
“Shit, shit, shit.” I scramble to my feet, slam the barn door shut before any others escape. “Come back here! You can’t just—where are you going?”
The reindeer, smaller than the others, definitely younger, no antlers, which means either very young or female, is trotting away from me toward the house.
“Hey! Stop!”
It doesn’t listen.
I chase after it, my boots slipping in snow. “Come back! Please come back! I’m sorry I let you out!”
The reindeer ignores me, heading straight for a pile of chopped wood stacked near the side of the house. Behind the woodpile, a large evergreen tree leans against the house, probably waiting to be set up somewhere for Christmas, still wrapped partially in netting.
The reindeer scrambles up the woodpile with surprising agility.
“No. No, no, no, don’t you dare—”
It reaches the top of the woodpile, uses the leaning tree as a ramp, and suddenly it’s on the roof.
I stare up at it, dumbfounded.
The reindeer stares back down at me, looking entirely too pleased with itself.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I yell. “That’s not even… How did you… Get down here!”
It blinks at me, unconcerned.
“I’m serious! You’re going to hurt yourself!” I’m pacing now, hands in my hair. “Or fall through the roof! Or get stuck up there and die and then Chris will kill me for killing his reindeer!”
The animal sits down in a gentle pose on the roof, getting comfortable.
“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”
This is a disaster. This is a catastrophic failure of judgment that I’m going to have to explain to three bounty hunters who are probably watching me on camera right now, laughing at the crazy woman who broke into their property and released their livestock.
I pat my pockets like a nervous rabbit. Nothing but phone, keys, lint. No emergency scone. My brain panics for exactly two seconds before I remember where I left the goods—the car.
“Stay,” I tell the reindeer like it understands English and common sense.
It stares at me, unimpressed, chewing on the air.
“Okay.” I take off, skittering across the frosted lawn toward the driveway.
Cold hits my cheeks so hard my nose stings.
I fling open the car door, dive in, and aim for the open platter of brownies and carrot cake muffins.
I break a small piece of the muffin as reindeer like carrots, right?
Then I sprint back. The reindeer is still on the roof, because of course it is.
I wave the goodie like a flag. “Hey, you,” I call, breathless. “Down here, Rudolph. Yes, you. Do you think you’re one of Santa’s reindeer or something? Because I am not leaving until you come down and behave.”
It snorts and flicks an ear. I offer a piece of muffin on both palms like some kind of pastry priestess. “Look at me. This is fresh from this morning. Not the sad, stale kind, but Lily’s signature. You will regret refusing this.”
The wind shifts, and the scent must reach the reindeer full on.
Its nostrils flare. Hope lights in its eyes, which is ridiculous because this is a beast, not a golden retriever.
It edges down the tree with the same agility it used to climb up, hooves hitting the woodpile next, and leaps down to the ground with terrifying grace.
That’s when I notice an axe embedded in one of the logs, and my heart stops for a second, but the reindeer lands clear, unhurt, and trots straight toward me.
I practically weep with relief. “Yes! Good Rudolph. That’s it. Come get it.”
It bounds forward and snuffles the piece of carrot muffin out of my hands with a sound that could be mistaken for a purr if you are professionally delusional. Crumbs coat my fingers. I laugh, wiping them on my jeans. “You massive pastry thief.”
The reindeer chews solemnly. I stroke its muzzle because now feels like a good time to establish a friendship. But it headbutts me, gentler this time, like it’s playing.
“Okay, no. We’re not playing. We’re going back to the barn.” I grab for what I think might be a collar around its neck, but it’s just fur, and the reindeer dances away from me. “Come here!”
It bolts toward the pasture instead.
“No! Wrong direction!”
I chase after it, and we end up in a muddy patch where snow has melted into slush. My boots sink, and I’m slipping, and the reindeer is having the time of its life running circles around me.
“Please,” I gasp, making another grab. “Please just cooperate for five seconds.”
This time I manage to get a grip on the fur of its neck. It tries to pull away, I hold on, and we both slip in the mud.
I go down hard, knees first, mud splashing everywhere. It’s cold and wet and disgusting, and I can feel it soaking through my jeans.
“This is your fault,” I tell the reindeer, who’s now calmly standing next to me like nothing happened. “You know that, right? This is entirely your fault.”
It blinks at me with those big, innocent eyes.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re a menace.” I struggle to my feet, mud everywhere, on my jeans, my jacket, my hands. I can feel it on my face. “And you’re coming with me to the barn right now before—”
“What are you doing to Corn Dog?” A low, male voice comes from behind me.
I freeze and turn slowly, and there’s a man standing about ten feet away, half hidden by the corner of the house.
And oh my God, he’s gorgeous.