by Meg Muldoon
I just needed a distraction, and burying myself in a stack of old photos and memories seemed like a good enough one.
After he had gotten up from his nap, Warren had found me sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through the cellophane pages. It wasn’t long before he joined me in a trip down memory lane.
“I don’t ever remember her smiling like this,” I said, pointing to a photograph of my mom posing with Marie, who had been her maid of honor at the wedding.
My mom wasn’t exactly an unhappy person when I knew her, but even as a child, I knew that she was troubled. When my father was around, the two of them fought all the time, and I remember her crying a lot. When he left us, the crying spells didn’t stop. If anything, there were more of them.
During her last years, before the accident, she’d become a little happier. But I never knew the youthful, radiant bride in the photograph staring up at me.
That woman was long gone by the time I came around.
Warren stroked his beard, looking at the old picture.
“Sometimes life is unkind,” he said. “It was unkind to your mom. But it wasn’t all bad. She got a few joyful moments in there. Like her wedding day and the day you were born. A couple of nice trips she took with her girlfriends. Sometimes, a few good moments is all we can ask for in life.”
I nodded as a hollow sadness settled in my chest.
It made me sad that her life had been that way. That those good moments were so few and far between.
She was a good person. She should have had a good life too.
But sometimes, most of the time in fact, how good you were didn’t matter. Sometimes, you just had bad luck.
Warren put a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re not anything like your mom, Cin,” he said. “I mean, you’re smart and pretty like she was. But your life isn’t going to be like hers. You’ve got more luck than she ever did. Yours is going to be overflowing with good moments.”
I patted the top of his aging, freckled hand.
“It already has been,” I said, glancing back at him.
His eyes went a little glassy. He looked away, before getting up and going to the kitchen.
I looked back down at the book and flipped toward the back. There were some photos of my mom and Marie that were taken a few years after she was married. Marie had taken my mom to Hawaii for her 30th birthday, and the photos showed the two of them sitting on a boat, the ocean shining brilliantly behind them.
My mom was smiling, but already you could tell that things were starting to go wrong in her life. That smile wasn’t nearly as bright as it had been in the photos at the front of the album.
“She always talked about the fun she had on that trip,” Warren said, sitting back down and pushing a pint of pumpkin beer across the coffee table to me. “She hadn’t ever been outside of Oregon before that, you know.”
“Must have been a shock,” I said, thinking about how I felt the first time I went to Maui—how humid and foreign it felt compared to the dry, arid forests of our home.
“She said that she never sweated so much in all her life,” he said, smiling. “But I think she liked it there. I don’t think she wanted to come back.”
I didn’t blame her, knowing what was back here waiting for her. A marriage that was falling apart and the responsibility of raising a young child while working full-time.
I glanced at the last photo from the trip, one of her and Marie at the beach, wearing bathing suits and sitting beneath a palm tree. You could tell that it was toward the end of their trip—both of them were deeply tanned.
I started flipping to the next page in the book, which showed pictures of me as a child, when I suddenly stop.
Something in the beach photo suddenly caught my eye.
I flipped back, and studied the picture again.
A pendant.
A silver pendant attached to a necklace that hung around Marie’s neck.
A necklace that hadn’t been visible in any of the other photos.
My stomach dropped when I saw it, though it took a few moments for my mind to catch up.
I quickly shut the photo album and jumped to my feet, making the connection.
It was the same necklace. I was sure of it.
“What’s wrong, Cinny Bee?” Warren asked after me, watching me hurry up the stairs.
“I have to go to the station,” I said.
Chapter 44
He leaned back in the chair, stared out the window at the driving snow, and didn’t say anything for a while.
I sat at the edge of his desk, my hair dripping with melted snow, waiting for him to say something about the open photo album lying next to the two photos of Anthony Matthews
But he didn’t speak.
I finally couldn’t take it anymore.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
He grabbed his cowboy hat off the desk and started plucking at the leather belt.
“It’s probably just a coincidence,” he said. “They’re both wearing St. Francis medals. There probably weren’t that many places to get a St. Francis medal in Christmas River back then. Not too many Catholics in this town. They probably just got them from the same store.”
I shook my head.
“It’s the same one,” I said. “You know that it is. Marie is wearing the same St. Francis medal that Anthony Matthews is wearing in these photos. And this one of her was taken several years after he disappeared.”
He leaned forward and studied the images a little longer, then looked back up at me.
“Well, say you’re right,” he said. “What do you suppose it means?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But it makes me think Marie might have known him. They would have been about the same age.”
Daniel didn’t say anything. He laced his fingers together, resting them on his stomach, and looked back out the window.
“What if she knows something about what happened to him?” I asked. “The photo was on the porch the morning that she disappeared. And then here they are wearing the same medal. There has to be a connection.”
“Maybe,” he said, glancing at me for a second, and then back out the window.
I suddenly realized that something was different about him.
I had thought he was just tired and quiet from his long drive here.
But now I realized that there was something more.
Someone had told him.
He’d caught a whiff of the rumors spreading around this town like the plague.
Rumors about me and one of his deputies.
I bit my lip, a feeling of regret settling at the base of my stomach.
I should have told him earlier. This morning, when I had a chance.
I got off the desk and started pacing, running my hands through my wet hair.
“You know what this town’s like,” I said. “They’ve got nothing better to do than to make things up about people.”
I looked at him, afraid of the judgment I’d see in his face.
But there was none.
Just a blank expression that scared me even more.
“I stopped at home earlier to drop my bag off,” he said. “I saw that you’d been there.”
I waited nervously for what came next.
“It kind of made me feel all warm inside,” he continued “Seeing the bed made and the smell of the fire from the wood stove. Made me think that you missed me.”
“Of course I missed you,” I said.
“Made me think that maybe you were thinking about moving in with me after the wedding.”
I plopped down in the seat across from him, my legs feeling shaky.
I started saying something.
“I—”
“Then I saw the empty bottle of wine in the recycling,” he said. “And the almost empty bottle of Jim Beam. I didn’t think too much of it until Norma at reception mentioned something she’d heard. Some town gossip about you and Haley Drutman getting into an argument a
t the shop. About…”
He trailed off.
I bit my lip and stared hard into his face.
Town gossip was one thing.
But believing it was another.
Daniel had to be smarter than to believe the mutterings of a few old ladies.
“It’s true that Owen was over at your house,” I said. “I was talking to him about the case. He drank too much, and couldn’t drive himself home. That accounts for the rumors.”
I got up and walked around the desk, leaning over him.
“But, Daniel, you have to know that I would never…”
I looked deep into his eyes, letting him know I meant it. Letting him know that doing something like that to him was unfathomable.
“How could you think I would do that to you?” I said, in case he needed to hear it out loud.
He broke my stare, and sighed.
“I know you wouldn’t,” he finally said. “But I just didn’t like that he was over there with you. At my house like that. Drinking with you there.”
He stroked the stubble on his chin.
“Maybe I’m taking the low road here, but I don’t know of too many guys who would like their wife in that situation, with them being hundreds of miles away.”
He looked back out the window. And I could tell that it really did bother him.
And I felt stupid and bad all at the same time. Stupid for giving the gossips in this town ammo to hurt him with. Bad for being so thoughtless.
But I had goose bumps on my arms.
It hadn’t been lost on me that Daniel had just called me his wife.
“I’m sorry,” I said, rubbing his shoulder. “I had just run into Evan earlier while walking over to your house, and I was feeling kind of, well… it was nice to have somebody around in case he came back.”
Daniel looked up suddenly at me, deep angry creases settling between his eyebrows.
“I told that son of a bitch Evan to stay away from you,” he said.
I sighed.
“Guess he didn’t get the message.”
Daniel shook his head and went quiet again.
“It’s not an excuse though,” I said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I guess I forgot what this town is like, the way they talk.”
“I don’t care what they’re saying,” he said. “I just care about the truth.”
He stroked my hand, and then pulled me into the chair with him.
“Nothing happened?” he asked.
“No,” I said, resting my arms on his shoulders.
I stared deep into his green eyes again, and then ran my hands through his hair. His expression lightened.
“I wouldn’t do such a thing,” I said. “Not when I’m just a few weeks away from getting all of your money.”
That got him. He smiled, and I knew that we were okay.
I kissed his neck, breathing him in deeply.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’ve been losing my mind without you here.”
“What? The invincible Cinnamon Peters, losing her mind? Now that, you can’t sell me on. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Well, planning a wedding will bring even the most invincible girl to her knees,” I said.
“Wanna get eloped?” he asked, for what seemed like the tenth time. “Leave all this behind and take off on our honeymoon early?”
“Hmm,” I said. “Tempting, Mr. Brightman. Very tempting. But I think we’re in too deep now. I’m pretty sure Warren would kill us if he didn’t get to see us wed.”
“You’re probably right,” he said. “And I don’t want to take Warren on if I can avoid it. You know that old man fights dirty.”
I hit him playfully.
“You know I’m gonna tell him you said that,” I said.
He laughed.
We sat a few moments like that, watching the wind whip the snow around outside like a pack of sled dogs.
“So did you finish up everything you needed to in California?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
He shook his head.
“When do you have to go back?” I asked.
“Not until we get everything straightened out here,” he said. “I’m not leaving until we find out who came after you.”
“What if you don’t find him?” I asked.
“Oh, I’ll find him,” he said, looking up at me seriously.
He brushed away a strand of loose hair from my face, and rubbed my cheek with his thumb.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
That was everything I had needed to hear for the past week. And for a moment, while he held me tightly, I forgot about the madness that had become my life. About Marie disappearing. About the Christmas tree. About the man in the mask who hurt Huckleberry. About the florist, the venue, the dress.
About the lies being spewed right now by the Christmas River rumor mill.
There was just me and him, and the sound of the wind blowing hard outside.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Owen pass by the office.
Our eyes met for a split second, and then he quickly walked past, disappearing out into the reception area.
And the brief moment in fantasy land collapsed.
Chapter 45
The wolf was back.
Snapping at my heels while I ran through the forest. Each step, I sank deeper and deeper into the snow. I struggled like a gazelle stuck in a tar pit, the heavy breathing of the predator at my back.
The wolf’s steely teeth ripped into the satin of my wedding gown. Soon, he was ripping into my legs. The smell of coppery blood stained the cold air as the wolf pinned me down into the snow.
I lay on my back, staring up at the star-studded sky, crying out in pain.
A shadow passed over me.
The figure of a man came into my view.
I couldn’t see his face. There was only darkness where eyes, lips and a nose should have been. Only a deep, pervading darkness.
I screamed.
***
I woke up gasping for air, every muscle in my body tense and strained. My mouth as dry as a dead man’s.
I sat up, beads of sweat running down the sides of my face.
The room was burning up.
I realized that I had left the small floor heater on by accident before going to bed, and the room had turned into a sweltering sauna.
I grabbed the glass of water by the night stand and sucked it down greedily. I got up and went over to the heater, switching the setting to “fan.”
I sat back down at the edge of the bed, trying desperately to calm down.
I tried to think of Daniel earlier, when he held me in his arms, telling me that everything was going to be okay.
I tried to convince myself that he was right.
And I wished that he was here, in my bed, instead of at the station, working himself down to the bone trying to catch a criminal.
Just then, I heard something.
A noise.
A rap, at the window.
My heart caught in my throat. I held my breath, straining to listen.
I jumped.
Another rap, louder this time.
The man in the mask with the crowbar flashed into my mind, and for a moment, I was paralyzed with fear. The same kind of fear I’d felt in my dream.
But then I heard a voice, muffled by the wind outside.
Cinn-a-mon.
I forced my legs to move and pressed my face up against the cold window, peering down into the darkness.
When I saw him down below, all I could think of was Haley Drutman’s sour face looking back at me.
And what the rest of the town would think if they could see him there, below my window, in the middle of the night.
Chapter 46
I was being idiotic.
Stupid, thoughtless, dumb… there were a lot of words to describe the way I was acting at the moment.
By all rights, I should have been safely t
ucked away beneath the cozy, warm blankets of my bed right now. Not driving into the cold, snowy woods in the dead of night.
And especially not with Deputy Owen McHale.
But there I was, having completely lost any common sense I’d ever had. Chancing my reputation, and Daniel’s trust.
I was kicking myself.
But there was a good reason we were going out into the woods at this hour. Owen had told me there was a break in the case, and that I needed to see it for myself. And even though I knew I shouldn’t have been there sitting in the passenger’s seat driving into the dark night, I had already made my choice.
“You really should have told Daniel about this first,” I said, breaking the silence that had encased the car like a layer of ice.
“Well, if he weren’t asleep on a stack of files at his desk, I would have,” Owen said, glancing up into the rearview mirror. “Besides, there’s a reason I got you instead. I need you to see this. I need your opinion.”
I stared out the car window, watching the ghostly, frosty trees. They looked like towering stone giants.
“I… uh, I wanted to say something to you, too,” he said, glancing over at me.
“And what would that be?” I asked, crossing my arms.
Maybe it wasn’t right, but I was mad at Owen. Mad that his drunkenness had made us both the subject of town gossip. Mad that I had to have showdowns with 20-year-olds in front of the entire town because of him.
He took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” he said. “I’m sorry that I’ve put you in a bad position.”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s my fault,” he said. “I shouldn’t drink. I’ve, uh, I’ve had some problems with it in the past.”
The silence dragged between us as the snow tires of the patrol car rolled along the snowy road.
“I hope I didn’t hurt you,” he said, glancing over at me. “You know, when I fell.”
“You’re a lot heavier than you look,” I said.
He didn’t respond for a while.
Then he cleared his throat.
“You were kind to me,” he said. “You could have turned me out, but you took my shoes off and gave me a blanket instead”
“You’re giving me too much credit,” I said. “I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t have turned you out in this kind of weather.”
