Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Addie sang “O Come All Ye Faithful” as she plugged in the lights for her Christmas tree and the garland above the fireplace. The gas fireplace warmed the drafty living room and all was cozy and bright.
The windows’ seals were long since broken and the outdated heating system in the nineteen-seventies bungalow hadn’t worked well in her three years of living here.
She always kept the faucets at a drip when the temperature forecast was below freezing, but she loved her charming three-bedroom two-bath bungalow.
In the summer it was the perfect beach house, right on South Middle Beach in Yarmouth.
In the winter, it was homey if not always as warm as she needed.
She had Raynaud’s Syndrome, which meant the blood vessels in her extremities constricted in response to cold.
If she got chilled, her fingers and sometimes her toes would turn white.
It was painful and annoying. She’d had to figure out how to deal with the cold.
She used space heaters, the fire, and piled on blankets, layers of warm clothes, and fuzzy socks.
She settled into the overstuffed cushions of her wicker couch, staring at her lovely Christmas tree with a warm blanket wrapped around her and her banana pudding in hand.
One spoonful and she was relishing the creamy deliciousness, but her mind was far from Christmas coming in a few weeks or her favorite treat.
Captain Price Sanderson. What a man. He made her smile, seemed to appreciate her teasing, and had a patient resolve that he must have developed in the military.
He really seemed to like her, but he was holding back for her sake.
There was no denying how attractive he was with those soulful and penetrating dark eyes, his rugged facial features, and his fit body.
It had been hard to walk away today. She wanted to know more about him. Maybe on Tuesday she’d let him talk her into dinner. What if he got an assignment from whoever he worked for and ditched her? Her mouth turned down and she put the pudding to the side.
Her phone rang. She snatched it up, grateful for the distraction.
“Gillian,” she called into the phone, cuddling deeper into the blanket and the sofa. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, but nobody cares how I am.”
Addie tried to protest, but her friend overrode her.
“How did banana pudding go?” Her friend from work was teasing, but her voice sounded tight. Gillian always wanted to know about Addie’s flirtations and dates, but sometimes she seemed oddly jealous.
“It was fabulous. Price is intriguing and manly, dreamy honestly. I didn’t stay long though. Gotta keep him guessing, right?”
“Says you. I’d have no idea how to keep a dreamy guy’s interest.”
“Says you,” Addie protested. “You’re incredible. Any man would be lucky to date you.”
“Says you, but … thanks.”
There was a definite edge in her friend’s voice now.
Several times, men Gillian was dating had met Addie for the first time, hit on her, found a way to get her alone, and asked her out.
She had told them no and told Gillian the truth, as a friend would.
Those guys were jerks, but it had hurt Gillian and she hated that.
“Hold on one sec,” Gillian said. “My mother.”
“Oh, sure.”
The phone muted, and a second later there was a loud rap on the exterior storm door.
Addie straightened, clinging to the phone.
She didn’t get many visitors out here, especially in the winter.
Her work was in the city and most of her friends and dates were there.
Even the church crowd in Yarmouth was cut in half in the wintertime.
She used to invite dates out to The Cape for beach time, but the older she got the more reluctant she was to let men know where she lived.
She’d had a few incidents of men not wanting to take no for an answer.
Jamison attacking her this fall had been the last straw.
She used to trust everyone, but now she was leery.
She unfolded herself from the couch and pushed the blanket off, creeping through the small living area to the house’s only exterior door. Cradling the phone in her neck, she willed Gillian to get back on the line. For some reason she didn’t want to open that door alone.
The wind howled outside, and the storm door banged open and slammed against the exterior siding.
Addie cried out, clinging to her wooden front door handle. She turned on the porch light, looked through the peep hole, and could see … nothing. There was nobody out there.
“Addie?” Gillian’s voice in her ear. “You there?”
“Jill … somebody pounded on the door and then the storm door banged open and nobody’s out there.”
“O-kay,” Gillian drawled. “Maybe someone left you some cookies and forgot to latch the door properly.”
“Or maybe they’re going to jump scare me. What if … Jamison?”
Gillian laughed. “Last I heard, Jamison was in custody and awaiting trial.”
Addie shuddered. Gillian was right. Jamison was the top reason she was being so cautious with Price and why she didn’t tell men where she lived anymore.
He’d been charming and fun, until he hadn’t.
She had actually let down her guard and trusted him.
Until the night he forced himself on her.
She’d fought him, hollered for help, and because it was summer and the windows were open, a neighbor had called the police.
Jamison had run off when he heard the sirens.
She was grateful he hadn’t been able to take advantage of her, but it was terrifying to have someone she thought she trusted accost her and make her fight to preserve her virtue.
“Open the door so you can see what they left. It’s probably your latest order.”
Her friend’s tone of voice made it obvious Addie was overreacting to a simple knock on the door.
“They have been delivering late sometimes with the holidays coming.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re right. I’ll open the door.”
Addie had no idea why she was trembling. It was probably an package. But she hadn’t seen any headlights. Where was the box truck that delivered the package?
She turned the deadbolt and pulled open the door before she could second guess the wisdom of it.
The wind whipped her hair into her face and stung at the exposed skin of her face and hands.
She looked around but saw no one. The storm door banged against the wall again and she jumped. Whoever knocked must have left it open.
Looking down, she prayed for a package.
A small mailing envelope lay on the doorstep.
“A package, Gillian. It’s a package.”
Gillian laughed. “See? Nothing to worry about.”
“Sorry to freak out.”
“No worries. I don’t know why you love living clear out there.”
Addie grabbed the storm door and wrenched it from the wind’s grasp, slamming it closed and latching it.
She shut the wood front door and deadbolted it.
Carrying the envelope to the nearby counter, she found a knife to slice it open.
There was nothing on the outside. No return address, nor her name and address. Strange.
“I love it here,” she insisted to her friend.
“I know, I know. Are you coming into the city tomorrow?”
“No. I’ll be there Monday.”
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss free lunch.”
Addie laughed as she opened the mailer and looked inside. A white envelope rested inside the sleeve but nothing more. She pulled it out.
“The free work lunch supposedly has Magnolia Bakery cupcakes for dessert,” she reminded Gillian. “It’s not banana pudding, but that’s for the best.”
“Banana pudding is special now because of Price,” Gillian teased.
“That’s right.”
She opened the envelope and pulled out …
a photo of her sitting on her couch eating banana pudding.
Her pulse spiked and her hands grew clammy.
She looked out her windows. She had curtains but often forgot to close them, especially in the winter when the beaches outside her bungalow weren’t full of tourists.
“Addie?” Gillian’s voice came through the phone. “What is it?”
“There was a card in the package with a picture of me sitting on my couch eating banana pudding.”
“That’s creepy. Does it say anything?”
She turned the card over and read aloud, “You love to break hearts. Someday I’ll stop your heart from beating.”
Gillian gasped through the phone line.
Addie stared at the words, feeling numb and disjointed. Was this some kind of joke? It didn’t feel like a joke. It felt like … something Jamison would threaten.
“Addie,” Gillian said. “Addie, you need to call the police. That’s terrifying.”
Addie nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Addie.” Gillian’s tone was sharp. “Will you call the police?”
“Yes,” she squeaked out.
“Tell them about Jamison. And Raymond, Trey, and … oh, Isaac too.”
“Okay.” All men who claimed she’d broken their hearts.
“Are there any others I’m not thinking of? I know there are a long list of hearts you’ve broken, but those are the only ones who got ugly and threatened you, right?”
“It’s not like I try to break their hearts,” she protested. “I rarely go on more than a date or two.”
“You’re just too beautiful, sweet, and fun. It’s not your fault.”
Addie’s stomach turned over. She wasn’t ‘too beautiful’. Maybe she needed to give up dating completely. Why would someone threaten her like this?
“And I hate to say it,” Gillian said, “but tell them about Price.”
“Price? He doesn’t even know where I live.”
“A security guy could find you so quick your head would spin.”
Addie was sick. Could Price have done this? She didn’t think so, but he had said he could use his resources to find her. It had felt like harmless flirtation at the time. Now … she didn’t know what to think.
Jamison was locked up. His trial was set for January fifth. She dreaded going to testify, but she wouldn’t let him hurt some other unsuspecting woman.
Raymond, Trey, and Isaac … it could be one of them.
Isaac had been over the top upset when he came to her door and she reminded him there was a restraining order against him.
He had chucked the flowers and glass vase at her before storming off.
Luckily the vase hadn’t hit her, only shattered against a chair and made a huge mess.
Raymond and Trey had been angry and called her some choice names, but she hadn’t seen either of them since.
She tried to think of other men whose hearts she may have broken. That felt ridiculous when she rarely dated anyone long enough to fall in love, but some of the men got attached quickly.
“Call me back after you talk to the police,” Gillian said.
“Okay.”
Addie hung up and dialed 911, staring at the threatening note. The Christmas tree glowed brightly in the corner, but she didn’t feel any Christmas spirit.
The wind rattled the shutters. She shivered, glancing out the window that had an angle of her living room couch. She rushed over and yanked the curtains tight.
With the creepy feeling of someone taking pictures of her in her sanctuary and threatening her, it felt more like Halloween than Christmas.