A Deep and Dark December

  “We’re…figuring things out,” he answered lamely.

  “When do you think we’ll have them figured out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She nodded at that. “Okay.”

  “Do you think it can be figured out? I mean, is it possible?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I kinda do. Don’t you?”

  Suddenly everything was set right. He smiled. “Yeah.”

  She smiled in return, tilting her head a little to the side. She was so damn pretty he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, reaching out to stroke her cheek with the pad of his thumb. So soft. She eased into the caress, her lashes lowering. He leaned in to kiss her. How could he have thought of ending things, ending this? He framed her face in his hands and deepened the kiss. She moved into him, gripping his wrists. He broke the kiss before things got out of hand. Again.

  “You’re very good at that,” she said.

  “At what?”

  “Making me forget.”

  “At least I’m good for something. Do you want to go back to your aunt?”

  She smoothed a hand over the wet spot on his shirt where she’d cried. “No, I want to go down with you to check on your dad.”

  “We can go down. See what his doctor says. But we probably won’t be able to see him.” No way in hell.

  He didn’t know what it would do to his pop to see him with Erin and he knew exactly what it would do to their fragile relationship if she found out his father had disowned him because of her. Family was everything to Erin and he knew she would rather break things off with him than get between Graham and his father.

  “Oh, okay.”

  They headed down to emergency and found out that his dad was going to be admitted overnight for observation. Erin decided to go back upstairs to check on her aunt, leaving Graham with a kiss and an invitation to stop by her house later. Graham watched her until the elevator doors closed and she disappeared from his view. He turned to go see his father before they took him up to his room, wondering how he was going to sort things out with his old man.

  Graham pulled back the curtain around his father’s hospital bed and cautiously stepped inside. Ham pinned him with the dark-eyed stare he’d come to dread as a child.

  “I’ve decided to give you another chance,” Ham said, motioning for Graham to sit down. “But you’d better listen to me. You’re going to shave your beard and get your act together. You’re going to stop seeing that December girl. And you’re going to start living up to your potential as a Doran and sheriff of this town.” He shifted in the bed, sitting up straighter. “I’ve held off the mayor and his cronies from recalling you as sheriff, but I don’t know for how much longer.”

  At first his father’s words had given him hope, but then he quickly dashed them on the rocks of stubbornness. Graham reclined in his seat, settling in for what he knew was going to be a long lecture. “Have you?”

  “I can arrange for you to make a speech. About how concerned you are, your plans for the town, that sort of thing. We can squash this.”

  “Can we?”

  Whatever drugs they were giving Ham had a rejuvenating effect. If it wasn’t for the weight loss and paleness Graham could have sworn his father had never been ill.

  “But the town’s going to want to see you’re serious. Some outward indication,” Ham said.

  “Like shaving my beard.”

  “You’re not in Los Angeles anymore. You’re back here where you belong. Dorans have been trusted to keep San Rey safe for generations and we’re going to keep on doing that. Your son—”

  “What if I have daughters? Or no children at all?”

  “Stop being flippant, Graham. This is serious.”

  “Pop, you’re not going to want to hear this, but you need to. I’ll make that speech. I might even shave, but the rest is none of your business. I get that you don’t like Erin although I don’t know why. I hope as you get to know her—”

  “Get to know her? Oh, I know her. I know her kind. Beauty is temptation. Descended from Eve, women tempt men into sin. You must not let your lust for her deter you from your duty—”

  “Her kind?”

  “You can do better.”

  “No, actually I can’t.”

  “She’s twisted you around so you can’t see clearly. I’ve been there, son. I know what it’s like to be tempted, to partake of forbidden fruit. To be drawn in. It’s enticing. Exciting. But you’ll see I’m right soon enough.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Eventually she’ll show her true colors. Your lust for her will fade and you’ll see her for what she is.”

  “Stop hinting at it. Say it plainly, Pop. What exactly is she?”

  “First Keith Collins and now you. He was a good man and if it weren’t for her, he’d still be alive. Look at what’s in front of you, son. Look at it.”

  “You can’t be serious. You think she had something to do with Keith’s death?”

  “She traded a maybe for a somebody.” He pointed at Graham. “You.”

  Graham stood. “I’m not going to listen to any more of this.”

  “Don’t go against me.” Ham leaned forward in the bed. “Or I’ll make sure your little hussy is exposed for what she is. Her and her family.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “I hear her aunt overdosed. A combination of pills and alcohol. She’s right here in this hospital—”

  “Not one more word about Erin or Cerie or anyone else I care about—”

  “I might look like a weak old man, but I have more power than you know. Jobs dry up, leases get revoked, people fall on hard times, can’t pay their bills.” Ham waved a hand. “Happens all the time.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “That’s the thing about living in and serving the same small town for generations, people think they owe you.”

  “Why? Just tell me why you dislike the Decembers so much.”

  Ham leveled his son with a look that knocked him back to the days when he lived in his father’s house and had to abide by his rules without question. Only those days were gone. And in the ensuing years Graham had learned to question everything, including himself. Especially himself. A lesson left over from the nightmare in L.A.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Ham said. “Do as you’re told.”

  If Graham had hoped to compromise with his old man, he knew now that option had never existed. Ham didn’t negotiate. He set the terms and everyone else abided by them. He stared at his father, saw himself in the set of his jaw and the color of his eyes, and did the only thing he could—he went against his father for the first time in his life.

  Erin arrived at her father’s house just after dark, more exhausted than she ever remembered being. She let herself into the small cabin tucked into the hills above San Rey where she’d been raised. Following the sound of the television, she did her best to scrub the worry from her expression. There’d been no change in her aunt all day. Erin had left Cerie’s bedside with little hope for her aunt’s recovery.

  She found her father in his recliner, staring blankly at the TV screen. The light from the television cast a sickly blue glow over his form, giving the scene a macabre feel. Kneeling next to the chair, she took her dad’s hand. He turned toward her, his eyes burning bright in the darkened room.

  “Hey, Daddy. How are you feeling?” No response. “Aunt Cerie is doing well.” She stumbled on the last word and Donald’s eyes widened a fraction. Or had she only imagined it? “Have you had dinner?”

  “I fed him.”

  Erin jolted at the sound of Mabel’s voice.

  “Sorry,” Mabel said. “I thought you knew I was here.”

  Erin squeezed her father’s hand and rose. “You stayed with him all day?”

  Mabel motioned for Erin to come back to the kitchen with her. Erin gave her father a sad glance and followed.

  “Have you had dinner?” Mabel asked.

  “No.”


  “Sit down. I’ll warm up a plate for you. How’s Cerie? I wished I could’ve come to the hospital to see her today.”

  Erin sat at the little dining table and filled Mabel in on Cerie’s condition, watching Mabel navigate the kitchen as though she cooked in it every day, going straight to what she wanted without having to search. Which spoke volumes about Mabel’s relationship with Donald. She couldn’t help the tiny seed of bitterness toward the woman. It should’ve been Erin’s mother sliding a plate of food in the microwave for her, not this placeholder in her father’s life.

  “He’s worse, isn’t he?” Erin asked about her dad, staring at the boomerang pattern in the Formica tabletop.

  “Yes.”

  “How bad?”

  Mabel hesitated, causing Erin to look up. Her expression said everything. Mabel had never been good at hedging. Donald had made a comment once about Mabel’s inability to keep her emotions from showing on her face. Something about the honesty of it and how he always knew where he stood with her. Erin thought the woman had never bothered to perfect her poker face so that people would ask her what was wrong and she could tell them the latest gossip with complete impunity. After all, they’d asked.

  “He couldn’t talk when he woke up,” Mabel finally said. “Hasn’t said a word all day. Just looks at me with his fevered eyes. I don’t know what to do for him.” She covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

  Erin sat there for a moment, uncertain. She’d never been close to Mabel. They’d been neither adversaries nor friends. Finally, she stood and went to Mabel. Stretching out a hand, she patted Mabel’s shoulder. She couldn’t help the slice of anger that stabbed at her. Mabel should’ve been consoling Erin. Not that she wanted the woman’s pity, but it would have been a nice gesture. A bridge-gapping effort that could’ve gone a long way. Instead Erin stood there, comforting the woman who was her aunt’s best friend and her father’s off and on lover in the kitchen her mother had decorated.

  “I don’t understand what’s happening,” Mabel cried. “To Cerie. To Donald. This whole town.”

  “Me either.”

  “I wanted to take him to the doctor, but he made me promise not to. What am I supposed to do for him?” Mabel said, dabbing her face with the apron she wore. The apron Erin had given her mother that last Mother’s Day. “I just want my Donald back.”

  “Me too.”

  “What could be causing this? It seems like that storm brought more than rain. It also brought trouble. For everyone.”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Has your ability been affected?” Mabel asked, looking up at Erin through her lashes.

  For a moment, time slowed and Erin imagined what it would be like to share her ability with Mabel, how freeing it would be. And she realized that maybe she didn’t want to keep her secret anymore. Telling Mabel would be one way to reveal all, but was that how she wanted to break her silence after all this time? No. It was better this way, better to keep pretending she was as normal as everyone else, regardless of how they accepted her. She guessed it was all about what she could live with and the known evil versus the unknown.

  “I don’t have any ability,” Erin said. “You know that.”

  “Are you sure? I always thought you’d grow into one. Donald told me how he came into his later, in his early twenties. I thought maybe… Well, I guess it’s a blessing you don’t, considering what’s happening to Donald and Cerie.”

  “I suppose so.”

  The microwave dinged, prodding Mabel into action, wiping at her tears and fussing over the hot plate.

  “Come and sit down.” Mabel set the plate on the table and looked back at Erin expectantly.

  Erin did as she was told, the aroma of beef stroganoff made her mouth water and she realized she’d hardly eaten all day. “Thank you, Mabel. It looks wonderful.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mabel smiled and Erin thought maybe she’d judged her too harshly. Mabel sat across the table from her.

  “I’ve never had a man kill himself over me,” Mabel slid in easily, ruthlessly. “What’s that like?”

  Erin’s fork clattered against the plate and her jaw dropped open, but Mabel went on as though nothing was amiss.

  “I heard there was a suicide note, professing his undying love for you. You should probably speak at his funeral. People would expect it. Although I wouldn’t wear black.” Mabel leaned forward and whispered, “You weren’t married, after all, just dating, right? But that’s not the same.” She sniffed back another tear, her gaze darting longingly to where Erin’s father sat in the other room. “I should know.”

  Erin scraped her chair back from the table and started to rise, revulsion gnawing at her insides.

  “Where are you going?” Mabel asked. “You’ve hardly touched your dinner. Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Please, sit back down.” She waved Erin back. “I won’t mention Keith again. You poor dear. Sit.”

  Erin eyed Mabel, then her plate. She was ravenous.

  “Please sit.”

  Erin dropped back into her seat and picked up her fork, her gaze frozen on Mabel as if she was a viper poised to strike at the least provocation. She began shoveling food into her mouth as Mabel switched gears, gossiping about Jessica and the Billings boy, as Mabel called him. By the time Erin scooped up her last bite, Mabel must have decided that her window of getting anything out of Erin was quickly closing.

  “How’s Sheriff Doran senior? I heard they took him to the hospital.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You know, I always thought Keith was wrong for you. Now, a man like the current Sheriff Doran—”

  “Thank you for dinner, Mabel,” Erin said, rising. “I’m beat. I’ll say bye to my dad on my way out.” She paused, thinking that Mabel wasn’t all bad, she just couldn’t help herself. “Thanks for taking care of Daddy. I really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, well, of course. You know how I feel about your father.”

  “I do.” And that was the only thing keeping Erin from wrapping her hands around Mabel’s neck most days. “But thanks just the same.”

  Erin went back to the living room. Her father stared into the flashing screen at some sitcom. She bent and kissed his forehead. “Night, Daddy.” He didn’t look up.

  Stepping out into the darkness, Erin breathed deeply, hugging her coat closed. The salty night air also carried the sweet smell of wood fires. The residents of San Rey would be huddled indoors, preparing for the coming workweek. A slip of paper under her car’s windshield wiper caught her attention. She pulled it out and slid into the driver’s seat, then immediately jumped back out of the car with a shriek. A large crow, stiff with death, lay on her passenger seat.

  Her heart banged against her ribcage as she slowly looked around. The street was deserted. There were few houses in this area of San Rey, mostly cabins built around the time the town was founded. Although the Decembers had been one of the first families to settle here, they’d never really been welcomed. Erin opened the note.

  We’re watching.

  She scanned the street again. No movement. No maniacal face peeking out from behind a tree. No torch-wielding mob. Stuffing the note into her pocket, she took a deep breath and tried to shake off the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She pressed a hand to her forehead and tried to think what to do. Her lip trembled and she bit down on it.

  She would not cry.

  She climbed out of the car, marched around the side of the cabin to the shed in the back, and grabbed a shovel. Doing her best to not look too closely at the crow, she disposed of it. Someone was watching, she was sure of it now. Suppressing a shiver, she climbed back into her car and drove down the hill into town faster than she normally would. It was late enough that most of the businesses were closed. She passed Lucky’s Bag N Save and saw that they flew their flag half-mast in Keith’s honor. Several other homes and businesses did the same.

  This sleepy little coast
al town had been her home all her life. Now each quaint shop, every charming building seemed a charade. Which of the good citizens of San Rey had sent her that message? Who had let loose an avalanche of death and destruction that pitted resident against resident? What would San Rey become now that a serial killer existed among them? Because that’s what he was. Erin was sure of it.

  She pulled up to her house and parked. It was as she’d left it. She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe another message. Maybe Graham waiting for her on the porch as he’d been waiting for her when she’d come out of her aunt’s hospital room. Thinking of him conjured up memories of their night together. Remembering some of her favorite moments, she climbed her front steps and let herself in. She flipped on the lights and set her things down.

  The pain struck like a hammer to a bell, reverberating in every cell in her body. At first she thought she really had been hit as she staggered into her living room, hands pressed against her temples. White-hot light filled her sight. She tripped into it, falling head first into the vision as if she were being held down in a drowning pool. Giving it everything she had, she pushed against it, trying to hold onto this world with spider web hands. The harder she struggled to break free, the heavier the weight became until she succumbed completely, slipping from one reality into another.

  She sat at a table in a coffee shop. Across from her, Graham drummed his fingers, striking the tabletop like piano keys. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair short. Threads of gray were just beginning at his temples. Beneath the table, his leg pumped as his gaze held hers. No. He looked through her. She turned to see what he stared at so intently.

  The door opened and she saw herself walk through it. Graham shot to his feet and waved her over. Realizing she sat in the only other seat at the table, Erin stood just as her future self sat. She shivered at the imagined contact and backed away from the scene. Pressing her eyes closed, she redoubled her efforts to break free of the vision. More pain. She stumbled back, passing through a table where another couple sat, and caught herself before she slipped through the wall and out into the street.