Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The only work I managed to accomplish was to delete the posts that were scheduled to go up today. Christmasville was going dark. No photos of happy families. No advertising upcoming events. No responding to the myriad of questions in the comments about our local serial killer.
Who the police believed was my boyfriend—potential boyfriend.
Even though I wasn’t hungry, I forced myself to buy a snack from the vending machine back at the inn.
Then I hid out in my room, clutching my phone for any news.
My brother called, but I let it go to voicemail.
I did not want to deal with that right now.
A few minutes later, the telltale sound of an incoming text dinged, and I grabbed the phone like a lifeline.
Call me back. Now.
My brother again. He must have heard the news. Another text came quickly behind.
Mom and Dad know.
Shit in a stocking. This wasn’t going to be good. I hit the call button, and he picked up immediately.
“Hey, sis. What’s new? Hey, were you ever planning on telling me that there’s a SERIAL KILLER in your new small town?!”
I pulled the phone away from my ear until he was done yelling. “I did tell you about Isabella.”
“Yeah, but not that she may have been the third victim!”
“We weren’t sure if the previous two were murdered or not,” I said, even though some of us had been pretty sure.
“And someone else died yesterday and you couldn’t take five seconds to send me a text!”
Okay, he was truly mad. Shawn never got mad. If anything, he was too chill. It was time for one of my rare sister to brother apologies.
I softened my voice. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have sent you a text. But I didn’t want to worry you, and it’s been so busy here. I was at work today with my boss trying to figure out how to handle this on socials.”
He sniffed. “Well, you need to worry about Mom and Dad because they’re about to ask the captain of a cruise ship to turn his boat around.”
I could actually picture that happening, so it wasn’t a joke. “I will send them a message as soon as I’m off the phone. I swear.”
“They want you to leave.”
“I can’t leave,” I said quickly. “I live here now. I work here.”
“Of course you can,” he scoffed. “Can’t you work remotely for a while?”
I didn’t want to tell him that I wouldn’t be working at all for a while. Because that meant I had no excuse. But I didn’t want to leave. Especially not with Ellison in custody. I needed to be here and figure out what the hell was going on.
“Where am I going to go?” I asked him. “I’m not going all the way to New York to stay with you.”
“Don’t you have a friend you could stay with? A non-Christmasville friend?”
The truth was that most of my friends back in Boston were mutual friends with Trent.
Or work friends. My real friends from college were scattered all over the country.
None in driving distance. And I wasn’t about to drop a few hundred dollars on a plane ticket when I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay away.
And if I gave up this room, where would I keep all of my stuff? I didn’t have unlimited resources.
“Shawn, I’m staying here for now,” I said, my voice stern enough so that he knew not to argue. “But I’m safe. I’m behind a deadbolt in my room.”
He groaned. “I suppose I can’t force you.”
“No, you cannot. But I appreciate you worrying, and I promise I’ll be smart.”
“That would be a first,” he said. Even in times like these, Shawn couldn’t ignore an opportunity for an easy burn.
“Hardy har har,” I fake-laughed.
“Well, at least they booked someone. I saw the arrest online. If this dude killed all four, you might be safe.”
Okay, definitely wasn’t going to tell him that I knew the “dude” and had been planning on a date with him last night. My phone vibrated a couple times, signaling new incoming texts. I pulled the phone away from my ear to take a peek. Yes, Mom and Dad were in official freak-out mode.
“I’m going to go. Mom and Dad are texting me. I have to calm them down.”
“Good luck,” he said in a tone that meant I’d really need it. “And, for real, stay safe. I’m serious. If you get yourself killed and leave me alone with Mom and Dad, I will be so pissed.”
I chuckled under my breath. “Your concern is noted.”
My next hour was spent trying to manage a Facetime or phone call with my parents and failing at both.
I didn’t know if it was the fact that they were currently in the middle of an ocean somewhere or that they were just terrible at technology.
But at least our texts were working. They took a lot of convincing that a) I was okay, b) I was being safe, and c) they shouldn’t hire a helicopter to pick them up from the boat so they could hightail it here.
As bad as they were with technology, they were great at worrying.
Their imagination could fuel the plot of a hundred horror novels.
With them settled, I was able to search for any news.
Nothing official had come out about Ellison in the media, but his name had leaked in online spaces.
My stomach churned. I wish I knew what was happening in that police station.
I checked the time. He’d only been in custody for a few hours.
From watching approximately 40,000 episodes of Dateline and 20/20, I knew that suspects could be held in interrogation rooms for hours and hours on end.
Ellison was probably hungry, tired, and scared.
My heart clenched at the thought of him in that tiny room getting hit with question after question.
But then I wondered if I was wrong to have sympathy.
The police clearly thought he was the killer.
They had the text from him, at least. Maybe even more evidence.
Susie’s smug smile rose from the back of my mind.
I remember thinking she wanted me to see her open that door.
Plus her cryptic mention of how wanting to scare me out of town “didn’t matter now”?
Well, now that all made sense. She’d received a text from Ellison wanting to talk.
She thought they were getting back together.
She thought she’d “won” this game she was playing.
Little did she know what was about to happen.
But I only knew one thing. There was no way Ellison killed her. Yes, my people-radar was quite inaccurate lately. I hadn’t suspected Trent was a cheating scumbag until the evidence literally landed on my desk. But this was different. Ellison was different. There was no way he was a murderer.
Could he have asked her to talk? Absolutely. He even said on Thanksgiving that he was going to have a chat with her about the way she’d been behaving with me. I thought that was unnecessary, but maybe he decided to do it. I only knew that he didn’t push her.
He couldn’t have.
My phone dinged again, and I reached for it. It was Holly.
Holly: How are you holding up?
Me: Honestly? I’m a nervous wreck. Have you heard anything?
Holly: Not yet.
Me: Are you at home?
Holly: No, I’m at the bakery. Nick doesn’t want me going home without him. Plus, an employee quit today. So I’m up to my eyeballs in it.
I was really sick of being alone, all holed up in this room like my own personal jail cell.
The bakery wasn’t far. It wasn’t dark out yet, and the roads were full of news cameras.
My stomach suddenly realized the only thing I’d fed it all day was a small package of animal crackers. And it was pissed.
Me: Can I come help?
Holly: For real?
Me: I need to stay busy or I’ll go insane. Plus, I’m hungry and you probably have food.
Holly: I will trade you a couple half-stale bagels that are about to be thrown out in exchange for cleaning duty.
It was the best offer I’d had all day.
Me: Deal. I’ll be there in five.
I brought my car keys even though I wasn’t driving, because they were the only weapon I owned. Every woman knew the “largest key between your index and middle fingers” pose. I strode with purpose, key held at the ready, my head on a swivel.
The setting sun streaked orange across the sky.
The crime scene was no longer barricaded.
The news vans had abandoned Main Street and probably set up shop down the road by the police station.
Downtown was decidedly empty. Apparently Susie’s death was one murder too many, even for the morbid sightseers.
The town looked strange with silent streets and empty sidewalks.
Main Street was illuminated by the same twinkle lights.
The storefronts had the same festive window displays.
But without the people, the empty street felt creepy, not cheery.
I reached Holly’s Bakery and went to turn the knob. Locked. I peered through the glass and saw a flash of a red apron. I gave a quick knock, and a moment later Holly opened the door.
“Sorry,” she said, out of breath. “I was in the back. Hope you weren’t knocking for long.”
“Not at all.”
Holly relocked the door behind me. I’d never seen the bakery after closing. It felt so subdued without the rush of customers and soft music playing in the background. But it still smelled damn good.
I draped my coat over the back of a white wrought-iron chair. “Okay, put me to work.”
“You were serious about that?”
“How else am I going to earn my half-stale bagel?”
Holly grinned and put a broom in my hand. “Sweep, and I’ll see if I can rustle you up something only a quarter stale.”
I began sweeping the floor, herding the crumbs into a single pile, while Holly went behind the counter. “So, you had someone quit on you?”
She heaved a sigh. “Weekend help. The risk of dying apparently isn’t worth the part-time pay. I understand. Everyone’s on edge now.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I even had to talk my parents out of extreme behavior today.”
Holly raised her eyebrows in question.
“Don’t ask.” I bent down to grab a scrunched-up napkin and tossed it in the trash.
Holly stared at me from behind the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“My overprotective parents?”
“Ellison.”
I shook my head and kept sweeping. “He didn’t do it. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“We’re agreed on that, then,” she said.
After a few more minutes of sweeping and emptying a dustpan, the floor was about as good as I was going to get it.
Holly was busy carrying items to and from the back.
I saw a bottle of cleaning spray and a rag on one of the tables and figured I could do that next.
It felt good to be moving my body and accomplishing things rather than sitting in my room at the inn biting my nails.
I was cleaning the final table when a noise at the door made me freeze.
Someone was trying the knob.
The sun had set and twilight made it hard to see more than a shadow on the other side of the small glass pane. I didn’t want to get closer to look. If the door was locked, they’d figure out the bakery wasn’t open and move on. But instead, I heard a rustle of metal and scraping.
Fear tightened my throat. I fought the urge to scream and instead called out, “We’re closed!”
But the person wasn’t deterred. The knob rustled again, louder this time. Then, suddenly, the knob turned, and the door burst open. I raised the spray bottle in my hand as an animalistic howl came out of me.
“Hey! Hey! It’s me!”
Nick stood in the open doorway, raising his hands. A key ring hung from the doorknob. Of course, Nick would have a key to his wife’s bakery.
“What the hell is going on here?” Holly asked, running out from the back.
“Kelsey was about to Windex me to death,” Nick said, pointing to my still aimed bottle.
I dropped it on a table and put my hand to my chest. “You gave me a heart attack. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in.”
“Is there news?” Holly asked.
I realized now how terrible Nick looked. He needed a shave and a shower. Or at least three cups of coffee.
He dragged a tired hand down the side of his face. “Yeah. I have news.”