Better Not Cry (Rebekka Franck Book 8)

by Willow Rose

  "It's true, Rebekka," he said, still not looking at me. "I’m never going to walk again. I know the doctors have told me repeatedly, but I refused to listen. Guess the joke is on me, right?"

  "What? No, no. Sune, you're getting it all wrong. That's not what Dr. Herman told you at all."

  "Yes, it was, Rebekka. He said it was all in my head. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Before that, I always thought it was all physical. Yet, I believed I could somehow fix it or train it away with the right trainer or right program or even the right medicine. Now that he told me it was in my head, how can I ever beat that, huh? There’s no cure, no pill, and no surgery I can have done to make this better. I am doing this to myself. It's all me. I can't fight myself. I can't get rid of myself. How, Rebekka? How am I supposed to do this?"

  I understood what he was saying, and I even got why he would feel that way, but I wasn't ready to give up just yet.

  "I don't know, Sune, but I still believe you will. If you don't give up. You can't give up on yourself. I won't let you."

  "Well, I have," he said and looked me in the eyes.

  What I saw in them was devastating. I realized he had finally completely lost all hope. "This is who I am now," he said and looked down at himself. "It's not going to pass, Rebekka. It's not going away. And I am not going to destroy your life as well. That's why I have to let you go. It's not fair to ask you to stay with me. You're free to go and live your life as you please. I won't hold you back. Now, please, leave. I want to be alone."

  "But Sune…"

  "Leave, please."

  I got up, but I didn't want to leave. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, I wanted to kiss him and tell him everything was going to be all right, that we would get through this, together.

  "LEAVE!"

  I walked out, closed the door behind me, then slid my back down against it, crying.

  49

  "I can't sell you a puppy."

  Sydney glared at the woman behind the counter.

  "Why not? I have the money right here." Sydney held the fifty-dollar bill up for the lady to see.

  She shook her head. "First of all, we're an adoption center, so we don't sell puppies; people adopt them from us. But I can't do it. Not without your parent's consent."

  "But…But…It’s for our parent, for our mother," Sydney said. "We want to give it to her for Christmas. "

  "To make her feel better," Trisha added. "She's been so sad since our dad died. We think a puppy will make her happy."

  The lady sighed. "Look. I can tell that you really want this and it's a nice thought, it really is, and maybe you can bring her here and then she can take the puppy home, but I can't sell it to you. Not without an adult." She tilted her head and smiled. "I'm sorry."

  Sydney and Trisha left the store, shoulders slumped. The puppy in the window stared disappointedly at them and followed them with its brown eyes as they disappeared down toward the shops they had already been in several times. Time was running out and soon there was an announcement over the speakers that the mall was about to close.

  "We've got to hurry up," Sydney said. She pulled her sister's arm as they ran into a store, then out of it because they couldn't find anything there either, then back into another store but nothing was good enough there either.

  "How about the apron?" Trisha said.

  Sydney sighed. It was beginning to sound like a good idea, the apron, even though she felt bad for giving her mother such a lousy gift. It had to be better than nothing, right?

  It's the thought that counts. That's what they all say, right?

  "Okay," she said. "Let's go get that stupid apron."

  She held her sister's hand as they walked toward Macy's when Trisha suddenly stopped in front of a store window.

  "Look, Syd," she said and pointed.

  Sydney looked at the storefront. She had never seen it before. They hadn't been inside this one. That was strange. She thought they had been in all of the stores in the entire mall.

  "Look," Trisha said again.

  Sydney looked at what she was pointing at. A small necklace glistened in the light from above. It consisted of three parts, put together they shaped a heart. On the part to the left, it said little sister, on the one to the right, it said big sister, and on the one in the middle it said mommy. It was gorgeous. So sparkling and so…so…perfect.

  Sydney's face lit up. This was even better than the puppy and less demanding. This way, their mother would always remember her children and how much she loved them and that they were there for her through everything in life. Sydney and Trisha looked at each other and smiled.

  "Let's go get it," Trisha said and opened the door to the store. "If we hurry, I think we can make it before the mall closes."

  50

  Sydney looked at the necklace inside the store.

  "It's perfect,” Trisha said.

  "I know," Sydney said.

  It cost fifty dollars. Exactly the amount Sydney had in her hand. She turned to look for someone to help her buy it but couldn't see anyone. Sydney walked to the counter but there was no one there.

  "Hello?" she said. "We'd like to buy a necklace. Hello?"

  "There's no one here," Trisha said.

  "Of course, there's someone here. There has to be. Otherwise, people could just take the stuff and leave."

  "Maybe they went home?" Trisha said. She looked back into the mall where people were rushing by the window to get home. "The mall is about to close."

  "I know," Sydney said, drumming her fingers impatiently on the counter. "They're probably just cleaning up in the back or something. You know, getting ready to leave. They probably didn't hear us come in." She leaned over the counter. "Hello?"

  Still, no one came. Sydney was getting annoyed. She had been looking all day for the perfect gift and now she had finally found it. All she needed was to buy it, then she could go home and have a wonderful Christmas with her mother and sister. She was so close.

  "Hello?"

  Sydney walked past the counter and looked into the back. But she couldn't see anyone there. On the speakers, they were telling people it was the last chance to get out of the mall before it closed. A woman rushed past the window carrying multiple bags in her hands.

  Trisha tugged her sister's shirt. "We should go."

  Sydney sighed, annoyed. "We're so close."

  "We have to come back tomorrow then," Trisha said.

  Sydney really didn't want to have to come back again. She was right there; the necklace was right over there. All she needed was for someone to help her get it and then pay.

  "Hell-o-o-o! Is someone there?" she asked again.

  "They're not here," Trisha said and tugged harder on her shirt. "They went home and so should we."

  But wouldn't they have locked the shop up before leaving? Sydney asked herself. She shrugged with a sigh.

  "All right then. We'll come back tomorrow."

  They walked toward the exit when the shutters suddenly rolled down with a loud thud, blocking all the windows and the door. Trisha shrieked, grabbing her sister's hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

  Next, the lights went out.

  "Syd!"

  Sydney's heart was pounding in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. For her sister's sake.

  "It's okay," she said. "It's just because they're closing."

  "But they closed the shutters," her sister said, her voice trembling. "And they shut off the lights."

  "I know," Sydney said, trying to think fast, trying to figure out what to do. She had a cellphone so they could always call for their mother, but she really wanted to avoid that. Her mother had enough trouble as it was. "We just need to find…there must be a way out in the back or something."

  Holding on tightly to her sister's hand, she turned around and walked toward the back when she heard the sound of jingle bells cutting through the darkness.

  51

  Sydney's heart stopped. She grabbed Trisha and pulled
her close. The sound of jingling bells crept closer.

  "What is that?" Trisha asked. "That sound?"

  "I don't know," Sydney said. "Stay close to me."

  "I'm scared," Trisha said.

  "Me too," Sydney said.

  "What if we can't get out of here?"

  Sydney held her breath as the tinkling sound grew closer still. She recognized the sound as the very same one she had heard at night. Until now, she had believed she was going nuts, that it was all in her head, something she had made up because of the death of her father. But now she knew it wasn't. This was real. He was real and he was here.

  Trisha screamed. "What's that?"

  Sydney looked in front of them and spotted the red glowing globes. She took a step backward as the sound of laughter filled the store, the deep well-known laugh that, for most people, meant joy and happiness, but filled Sydney with the deepest sense of terror.

  "It's Santa," Trisha exclaimed, happily. "Santa can help us get out, can't he? He can get us out of here. Santa likes children. He’ll help us, don't you think so, Sydney? Syd?"

  Sydney walked backward, pulling her sister with her as the glowing red globes approached them. She had a feeling this particular Santa wasn't there to help them. There was something in the way he laughed, in the sound of the bells that made the hairs stand up on her neck. She thought about that lady, Sara Andrews, and what she had said in court when she told her side of the story, the one that everyone assumed was just a crazy woman trying to get out of being killed for what she had done.

  We let this guy into our homes every year without realizing who he really is, what he really is.

  Everyone had laughed at her. The media mocked her. Only Sydney had listened carefully. Because she had read what her dad had written on that notepad right before he died. And she knew. She knew his death wasn't natural. She knew something else was at stake and she wondered why no one else ever stopped to think: What if this lady is right? What if she’s onto something? And then she pondered if that was what it felt like to be insane.

  Santa is just an anagram for Satan.

  "I think we need to get out of here," she whispered to her sister. "Come. Follow me."

  They turned around and ran for the door. Sydney grabbed the handle and pulled it, but of course, it was locked. They clenched their fists and hammered on the shuttered windows, screaming and yelling for help, but there was no one out there. The mall was empty and all they could hear was the sound of jingle bells, as it came closer and closer still.

  Slowly, Sydney turned around and looked straight into the red glowing eyes. She didn't see it happen but felt the pain as his teeth sunk in, as they penetrated the skin on her neck. After that, there was nothing more. Only darkness and the sound of a deep rumbling laughter. As Sydney sunk into oblivion, all she could think about was her poor mother and how lonely she was going to be with her gone too.

  52

  I spent the evening on the couch in the living room while the kids watched Beauty and the Beast—again. Julie went to her room to be on her computer. But Tobias stayed with William and me, keeping us company. I was on my iPad, but my mind was elsewhere.

  "You think my dad will come with us to Disney World when we go?" Tobias suddenly asked.

  I looked up. His eyes met mine. I saw such sadness in them, it was almost unbearable. He was suffering in this whole affair with his father. Sune had no time for him, no energy to spend with him, and I could only imagine what it was doing to him to watch his father lose hope like this. It had to be tough. I was the only one he really talked to, but even I hadn't had much time for him in the past couple of years.

  "I’m sure he will," I said.

  We both knew I was lying. I wasn't so sure about anything concerning Sune right now. I was devastated to have seen him lose hope and I had no idea how to help him get it back. Especially since he had made it clear that he didn't want my help anymore. He wanted to get by on his own, to show the world he could take care of himself.

  And he wanted me out of his life.

  I looked back at the screen when something popped up. I was reading the local newspaper Florida Today when a story broke. BREAKING NEWS, it said, but that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the words that followed. SANTA-SHOOTER FOUND DEAD.

  I pressed the link and the story opened up. I held my breath as I read about Sara Andrews and how she was found dead in her prison cell on the morning after I visited her, hung from the ceiling with a string of Christmas lights wrapped around her neck. Where she got the lights, the prison couldn't say.

  The article then continued on about who she was and how she had been convicted of killing her ex-husband on Christmas Eve and how she believed Santa was out to get her and had made her life miserable.

  I read it all with a pounding heart, then put the iPad down, found my phone, and walked outside. I found Sydney Hahn's number and dialed it. It was warm out and the cicadas were singing. Christmas decorations had been hung on the lampposts, wishing us all a Merry Christmas. I was beginning to wonder just how merry it was going to be.

  "Pick up. Pick up," I said when the phone continued to ring. "Come on, Sydney."

  The voicemail message came on and I hung up, then pressed redial and waited again. I couldn't stop thinking about Sara Andrews and her story and even more about her words.

  He'll come after you too.

  I had to talk to Sydney and let her know. I wanted to warn her, to tell her to be careful, but she still didn't pick up. I tried again.

  This time, it was picked up. I sighed with relief.

  "Sydney? It's Rebekka…"

  There was heavy breathing at the other end. It didn't sound like it would come from her.

  "Sydney?"

  "Rebekka?" A voice said. It wasn't Sydney's. This belonged to a man, a man with a very deep voice.

  "Who's this?" I asked, heart pounding in my chest. "Who is this? What have you done to Sydney? What have you DONE?"

  "Tell me, Rebekka," the voice said. "Have you been nice this year or have you been a NAUGHTY GIRL?"

  "S-Santa?"

  Part IV

  53

  I wasn't even enjoying the coffee. I was sitting on a soft couch at Café Juice 'N Java while staring anxiously at the front door.

  He was running late. At least by five minutes.

  I sighed and sipped the coffee, my heart worried. I was the one who had called him. Right after I had hung up on Santa, I called detective Ryder and asked him to find Sydney Hahn since I feared something bad had happened to her. I couldn't explain how I knew. I mean, how could I? What was I supposed to say?

  I also told him to look for the red marks on Sara's body. He complained that he was busy and didn't have time for this, but I told him it was important. He simply had to do it.

  Now, two days had passed and he had finally called me back. I was sick with worry. He told me to meet him here at the café. My fingers were drumming on the armrest as I spotted him. He held the door for some lady, then entered. He didn't smile when he saw me.

  He ordered a coffee, then sat down across from me. He threw a file on the table.

  "You were right," he said.

  "Right about what?"

  "The red marks. They were on her neck just as you told me they would be. The autopsy report concluded they were bug bites. Now, my question to you is, how did you know about the marks? How could you possibly know when the woman was in a prison cell?"

  I sighed. "Oh, boy."

  He leaned forward. "It's all a little crazy, don't you think? Something very strange is going on and I can't seem to find any ups or downs to this. That was why I asked you to meet me here instead of at the office. I can't make anything out of this, no silver lining. I can't risk any of my colleagues hearing about this crazy stuff. But now I need you to tell me, what the heck is going on?"

  I rubbed my hands together. I was nervous. "First, I need you to tell me if you found Sydney Hahn. I haven't eaten anything or closed an eye in t
wo nights worrying about her."

  He looked surprised. "You haven't heard?"

  My heart sunk. I shook my head, fearing what would come next. "No. No, I haven't."

  "Oh, dear Lord," he said. "That night you called me and told me to look for her, I went to her mother's house and she told me Sydney and her sister had gone to the mall and been gone all day. We found them inside one of the smaller shops..."

  "What do you mean you found them?"

  "Sydney. She was…dead. Her chest was ripped open. Her sister was sitting in a corner of the shop, hiding behind the shelves, crying helplessly. She kept screaming when we asked her questions, and what she said made no sense, none at all."

  I swallowed. I felt awful, broken. "What did she say?"

  "She kept screaming about Santa. It was all she kept saying. Santa, evil. Santa, evil. We couldn't get anything else out of her."

  "And where is she now?"

  "She's still in the hospital. She wasn't hurt but no one knows what to do about her. Her mother can't even calm her down. I hear they're talking about putting her away in an institution on the mainland. It's the shock, the doctors say. The trauma. But we believe she must have seen the killer and that he was probably wearing a Santa outfit."

  I sighed and leaned back, a million thoughts rushing through my mind. "I don't think he's an ordinary killer," I said. "I’m not even sure he's human."

  Jack Ryder wrinkled his forehead. "What do you mean?"

  "Sit tight," I said and reached into my backpack. I pulled out all the copies I had made lately during my research and showed it to him.

  "What's all this?"

  "Your killer," I said.

  54

  We went through it all together. Every page, every article I had found and, for hours, I spoke about everything Sydney had told me, what Sara Andrews had said, and then about my own experiences.