NOT a CREATURE WAS STIRRING

by Christina Freeburn

  Milton convinced the nurse to let Grayson speak to my mom. My attorney was setting me up for Samuel’s murder. With shaking hands, I snapped pictures of the Facebook page. Nearby, I heard a door creak open. It was time to leave. I grabbed the photo albums and headed for the front door. I hurried into the main office, snagging the photo of Milton, Samuel, and the unknown woman as I passed the stacked boxes.

  “What are you doing?” Milton’s angry voice bounced off the walls.

  The albums slipped from my hands, scattering by my feet. Quickly, I leaned over and gathered them to my chest, pivoting toward the door. I left the framed photograph on the ground. A crack spread from one end of the photo to the other.

  Milton squared back his shoulders and stalked over, his hefty weight shifting in a menacing way. At first glance, Milton seemed like a shorter and balder version of Santa and he was usually as jolly as Santa checking off the nice list. When he morphed into his lawyer persona, there was an instant switch. His gaze turned steely. His gait was more of a stalk than a stroll. The weight he carried in his middle seemed more like a rock than a bowl full of jelly. He picked up the damaged photo frame. “Why were you taking this?”

  “I remembered you had a photograph of a younger Samuel on your wall and I wanted a better look at it. He hadn’t changed much.”

  “No, he hadn’t.” Milton breathed in deeply, his broad shoulders and rounded gut straining the buttons on his camouflage hunting jacket. “That doesn’t explain why it was in your possession.”

  “I thought Helen would like a copy. Renovating your office?”

  “So, you were just going to take it with you?” Milton said. “What’s going on, Merry? You’re acting really skittish.”

  I hadn’t realized it, but I’d been backing up the whole time I was talking. “Just have a lot to do today.”

  “You’re leaving before you talked to me. I thought you had something important to show me.”

  “I wanted a copy of my divorce decree. But if you’re busy, I can come back later.” With the police.

  Milton grimaced. The lawyer was gone and now I was witnessing a child on the naughty list having to fess up. “Merry, you’re not divorced. Samuel never signed the decree.”

  “Wh—” Sounds locked in my throat.

  Milton walked back to his office and returned quickly with a document in his hands. My heart thudded. Had I closed the Facebook page?

  He held out the bottom page of the decree. Only my signature was on the bottom. Merry Noel Winters.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I was still married to Samuel. I lied to a homicide detective. Inadvertently. I had a feeling the detective wouldn’t believe it. Matter-of-fact, I now had a motive for murdering my ex-husband—he wasn’t my ex-husband.

  “Samuel never showed up in court to sign it.” Milton walked passed me and stood near the front door.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought I could convince him to change his mind. I was wrong. He asked me to stop by with the decree on Thursday because he was ready to sign it. I knew he was up to something, and I was right. He wanted to keep money from you.” Milton paused, a glint in his eye. “A lot of it.”

  He saw Samuel on Thursday. Before he died. For all I knew, the meeting took place in the RV. “I don’t want his money. I’m going home.”

  “After everything he put you through, dragging out the divorce and making you incur more legal fees, you deserve some of the money.”

  I tried to walk passed him. He held out an arm blocking me. I stepped back. “I don’t care anymore. I’d just like to go.”

  He locked the front door and moved his bulk to block the exit. “Show me the albums.”

  Alarm bells went off in my head. I clasped them to my body like a shield. “I want to leave.”

  “Not until I get those albums.”

  That was the last thing I wanted to do. I backed up, nearly tripping over a rolling chair. Milton charged toward me. I kicked the chair in his direction. It slammed into him. I ran down the hallway toward the private office. Milton cursed.

  I reached Milton’s office and slammed the door shut. The door knob twisted. I threw my body against the door, pressing it close, and locked it.

  Milton pounded on the door. “Merry, I need those albums.”

  “And you would’ve had them if you hadn’t started acting like a creep.” I scanned the room for something to protect me. The double-line landline phone. It was hefty. I unhooked the phone from the cord.

  Where to hide the albums? Frantically, I searched for a place. Closet? Too easy. Desk. It was locked. Under the rug? Stop. Milton would know where to find the albums in his office. What I needed was a cavalry and proof of the album. Milton was the one who tore out the pictures. I was sure of it.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Milton said in a pleasant voice.

  Right, like I’d fall for that. Bet he said that to Samuel before he shoved him into the bench. I fumbled my cell phone out of my coat pocket. I hit Brett’s number.

  “Merry—”

  “I’m at Milton’s office. Get here now.”

  Milton pounded on the door. I let out a little yelp.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I think he killed Samuel.” I hung up the phone. I didn’t have time to talk. I snapped pictures of the photo album, sending them to Brett one after the other. It was quiet. Oh my God! There was another way into the office. The back door. My gaze fell on the door that I had assumed was a closet. Milton was coming for me.

  I had to escape. I unlocked the door and leaned out, listening for Milton. Nothing. There was a scratching sound at the closet door. I scurried out of the room, the books tight in my grasp. The front door was clear. Freedom.

  A fist shot out from a gaping blackhole in the hallway striking me in the collar bone and knocking me backwards into the wall. I screamed. The bathroom. I forgot about the bathroom. My head clunked on the dry wall. My body slid to a sitting position. The books tumbled from my hands. I tried to reach for the closest one. My hand laid by my side, refusing to budge.

  Frantically, he flipped through it. “I didn’t want to do that.”

  Liar. I kept the reprimand to myself and tried pushing myself up. The throbbing in my head was making it hard to move my feet. My muscles weren’t obeying.

  “Where did you get these albums?”

  I inched over, hoping once my senses returned I’d have a clear shot to the front door.

  Milton fixed his attention on me and frowned. “Answer the question.”

  I pressed my lips together. No way was I telling him.

  “Samuel gave them to you. What did he tell you?”

  Since it didn’t sound like he was asking a question, I didn’t confirm or deny where he thought I got the albums. Better he thought Samuel handed them to me rather than Helen.

  Milton held his hand out to me. “Let me help you.”

  So, he could knock me down again. I didn’t think so. I hid my hands behind my back, craning my neck to the side. The blinds were closed, and I couldn’t see through the small window at the top of the door. It was hard to tell if Brett had arrived.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. I blinked them away. Showing fear wouldn’t help me. Men like Milton drew strength from it. I was horrible at choosing men, whether to marry or call a friend. “You knew I didn’t want to be married to Samuel anymore. He was a threat to my mother’s well-being. You should’ve told me that he didn’t sign the decree.”

  “I thought I could change his mind.” The way his gaze darted around told me that wasn’t the complete truth. There was something else. Now wasn’t the time to push the man for it. “I was wrong. I’m sorry about that.”

  The consequence of Milton’s withholding the information smacked me as hard as his fist had. �
�That’s why the detective thinks I murdered Samuel. I lied about the divorce.”

  “I’ll tell him you didn’t know.”

  “Why would he believe that? He’s positive I killed Samuel. You saying I didn’t know is hardly likely to change his mind. It doesn’t make any sense that you wouldn’t have told me. He’ll think you’re trying to protect me.”

  “Not if I tell him everything…” Milton trailed off. His shoulders rounded forward, and his stomach pouched out. The intimidating figure left and in its wake was a defeated and shamed man. Leaning against the wall, Milton slid to a sitting position. “I’m so sorry, Merry. I don’t know how all of this happened. Yes, I do. I just never thought it would lead to all of this. I didn’t kill Samuel. But, I might have helped orchestrate it. I told a woman from his past about the lottery ticket. I figured it served him right to have to deal with her, since I’d likely have to deal with someone from my past.”

  Shadows crossed in front of the window. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Season’s Greetings didn’t have that many officers on duty during a shift. I figured Brett would come even if ordered not to, but the extra body?

  I didn’t have to contemplate for long as Detective Grayson peered through the window. Our eyes gazes locked. His brows rose. I gave him a shaky smile.

  “Now is your chance to right your wrongs,” I said. “We have company.”

  Milton sat in one of the gray leather chairs reserved for clients. He was slumped down, reminding of me a child getting a well-deserved scolding. Two of the three local officers left. The one remaining behind was stationed near the door, making sure no one came in and was searching for evidence in the boxes Milton had packed up. Detective Grayson wasn’t any more willing to accept “I didn’t kill Samuel” as proof of innocence from Milton than he had from me. That made me feel a little better.

  Brett had pulled the second leather chair far away from Milton and stood between me and my divorce attorney. My head was leaned against the seat rest, holding a bag of frozen mangos to the back of my head and causing me to peer through the bottom half of my glasses to observe everything. It was hurting my neck and giving me a headache.

  Grayson closed one of the photo albums and pushed it away. He brought the second one in front of him and opened it. “I’m having a hard time figuring out how these albums caused a battle. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in them. What led you to believe Mr. Dellwood killed Samuel?”

  Okay, so I wasn’t quite off the hook with the detective. “That’s the issue,” I said. “There’s nothing in some of the spots. The photos were removed. Milton was angry I wouldn’t hand him the books. Why get so angry if you weren’t hiding something? Huge.” Like murder.

  “Ms. Winters has made a good point. Care to explain, Counselor?” Grayson fixed a hard stare on Milton.

  “As I said, I believed Samuel had given them to her and shared a personal detail about my life I’d rather not get out.” Milton shifted uncomfortably.

  “What would that be?” Grayson tilted his head toward me and Brett. “I can request them to leave.”

  “No, Merry has a right to know. This has affected her life more than anyone.” Milton drew in a deep breath then released it. “It has to do with the picture Merry was looking at.”

  “The one of you and Samuel with that girl. I thought that was Barbara.”

  Milton let out a sad chuckle. “No, that wasn’t Barbara. It was my girlfriend in college. As a joke, and because we wanted an easy class, Samuel and I took ceramics. It was a lot harder than we realized. Samuel was pretty good at it, I was only interested in impressing a pretty girl I fell hard for.”

  “Why did you hang up the photo?” I asked.

  “To remind myself to be careful of my choices. I fell in lust, we had sex many times and one of them resulted in a pregnancy. When the kid was born I was ecstatic. I had a son. When he got a little older, I realized her son wasn’t quite right. No way was he mine.”

  “Your son,” I corrected. Milton was a horrible human being. I was willing to forgive him for striking me, but not for dismissing a child—his child—in such a cruel way.

  “She said he was, I denied it. Our relationship faltered.”

  “You left her because your child wasn’t perfect.” The disgust was clear in Detective Grayson’s voice. At least that man had a redeeming quality.

  “Whether he was truly mine or not doesn’t matter,” Milton said. “What matters is that Samuel knew about that transgression and was blackmailing me for it. He brought me pictures of me and the girl and said if I agreed to let him back date the decree, he’d give them to me. If not, he’d post them on social media and let everyone know the man who was planning on running for city council dumped his kid because of a disability. So, I happened to let it slip a few times that Samuel won twelve million dollars.”

  “That’s why so many people posted links to GoFundMe campaigns on his Facebook page,” I said, regretting it immediately as Grayson’s attention zinged over to me. “Why did you post on his page as Gary Meadows? And how does Evelyn Graham fit into this? You were logged into Facebook as him and—”

  The detective’s ire shifted to me. “I have this, Ms. Winters.”

  “This is when I’ll invoke my right to an attorney before I say anything else,” Milton said.

  Twenty-Four

  “I don’t think he killed him,” I said as Brett walked me back to my vehicle. “Why say so much if you knew it would make you a suspect in a man’s death?”

  “Because he said exactly what he wanted to say. I don’t trust the guy.” Brett’s steps were heavy, anger echoing through with each one.

  “I don’t trust him either. Yet, I still don’t think he killed Samuel.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he had a chance to really hurt me and didn’t.”

  Brett froze and gaped at me. “Are you serious? That’s it. That’s your reasoning? He didn’t kill you, so he didn’t kill Samuel.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid.”

  Brett flushed. “Merry—”

  I held up my hand, silencing him. “You are. If Milton was trying to get away with murder, why have me around to tell people what he did? Why reveal what he did to the police? He felt heartsick when he told me that he thought he orchestrated Samuel’s death by telling people about the money. Samuel wouldn’t be the first lottery winner murdered right after, or before, he received his winnings. I bet Samuel hadn’t signed the ticket yet. He’d want to make sure that we were divorced first, or I might have been entitled to some of the money.”

  Brett nodded. “That’s what I figured. It’s the only reason your ex-husband would want to back date the divorce. Where’s the ticket?”

  I shrugged. “That’s the twelve-million-dollar question.”

  We continued to my car and as it came into view, it was my turn to abruptly stop. The passenger door of my SUV was wide open. Papers fluttered by me. I stomped on one then picked it up. My insurance card. I bet my registration was also loose. I moved toward my car.

  Brett snagged my arm. “Hold up.”

  He was right. Proceed with caution. There was a missing lottery ticket, and this was the second vehicle I owned that was vandalized. I was regretting not telling the police about the intruder leaving my house this morning. What if I was wrong and it wasn’t Cassie camping out in my attic? Or even if it was, had I made the correct choice in protecting her? The intruder in my house, the vandalism of the RV, could have helped proved my innocence. Brett’s earlier words flickered in my head: You tend to allow your emotions to rule over common sense and self-preservation. He was right.

  Brett pulled out his cell and called the police. The police department was within eye sight and no one there had noticed someone tossing everything out of my vehicle. Of course, the police had been busy with saving me from Milton.

/>   I drew in a sharp breath. Milton had slipped out of the office to trash my car or his confession was a way to tie up the police. The guy was nothing but a conniving liar and likely a murderer. “He did this.”

  He pocketed his phone. “The police are on the way.”

  “This is the reason for Milton’s confession. He stalled us long enough for someone to search my car for the ticket. With Samuel dead and almost buried, the other most likely candidate to have the ticket was the person the police zeroed in on as the murderer. Me.” I pointed toward the police station. “He knows where the police station is located. They’d notice someone searching my car. Best way to get away with it was to have the officers somewhere else. Like his office.”

  Brett frowned. “You’re in danger. Whoever is looking for the ticket doesn’t know you don’t that have it. Eventually, they’ll lose their patience and demand it. What will stop them from harming you?”

  “I have to agree with your attorney.” Detective Grayson joined us, snapping on a pair of gloves. “The murderer believes you have the ticket.”

  “At least you don’t think I’m the murderer anymore.”

  “You made a good suspect.” Grayson picked up an item from the ground and deposited it into a bag.

  I ignored the comment. “Whoever it is has to know I don’t have it now. They ransacked the RV, my vehicle, and I think my garage.” I ticked off on my fingers all the times I noticed things were out of place. “I might be forgetting one.”

  Both men stared at me.

  “Has anyone approached you about the ticket?” Grayson asked.

  “Cassie. She said she left an event ticket in the RV. I think she meant the lottery ticket. Samuel would’ve told his daughter he won. I also hinted to her that I found a ticket.”

  “Why?” Brett practically screamed at me.