Mistake in Christmas River

by Meg Muldoon

  I furrowed my brow.

  That I didn’t remember hearing about. Of course, I had a lot of other things on my mind in the late nineties. Namely what crazy color I should dye my hair and how to not let everyone see the pain I was going through after my mother had died.

  “This was before all the records were transferred digitally,” Daniel continued. “The officers were able to salvage a lot of files from the fire, but a few key ones from both the Amelia Delgado case and the Laura Baynes case were lost.”

  “What bad luck,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

  Just then, Huckleberry trotted up to us, carrying a muddy bone that he’d buried at some point in the meadow. He sat down in front of me, letting the bone drop at my feet.

  I reached out and rubbed his soft little head.

  “Vicky’s been studying the case for years,” Daniel continued. “Since she took the lieutenant job, I’ve been helping her with what I can. But I don’t think we’ve made the kind of progress she was hoping for when she moved her whole life here.”

  I shook my head sadly.

  Twenty-five years had gone by since anybody had seen Vicky’s sister alive.

  The odds of finding out what happened at this stage had to be close to none – at best.

  “Do you think anyone will ever find out what happened to them?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  Daniel hesitated, staring out into nothing for a long while.

  “I don’t know, Cin. I honestly don’t.”

  He reached for my hand.

  “But I won’t give up hope. Not for Amelia, or for the other missing woman, either. Or for any of the county’s cold cases.”

  “You can never give up hope, Cin.”

  I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “Pohly County sure lucked out when you ran for Sheriff,” I said.

  He smiled, and we both fell silent for a long time.

  “Say, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I just haven’t gotten around to doing it yet.”

  “Shoot,” I said.

  “I wanted to know – what do you think about soccer?”

  I lifted my head off of his shoulder and peered at him.

  “Huh?”

  “Soccer. When our kids are old enough, do you think we should sign them up to play?”

  My lips turned up at the pleasant change in the conversation.

  “It’s hard to say, considering there’s no kid yet – not even the beginnings of a kid yet.”

  “No, but there will be before we know it. And from what everyone tells me, once it gets going, things go fast. We might as well get all of this sorted out while we’ve got the time.”

  It was nice talking about the future like this – about a day when all this gray mist wasn’t hanging over everything. About a day when little Cinnamons and Daniels would be running around in this backyard meadow.

  “I never played soccer growing up, but I always liked the sport,” I said. “It seemed fun. The boys who played it in high school were always nice.”

  “The girls were, too,” Daniel said, giving me a big, mischievous joker smile.

  I rolled my eyes then punched him playfully.

  “I bet those girls liked you, Daniel Brightman. Riding around in that old truck, playing that guitar of yours by the lake at night like a modern day Romeo. I’m sure they liked you plenty.”

  “They might have,” he said, looking out at the meadow as Chadwick came into view and started trotting back to us. “But you see, my heart was already taken at that point.”

  I looked at him slyly.

  “Was it now?”

  He nodded.

  “Always was and always will be with you, my fiery pie baking beauty.”

  He lifted my chin, laying a soft, smoldering kiss on my lips.

  “Besides, I never played guitar for them,” he said. “I only brought that trick out for the girl I really cared about.”

  I felt my heart swell a little in my chest.

  “I doubt that,” I mumbled.

  “So what do you think about soccer?” Daniel said after a moment had passed. “Should we sign our kid up?”

  I got goosebumps again when he said “our kid.”

  “I like the idea,” I said, smiling. “Better than guitar lessons, I’d wager.”

  He laughed, a glimmer in his eye.

  Chapter 19

  “Say, there’s my girl!”

  “Huh?”

  I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was half past 8, and Daniel had already left for the day.

  My tailbone was throbbing, and for a moment, I forgot why.

  “Don’t you know the sound of your celebrity crush when you hear it?” the voice said.

  “Uhh… I’m sorry, I don’t—”

  I swallowed hard, trying to place the voice. My mind wasn’t operating at normal speeds yet.

  “Sorry – who’s this?”

  A big sigh crackled over the line.

  “Geez, it’s Rex, for goodness sakes,” he said. “Rex Dawson. You know – the handsome weatherman you paid a nice chunk of change to spend time with?”

  I felt a sinking feeling in my gut when I heard that.

  A feeling that nobody should have before coffee.

  At the Puppy Love Auction, I’d told Rex that I’d have to check my schedule before I could commit to a time for our lunch, and that I would call him to set it up later in the week.

  Secretly, I’d just been hoping he’d forget about the date altogether.

  But it looked like I wasn’t going to get out of it that easily.

  I sat up in bed.

  “Oh, yeah. Hi, Rex,” I said, trying not to sound as groggy and out of it as I felt.

  After the Geronimo Brewpub robbery the night before, I’d called Tiana and asked if she wouldn’t mind opening the shop alone today while I caught up on a little sleep.

  “So how about our date, little lady?” Rex’s throaty voice came through the speaker. “I’ve got this Friday wide open for yours truly.”

  There was that sinking feeling again in my gut.

  Not that I wasn’t flattered, but the idea of spending an hour alone with Rex just didn’t strike me as, well, fun.

  “Sorry, but I still have to check my schedule, Rex,” I said. “With Valentine’s Day coming up, I’m up to my neck in work at the shop. How about I get back to you next week?”

  “Sure thing, girly. I’m going to give you my assistant Roberta’s number to call back. She does all my scheduling and event booking. You got a pen?”

  I felt around on the nightstand until I found one, half-heartedly taking down the number on a scrap of paper, knowing I’d probably avoid calling her also.

  “Great, Rex. I’ll get back to you soon.”

  I felt a twinge of guilt at saying that, knowing I was being disingenuous.

  “See you soon, girly,” he said.

  I hung up, looking out the window, rubbing my face.

  My heart skipped a beat as the image of the robber flashed into my mind suddenly.

  I hadn’t gotten a good look at him – all I’d seen was the red T-shirt and the oversized bulky black jacket he’d been wearing. But it was almost as if I could still feel his energy around me somehow.

  The man was angry. He hadn’t said a word to me, but I could tell. I could feel it in the split second when he plowed into me, sending me flying across the pub’s floor.

  I was tempted to think that these kinds of things didn’t happen in small towns like Christmas River. But the truth was, break-ins and robberies like this did happen all the time in small towns. We weren’t anymore immune to greed and violence than anywhere else in the country.

  I knew I shouldn’t have been so surprised.

  But I always was when something like this happened in Christmas River.

  I stood up. My lower back cracked a little as I did, and I let out a groan.

  I started hobbling to the kitchen where
a cup of coffee and some much-needed Advil awaited me.

  Chapter 20

  “So Warren’s really doing okay?” Kara asked, her face drawn in a concerned expression.

  I nodded, rolling out a round of sour cream hazelnut dough that was going to be used as the crust in the Hunk of Burning Love Chocolate Chile Cream Pie that had become a hit at the pie food cart in Portland this February.

  The pie was an unusual one all right. Most people weren’t expecting a roasted kick of chile when they bit into a pie, but this one had it in spades. It wasn’t exactly for everyone, but much like my autumn hit – the Apple Green Chile Pie – this one had a loyal following that couldn’t seem to get enough of it. The Portland Daily had included this flavor in a Valentine’s Day sweets article a month ago, and since then, the demand for it at the Portland pie truck had gone through the roof.

  People here in Christmas River weren’t quite as daring palate-wise as the folks on the other side of the Cascades, but the pie had been selling pretty decently nonetheless.

  Its flashy name got a lot of attention.

  “Warren’s doing fine,” I said. “I went over to see him first thing this morning. He was a little shaken last night, but he seemed a lot better today. He was talking about the scolding he was going to give that criminal when the police caught him.”

  Despite being held at gunpoint by the robber, Warren hadn’t gotten a very good look at him, either. With the red t-shirt wrapped around his face, only the perp’s eyes were exposed during the robbery. Warren had said they were a shade of “cowardly hazel,” whatever that meant exactly. He’d been able to tell the police the type of gun the robber had. But he hadn’t seen much beyond that. The robber hadn’t even spoken to him.

  “Man, Cin – I’m so glad that he’s okay,” Kara said, putting a hand over her heart. “I’m glad you’re okay, too. That must have been scary.”

  She took a long sip of the Cherry Bomb Mocha she’d brought over from the Christmas River Coffee Shack, then shook her head.

  “You’d think that by living in a small town, all these crazy things wouldn’t happen, right? I mean, things are supposed to be safer here. That’s the bargain of living in small town America. You don’t have a Macy’s around the corner like in a big city, but you’re supposed to have peace of mind instead.”

  She glanced over at Laila. The little girl was sitting on the stool next to Kara, sucking on a spoon of chocolate pudding that I’d given her after mixing up a big batch of it for some of my Banana Chocolate Cream pies.

  “But I tell you, lately Cin? I’m not so sure if anywhere is safe. It’s a crazy, crazy world. Just look at everything that’s happened in the last couple of years – all the things you’ve gotten tangled up in.”

  “Well, part of the reason for that is because I’m married to the Sheriff,” I said, reaching for my own cherry mocha and taking a sip. “It’s hard to be the Sheriff’s wife and not get tangled up in things.”

  Kara nervously combed a hand through her long blond hair.

  “Maybe,” she said. “But last night’s robbery had nothing to do with you being married to Daniel. You finding Moira’s body back in December had nothing to do with that, either. Or that Dulany incident before that.”

  I studied her for a long moment. Her lips were fixed in a deep frown and she seemed genuinely troubled.

  “Sometimes I just worry about Laila growing up in a world like this,” she continued. “Christmas River is one of the safer places, you know? But even here, crazy things happen. And not just every once in a blue moon, either. They happen a lot, Cin. A lot.”

  I glanced past her shoulder and out the window for a long moment, watching the mist weave through the white trunks of the bare aspens.

  I’d be lying if some of what Kara was saying hadn’t been on my mind lately, too.

  It was hard to tell if the world had gotten crazier, or if we just heard more about it these days. But regardless, the thought of one day raising a child with the way things were sent rivers of panic through me if I thought too much about it.

  There was so much uncertainty, so much to fear.

  And so much to lose.

  I glanced over at little Laila. She was happily licking off the very last bits of the spoon, her tight little curls bouncing as she did. Those wide eyes of hers gazing at something out the window – her lips curling up into the slightest of smiles. A joke that neither Kara nor I would probably ever know about.

  “But there’s chocolate pudding, too,” I said.

  “Huh?”

  I glanced back at Kara, shaking my head.

  “Nothing.Just… I know it feels hopeless sometimes. But it’s not all bad, Kara. There’s good in the world, too. Laila’s part of it.”

  I smiled at my best friend.

  “You are, too,” I said.

  It was easy to focus on the bad, scary things in life. Especially when it seemed like that was all there was.

  But that was never true. Good was always right alongside it. You just needed to look for it.

  Kara smiled back at me.

  “Your optimism makes me sick sometimes, you know that?” she said.

  I let out a laugh and then shrugged.

  “You just caught me at a good moment. Believe me, I haven’t been feeling all that optimistic lately.”

  I gazed at Laila.

  “Still, I’ve been trying.”

  Kara nodded slightly, then grabbed the spoon that Laila was now finished with. She went over to the sink, rinsing it off and placing it in the dishwasher.

  I pressed the edges of the sour cream dough round I was working on into the edges of a pie tin.

  “Well, I guess I better head back to the shop,” she said. “Things have been so slow there lately, I’ve been going out of my mind. But like I learned at my small business conference last year – it’s the foolish business woman who doesn’t take advantage of the slow times to get ahead.”

  “If things get too slow there, you know where to find me,” I said. “I’ve got a batch of lemon gingersnaps that’ll be coming out of the oven in exactly half an hour.”

  She slid into her coat and grinned as she eyed the oven.

  “I swear, sometimes I think that you’re evil in an apron, Cinnamon Peters. Don’t you know that I’m on a diet?”

  “So are half the people out in the dining room right now,” I quipped back. “You don’t hear them going on about it.”

  Kara grinned and picked up Laila. She started heading out the back door.

  “Hey, you haven’t said yet,” I shouted after her.

  “Said what?”

  “How many books you’ve sold.”

  “Oh, it’s been slow today. Only 16 so far.”

  I stopped what I was doing, feeling my eyes go wide.

  “Sixteen!?” I shouted enthusiastically. “Isn’t that the most you’ve sold in a day since you published The Magic Slipper?”

  She turned back and her pink lips spread into a thin smile.

  “What can I say? People love to read about love this time of year.”

  “Sounds like they mostly just love your book.”

  She laughed.

  “See you later, Cin.”

  “Bye you guys,” I said, waving at Laila.

  Kara stepped outside the door and closed it behind her. But a second later, it was back open again, her head peeking in.

  “Say, Cin?”

  I looked up, raising my eyebrows.

  “You’re right about that chocolate pudding thing, too,” she said.

  I smiled.

  Chapter 21

  I decided to skip my usual run that afternoon on account of my sore tailbone. I knew old Crabtree would miss his daily ear pets, but I decided I would bring him double the carrots and apples tomorrow to make up for my absence.

  Instead of huffing and puffing up a steep hill in the woods, I spent my lunchtime sipping coffee in the back corner of the kitchen, scrolling through news stories on my phone.
>
  After talking to Daniel last night about Vicky’s missing sister, I felt compelled to learn everything I could about the case. I wanted to know if what I remembered from back then was accurate, and whether there was anything helpful in the news accounts of the time about the disappearances.

  But mostly, I wanted to know how a woman steps off of a bus one morning and vanishes from the face of the earth.

  I typed “Amelia Delgado” into Google and scrolled through a series of news stories about her and the other missing woman, Laura Baynes. The later accounts had nicknamed them “The Greyhound Girls.”

  I shuddered as my eyes scanned over the news stories.

  A paper in Portland had written some follow-up articles about the disappearances as part of a weekly cold case column. In the articles, I learned that Amelia was 20 years old when she went missing, and that she’d been a bartender at an Irish pub in Portland called The Bitter Root. The newspaper account painted a picture of Amelia as a young woman who had gotten lost in the cracks. By all accounts, she’d been a bright student at her high school in Gresham, and had graduated with a high GPA. But something happened in the ensuing two years. She started smoking and getting tattoos and dating older men that her mother didn’t approve of. She hung around bars on the wrong side of the tracks. She had lived at home up until her disappearance, and her mother had told the paper that right before she left in February of 1993, Amelia stole her ATM card and withdrew a big chunk of money. When Amelia’s mother found out, they got into a fight and Amelia impulsively boarded a bus to Boise, presumably to stay with her sister, Vicky. Amelia packed a bag, left the house, and that was last her mother ever saw of her.

  The bus driver of the Greyhound to Boise remembered Amelia being on the bus as far as The Marionberry Truck Stop Diner in Christmas River. He didn’t realize she was missing until they had nearly crossed the border over into Idaho.

  In the years since, there had been very few leads as to what happened to Amelia Delgado. The article used the term “a young woman lost in the cracks” multiple times to describe Amelia’s fate.

  It was thought that she may have just runaway.

  That was, of course, until the second woman went missing.