Crazy In Love: A Standalone Christmas Thriller

by Ivy Smoak

  I threw the towel back down on the floor. When I found him, I'd make him hang it up like a normal human instead of the Neanderthal he was. He was so freaking annoying. I was a housewife, not a maid paid to clean up his shit. I shifted the knife in my hand and walked back out into the bedroom. Where the hell could his naked ass be?

  Snuggle Muffins started barking again.

  "Please stop it." I lifted him into my arms. "You keep freaking me out." He quieted down as soon as he was in my arms. I'd gotten the most needy dog in the world. But I was pretty sure he comforted me as much as I comforted him. And I was never letting him go again.

  A siren sounded in the distance. My first thought was that someone had called 9-1-1 when they spotted a butt naked Noah streaking the snowy neighborhood. That would be enough to call the police. It was possible that he was also brandishing one of my knives though. Maybe even yelling things about his crazy wife kidnapping him.

  But then the vehicle started honking. By the sound I knew what was actually going on and it had nothing to do with Noah. I threw open the curtains, not caring that my knife sliced through the fabric. The fire truck was still far away. I could just make out its lights a few streets over. But I was positive that Santa Claus would be sitting atop it, waving. The fire department had one of the firefighters dress up like Santa and drive by before Christmas every year. They all tossed candy to the children and spread Christmas cheer. I always loved the spectacle.

  A part of me wanted to stay by the window and wait for the truck to reach my street. But I couldn't do that right now. I let the curtains fall back in place. First of all, I didn't have time to wave at Santa when there was a madman loose in my house. And second, if I waved, a knife or a dog would have been in my hand. Neither seemed particularly sane. So now I wasn’t just missing out on relaxing during the first snowfall of the year with a cup of hot chocolate. I was also missing Santa gracing my neighborhood. Noah was ruining everything. God, I hated my stupid husband.

  "Noah!" I called. This was ridiculous. "I know you're in here! Come out!" I walked back into the hall. My eyes glanced up at the attic for just a second. No way in hell was I going up there. It was the only place in the house that was creepier than the basement. As far as I was concerned, if he was up there, he could stay there. It was his. Squatter's rights galore.

  But if he was anywhere else in the house, I was going to find him. Snuggle Muffins and I searched the other upstairs rooms quickly. Noah was nowhere in sight. Then we walked downstairs and proceeded to turn on all the lights in the house. Every single one. We were lit up more than any of the over-decorated houses in our neighborhood. We checked all the rooms we hadn't yet, including the small downstairs bathroom and even the hall closet. Noah wasn't nestled behind the toilet or the winter coats. He was nowhere to be found at all. But when we went back into the kitchen, there was an opened jar of peanut butter on the counter and a piece of bread sitting on a plate. No peanut butter had made its way onto the bread.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. All Noah was doing was showering and making sandwiches. He wasn't doing anything menacing. It really didn't seem like he intended to hurt me. At least, I hoped. I'd certainly given him plenty of opportunities to jump out and stab me. Yet, I was still standing. I just had a few things to clean up, thanks to his sloppiness.

  I lifted the bread and smiled despite the mess. Noah was hungry. The power was back in my hands. The only food he'd had all day was cold bacon. I knew how to get him out of wherever he was hiding. I pulled the weed out of the utensil drawer. It was time to bake Noah a special treat to lure him out. If there was one thing I was good at, it was baking. All proper housewives were.

  Chapter 19

  Sunday

  It was good that I had a recipe or else I would have made the pot brownies all wrong. It seemed logical to just substitute weed in place of some of the flour. But apparently I had to make weed butter to integrate the drug more seamlessly. After a few clicks on Pinterest I came to the best weed butter recipe.

  The siren growing louder outside was making it hard to concentrate. Or maybe it was the fact that my phone was shaking in my hands. Or that I kept glancing up every two seconds to see if Noah was about to murder me. It really felt like he was somewhere in the kitchen, even though I'd already double-checked every hiding place, pantry included.

  Focus. The article wanted me to make the weed butter in a Crockpot. Were they kidding? There had to be a faster method than this. I didn't want to spend the rest of the night waiting to trap Noah. It was bad enough that it felt like he was watching me right this second.

  I turned around, but it was just Snuggle Muffins staring into the hall. For some reason that was even creepier. I knew that Snuggle Muffins knew where Noah was. The staring-into-the-void thing he had going on wasn’t fooling anyone. But I didn't know how to make him show me. "Are you excited about seeing Santa on the fire truck, Snuggle Muffins?"

  He didn't turn toward my voice.

  "Snuggle Muffins?" The little hairs on the back of my neck rose and I glanced out the back door again. God, I was going to have a heart attack and die if I didn't find Noah soon. Screw the Crockpot method. Besides, if I did that, my whole house would smell like a weed factory. The last thing I needed was for Detective Torres to stop by tomorrow and smell pot in the air.

  I scrolled through Pinterest and eventually found a faster recipe for the stove, but it still took three hours. Didn't they know I was about to be murdered? Fuck it. I'd just do it for less time. I turned on the burner and grabbed a stick of butter from the fridge. Less time meant less potent. So to make up for the weak pot butter, I quadrupled the amount of weed I put into it. I wasn't just trying to give Noah a good trip. I wanted him to freaking go loony for a few minutes before passing out on the kitchen floor butt naked. I paused with my hand on the butter. Why had I gone straight to butt naked Noah? I tried to dismiss the thought as I got to work on my trap.

  After a few minutes the smell of weed was already filling the air. Damn it. It wasn't just Detective Torres' nose I was worried about. I didn't want Noah to know that I was drugging him either. If this plan was going to work, I had to have the element of surprise on my side. I tried to ignore the fact that it felt like someone was watching me as I hit the fan above the stove. If Noah was lurking in the hallway, none of this would matter. He'd know. I lit a few candles just in case luck was on my side and Noah didn't know I was about to drug him. Again. At least this time I wouldn't push him down the stairs. Slipped. He slipped down the stairs.

  I looked over at Snuggle Muffins as I went back to the stove. He was still staring into the empty hallway toward the front door. He was being more creepy than comforting. "Here, boy," I called. "Come hang out with Mommy." I cringed. I was not this old dog's mother. The thought was silly.

  His ears perked up, but he didn't move.

  "Snuggle Muffins, please stop staring down the hall."

  He didn't move.

  I abandoned my weed butter and picked up the chef's knife. "Noah?" I whispered as I made my way over to my dog. I peered into the empty hall and swallowed hard. "Noah?" I took a few steps toward the living room. Sometimes I thought the living room was creepier than the basement or attic. I barely ever went in it. For a room with the name "living" in it, you'd think it would be more inviting. It should be called the dying room instead.

  I peered around the corner but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The knife started to slip out of my hand, but I somehow caught it without cutting myself. How was I supposed to focus on baking when I could barely stop shaking?

  Crap. Baking! I ran back over to the pot butter. Luckily the butter hadn't burned. The tedious process of stirring it every few seconds didn't at all distract me from the fact that at any moment Noah could pop out of nowhere and stab me. I pictured the blood from my dream this morning and touched my stomach. It was easy to imagine the sticky redness bleeding through my sweater, oozing between my fingers. I removed my hand and went back to stirring. I h
ated blood. If only I could stop thinking about it.

  I tried to hum Baby It's Cold Outside to myself to calm down. But I could barely hear my humming over the siren outside. All I could think about was the fact that a siren wouldn't come if Noah killed me. No one would know for weeks because I was all alone. Completely and utterly alone.

  Stop. I tried to imagine Noah passing out after taking a bite of my brownies. That didn't comfort me either. I kept glancing over my shoulder, the spoon shaking in my hand.

  My eyes were starting to water. I wasn't sure if it was because I was freaking out and getting ready to burst into tears or if it was because of the weed drifting into the air...no. No, no, no. I stood back a little farther. Could I get high from breathing this in? That wouldn't give me an advantage. Especially if I stood here for any longer. Enough was enough. I turned off the burner and stared down at the concoction.

  Would it even work? I'd barely cooked it for thirty minutes. I bit the inside of my lip. Maybe I could still put a little of the weed into the brownies instead of straining it all out. That would fix it. A true chef knew how to make it work. And this was a make-it-work moment. I put a spoon into the butter and took a tiny little taste. The other part of being a good chef was taste testing. I'm pretty sure I made a face as the weed butter slid down my gullet. It was...not good. But then again, I wasn't a pot buff. I figured it would be fine mixed in with everything else.

  I grabbed the rest of the ingredients and got to work at the kitchen island. Now that my back wasn't turned away from the rest of the room, I breathed a little easier. But only the teensiest bit easier. I would have breathed a lot easier if my taser was still working. And if Snuggle Muffins wasn't staring at the basement door now.

  "What are you doing? Get away from there. Shoo."

  He didn't move.

  "Please, you're freaking me out." I started to stir the batter, wishing I could stir it with a knife instead of a spoon. "Snuggle Muffins, get away from there." I lifted the bowl into my arms, preheated the oven as I walked by it, and stopped next to Snuggle Muffins. The door to the basement was still open. If I locked it and Noah was down there, he'd be trapped. I stared down the dark steps as I stirred. And stirred. And stirred. No, I couldn't close the door even if he was down there. That would defeat the purpose of the weed brownies.

  I had to stick to the plan. I added even more of the cooked weed and stirred some more. Would that be enough? I put another spoonful in and then licked the back of the wooden spoon. Salmonella wasn't a huge concern for me when I was waiting to be knifed to death by Noah. I licked my lips. Not half bad. I gave it one more lick and one more stir. There. Done. It was the perfect batter consistency. The perfect chocolaty goodness to get Noah to come out of hiding.

  I poured the mixture into the greased pan, pushed it into the oven and then...waited. I heard another creak above my head and my eyes flew to the ceiling. Son of a bitch. It was tempting to go up there and look for him again. But it was more tempting to stay alive. So I just stood there in the kitchen, knife in hand, staring into the hall with Snuggle Muffins by my feet.

  "Noah?" I whispered into the emptiness.

  No response.

  This was ridiculous. I wasn't a prisoner in my own house. And Snuggle Muffins and I wanted to see Santa, if we hadn't already missed him driving by our house. I wouldn't let Noah ruin Snuggle Muffins’ first Christmas with me. I picked him up and we made our way to the front door. Noah didn't pop out of the living or dining rooms and knife us. I glanced at the staircase before putting my hand on the doorknob. "We're going to see Santa! You're welcome to join us!"

  Silence.

  Screw you too, Noah. I breathed my first even breath in what felt like hours when I closed the front door behind us. It was snowing harder now and our yard and the street was covered in white. All the white lights up and down the lane looked beautiful under the blanket of snow. But so did my colorful ones. I'd started a war out here and in my own home.

  What was I going to do if Noah didn't come out before I was ready for bed? What if he just lurked around our house for the rest of my life? That wasn't an option. Detective Torres was going to find the records I’d omitted. He'd know everything soon enough. I hugged Snuggle Muffins closer to my chest. I wished I'd gotten an attack dog and not my little creeper muffin.

  My neighbors started stepping outside too, getting ready for the big man to come.

  I quickly hid my knife in the flowerpot by the door so that I'd be able to wave to them and Santa without looking like a lunatic. "He's coming," I said and pointed to the fire truck turning down our street.

  Snuggle Muffins barked.

  Hopefully once the truck left the neighborhood Snuggle Muffins would stop staring off in the distance. Dogs liked trucks. I was pretty sure that was a thing. Maybe that was what was distracting him, not Noah's whereabouts.

  Kids raced onto the sidewalks in front of their houses to catch the candy Santa and the rest of the firemen threw. It was such a peaceful scene. The kids running around in the snow and jumping to catch the candy. But I couldn't make myself smile. Not when it was growing more and more likely that Noah was planning something more sinister than my drugged brownies. I might die tonight. He's going to try to kill me. It was the same conclusion I kept coming back to. There was no reason for him to stay and hide unless he was seeking revenge. Which was something I knew my fair share about. Revenge was what had driven me to kidnap him in the first place.

  I lifted Snuggle Muffins' paw and we waved together as the fire truck slowly drove by. Santa waved back and rubbed his plump tummy. The driver honked the horn and Snuggle Muffins squirmed in my arms. Yup, he definitely liked trucks. He'd probably be chasing it right now if I wasn't hugging him close.

  Sally walked by and waved. I swore she winked at me, but I couldn't be sure. Sally, Sally, Sally. Even though her discussion with Charlotte earlier hadn't exactly thrown me under the bus, I didn’t trust her. Mostly because it felt like she knew I was up to no good. Normally that wouldn't be a problem. But when you were up to no good and someone suspected you? Yeah, Sally was definitely a problem. I smiled and waved back.

  I watched the fire truck make its way to the end of the lane. Our street was one of the last ones in the neighborhood. The sirens would be far away soon enough. The snow danced around us as I waited for all the happy families to retreat back inside. They were probably sitting down to a warm meal, excitement buzzing in the air for the upcoming Christmas break.

  That was the dream. Two kids to fill our house. Us against the world. Noah had spoken those words to me in his vows. It was him and me now. There was no "us." I'd made damn sure of that.

  When the last family disappeared back inside, I pulled my knife out of the flowerpot. Not all dreams came true. I'd never have the family I dreamed of. As far as I was concerned, I no longer even had a husband. Noah had ruined us. He'd ruined my perfect white picket fence life. But I wasn't going to let him end it.

  He didn't remember me or our house. I knew every square foot of the space because I was the one on my hands and knees cleaning it every week. He couldn't outmaneuver me in there. I was still in control. And I was done being scared. It was time to have some fun with my lovely husband. Besides, it was the last time I was going to get to play house for a long time. I just hoped it was because I fled safely to Mexico and not because I was behind bars.

  Chapter 20

  Sunday

  "Noah!" I called as Snuggle Muffins and I made our way back inside. "You just missed Santa coming by!"

  I wasn't surprised by the lack of response. I placed Snuggle Muffins down and he followed me into the kitchen.

  "I'm making you brownies! Your favorite!"

  Silence.

  "They'll be done in ten minutes, so plan accordingly!" I popped open the oven to check on them. They were looking perfect. I'd always been great at winging it with recipes. Baking was a science and not an art and all that jazz? Psh. Call me a scientist then. I started humming again
, this time actually feeling it.

  I was going to be the opposite of the Grinch. I was going to bring the Christmas spirit back to this dead home. To please Detective Torres. To trick Noah. And maybe a little to go out in style.

  "Let's decorate for Christmas!" I yelled. "Come on out and help!"

  Noah had never been one to help decorate, so I was extra not surprised when he didn't respond. More fun for me, grumpy pants McGee.

  "Baby." I lifted up Snuggle Muffins. "It's." I twirled in a circle. "Cold." I shimmied my hips. "Outside."

  I was vaguely aware of the fact that I might be high from the weed fumes and the taste testing as I danced us over to the box Detective Torres had so graciously brought up from the basement. Honestly I wasn't even sure what I was doing drooling over shirtless Noah. Detective Torres was fine with a capital F. Seducing him would put me in a much better position for getting away with kidnapping and holding someone hostage.

  I laughed out loud. Getting in bed with a detective was seriously the last thing on my mind. That was almost the downfall of Adeline and Violet's otherwise perfect crimes. Falling in love was so not an option for me. Besides, even though I was trying to be the opposite of the Grinch tonight, I was pretty sure my heart was in fact two sizes too small. There was no use in lusting over Noah or Detective Torres. They were both out of the question. I'd already made my choice. A life of hiding was my future now. I was going to be wanted for...well, I wasn't exactly sure what I'd be wanted for in the end. If Noah kept being a little bitch then murder was still on the table.