by Meg Muldoon
I wondered if Daniel was happy. If maybe things here in Christmas River were starting to become a little mundane for him. That maybe he was restless in some ways, looking for something new to spark excitement in his life.
I knew it was an inevitable reality of life – to have pockets of boredom where you fell into patterns and went through the motions. Especially life in a small town where nothing that much ever happened. But I didn’t like the idea that Daniel might be bored with the way things were lately. That he might be—
“Hoooooooo…”
I froze. Any thoughts I’d been having evaporated completely as a strange, haunting noise sounded from somewhere out in the woods.
I held my breath and listened hard. The hair on the back of my neck stood straight up on end as I waited to hear more.
But only silence followed.
Had it just been the wind? Or had it been some sort of creature maybe? An owl? A coyote or wolf? For the most part, wolves could no longer be found in this part of the country. But every once and a while, biologists would track one that wandered into the area. Was that what made that strange, eerie noise?
I listened for a long, long time after that. But there was nothing but the familiar, if not discomforting, sounds of the trees groaning and creaking in the wind.
After a few minutes, I reached into the backseat, fishing out the flashlight. I quietly opened the car door and stepped outside into the brisk, biting air. Then I started walking toward the trailhead.
It had most likely been nothing.
But the way I saw it, there was no harm in checking.
Chapter 23
It had been a long, long time since I’d been out in the woods by myself at night.
I’d forgotten the way it felt. That strange sense of primal fear that rose up at the back of your throat when you realized you were alone in the dark, in an unfamiliar place. The feeling that things were watching you from somewhere out there. The feeling of panic at the thought of how much time was left between now and sunrise.
The same patch of woods – friendly and peaceful during the daytime – could turn into a haunted and scary place at night.
I walked slowly down the trail, shining the flashlight out ahead of me. Not knowing exactly what I was doing or where I was going, but feeling compelled to go on anyway.
The noise I’d heard had most likely been the wind. I knew that. But there had been something strange about the sound, too. Almost as if… as if there’d been some sort of pain in it. Like—
I stopped dead in my tracks as the sharp crackling sound of branches breaking echoed from somewhere deep within the woods.
I spun around suddenly, my heart in my throat, shining my flashlight in the direction of the noise.
My eyes frantically scanned the shadowy forest, looking for anything that could have made the branches crack like that.
But in the end, the light hit nothing but pine needles and bark.
I let out a short sigh of relief. There was no hungry, leering creature assigning me to its dinner menu out there. No menacing person, looking to do bad things. Nothing scary at all, in fact.
I rubbed my arms.
It wasn’t October just yet, but it was feeling a lot like Halloween up here in these woods tonight.
This most recent noise had probably just been a small animal walking through the forest. I knew from camping that the smallest of creatures could sound like elephants at night. Something about the darkness and the night air seemed to amplify noise. And when it was dark, those kinds of sounds had a way of cutting right through you and down to your heart, instilling a kind of fear that was hard to capture with words—
Something suddenly wrapped around my ankle and squeezed hard.
I tried to pull away, but the thing wouldn’t let go. It’s bony, icy grip held on to me like the thing’s very life depended on it.
I let out a horrified scream.
Then I stumbled, falling face-first onto the cold forest floor.
I came face-to-face with a pair of haggard, hungry bloodshot eyes.
Eyes that were screaming for help.
Chapter 24
I woke up in a cold sweat, my phone alarm blaring out an annoyingly cheerful tune.
My cheek was throbbing, and I had that groggy, ragged, knocked-out feeling you get when you haven’t gotten enough sleep. Like you’ve been run over a couple of times by an ATV sometime during the night.
I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to go in to the pie shop. I didn’t want to do anything but lay there in the soft folds of my bed and pretend that what had happened the night before in the woods had been nothing but a bad dream.
For a while, I almost believed that. But then, I reached up and felt my puffy cheek – the side that I’d fallen on. And I realized that it really was all real.
It had been like something out of a horror movie. I could almost still feel that icy hand gripping my ankle, pulling me down to the forest floor. I could still see those large, horrified, bloodshot eyes in my mind’s eye, staring out from the darkness at me. Then the cries… the garbled cries of pain that echoed through the quiet woods.
I shuddered, placing my hands across my forehead.
Angie Dulany looked like death when I’d found her half a mile down the Lava Ridge Trail.
After realizing that it was her, and not some horrifying ghoulish nightmare sprung from the depths of the forest, I had run as fast as my legs could take me back to the parking lot. I’d called dispatch using the car radio in Daniel’s truck. Then I placed a call to Daniel myself, telling him that I’d found Angie. He had instructed me to bring her water if she couldn’t be moved, and to wait with her until help came. I did as he said, waking up Deb and bringing her with me down the trail to where she was.
Angie was in a bad state, and if I had been the squeamish type, I might have had a really hard time sticking it out with her. Several streams of dried blood ran down the side of her face from a wound in her left temple. She couldn’t stand. She didn’t seem to be able to say anything when we asked her what happened. She just stared out vacantly at us and groaned with pain. I wasn’t even sure if she recognized either me or her sister-in-law.
For as long as I lived, I didn’t think I’d ever forget that empty, haunted look in her eyes.
When the paramedics finally arrived and we all got to the hospital, we waited for a long time before a doctor came out and told us that Angie had sustained significant contusions to her head and neck, in addition to various breaks throughout her body. Her vocal chords were damaged, and brain damage was also possible, though the doctors were trying to mitigate it by keeping her in a coma.
It was hard to believe that just a week earlier, Angie had come into the shop to get a few slices of pie for the trip. She’d been easy-going and carefree, then. Making fun of Wes, the way she did sometimes in that loving, fond kind of way. Talking about how she thought the treasure was all mumbo jumbo, but how she’d never tell her husband that.
Now she was lying in the hospital, fighting for her life. Maybe never to be the same Angie again.
I let out a long breath, looking up at the ceiling. The aspen leaves outside the window, yellow and crinkly, were shaking in a soft breeze and cast shadows across the walls.
I’d stayed at the hospital for several hours after that, waiting to hear more about Angie’s condition. But once I started nodding off, Daniel had gently awakened me and told me to go home and get some shut eye. And that he’d call me if there were any updates.
I’d finally agreed, heading home and dozing off somewhere around 6 in the morning.
I glanced at the alarm clock and let out a long groan.
I wanted to fall back asleep, find that place where I’d forgotten the hollow, empty look in Angie’s eyes.
I shuddered, thinking about what could have possibly gone wrong out there for it to end up like this. With Angie in a coma, and Wes somewhere still in the woods, his condition unknown.
Both of
their chances unknown, for that matter.
I forced myself to sit up in bed.
I didn’t want to go anywhere today.
But I couldn’t do that to Tiana and Tobias and Ian. Though the tourist season was starting to peter out, it hadn’t had any effect on the throngs of tourists and locals frequenting Cinnamon’s Pies yet. Tiana was already at her wits’ end with the wedding preparations. Giving her more work at the pie shop because I felt like sleeping another few hours didn’t seem right.
I sucked it up, swung my legs over the side of the bed, then got ready for work.
And I tried not to think about chances.
Chapter 25
I knew it wasn’t a good idea.
I dusted my hands off on my apron and stared at the coffee pot, considering whether or not to do it.
In the end, I gave in, pouring myself another extra-large cup of dark roast.
It was my fourth of the day, and I was heading into extreme-jittery bouncing-off-the-walls territory. But if I was going to make it through the rest of the afternoon, then I’d have to chance it. I took a sip, flipped on the small television in the corner of the kitchen, and checked back in with the local news station for the sixth time that day.
“Search & Rescue volunteer Wes Dulany was set to start a new job as an emergency medical technician with the Pohly County Fire District this week. He remains missing after his wife, Angela Bauer Dulany, was discovered badly injured near the Lava Ridge Trailhead late last night. She is currently at Christmas River’s St. Charles Hospital in critical condition. The Sheriff’s Office asks that if you have any information about where Wes Dulany could be, please call—”
I let out a long, troubled sigh, then flipped the television off.
I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it all. It was so surreal seeing Angie and Wes’s picture on the local news.
I thought about the way Wes tipped his cap at me when I arrived at the Search & Rescue volunteer party only a week and a half earlier. About that million-dollar smile of his. About how he greeted me with that trademark charisma.
And then I thought about that bad feeling that Deb said she had.
“Those poor kids,” Tiana said solemnly, dividing up a large bowlful of creamy Apple Custard Pie filling between a row of homemade cinnamon graham cracker crusts.
She let out a sigh of her own.
Tiana hadn’t exactly been on a first-name basis with Wes and Angie, but like everyone else who had attended the Search & Rescue party, she’d known of them. And she also knew Deb Dulany, who often came into the shop to buy pies as housewarming gifts for her clients.
“How’s the Sheriff holding up?” Tiana asked, shooting a glance in my direction.
I shrugged.
“Worried, like all of us,” I said. “But hopefully, Search & Rescue will have better luck today and they’ll find Wes.”
She nodded, placing the row of pie tins on a baking sheet and shoving the full pan in one of the ovens.
“Well, I’m praying for them and their families,” she said.
I looked up from the pie dough I’d been cutting into lattice strips.
Most people used that phrase, but rarely did they really mean it. But with Tiana, I knew that there was no lie in what she’d said – I’d have bet a hundred dollars that tonight when she said her prayers, Wes and Angie would have first billing. That was the kind of person Tiana was – honest and steadfast, she was one of the most dependable people I knew.
“That’s good of you,” I said with a small smile. “I’m sure they could use all the help they can get right now.”
She nodded, picking up several Caramel Apple Cider pies that had been cooling over by the open window.
We were smack dab in the middle of prime apple season. Caught up by the enthusiasm of it all, most of the pies I’d made this afternoon had the sweet round fruit as their main attraction.
I went over, grabbing the rest of the pies, and followed Tiana out into the dining room to add them to the display case.
The room was crowded, and Tobias and Ian were manning the front admirably. Taking orders, dishing up plates of pie, and making sure nobody in the place was without coffee.
“How’s it going out here, Tobias?” I asked, ducking down and placing the pies in the display case – making sure that their prettiest sides were facing outward.
“Coming up roses, miss,” he said, forgetting again how we’d agreed that he’d call me by Cin from now on. “The sun’s shining, blue skies are overhead, and I’m marrying the love of my life next month. I’d say things couldn’t possibly be better.”
He punched a few buttons on the cash register, ringing up a lady wearing a broad-brimmed hat.
I paused, looking at the pleased expression on Tobias’s face.
“What I meant was whether we need more pie out here,” I said, eyeing the long line. “But, uh, I think I like your answer much, much better.”
He grinned broadly.
“So do I,” he said, glancing at his soon-to-be wife.
I couldn’t help but notice that Tiana had turned the color of a Red Delicious apple at the compliment. She stared out into the dining room, as if she was unable to meet Tobias’s loving look out of sheer bashfulness.
“Need any more help out here?” I asked.
“I think the kid and me are managing fine,” he said, referring to Ian, who was working hard at the other end of the display case, dolling out slices of pie with startling efficiency. How he worked so quickly and still managed to make the plates look pretty and aesthetically pleasing was beyond me.
“But a few folks could probably stand to have a coffee refill, now that I think of it,” Tobias added.
“I’m on it,” I said.
I went around the case, grabbing a fresh pot of Christmas Coffee Shack brew as I went by. I went from crowded table to crowded table, filling up empty and half-full mugs, asking patrons how their pie and coffee was. The majority, if not all, looked satisfied as could be by the fruit, chocolate, and fresh flaky pastry swirling around in their mouths.
Sometimes, it was nice getting out from the kitchen and seeing just how happy my pie made people. One of the big reasons why I’d wanted to start a pie shop in the first place was so I could bring joy to other peoples’ lives in the best way that I knew how. It was only natural that actually getting to see that joy with my own eyes in turn brought me a sense of peace and happiness.
“And how’s everything today, sir—”
My words fell short as my eyes settled on the man sitting alone at the booth, a plate of half-eaten Devil’s Chocolate Cherry Pie in front of him.
“Oh…” I mumbled, recognizing the large, cow-like eyes, the bulging muscles, and the broken-heart tattoo on his wrist. “I, uh, I see you made it back”
He smiled.
The chocolate had settled into the ridges of his teeth unbecomingly.
“Of course I came back,” he said. “I said I would, didn’t I?”
I forced a smile, trying not to look too hard at his teeth.
“I take it you’re enjoying the pie?”
“That’s an understatement,” he said, glancing just past my shoulder toward the display case, then back at me. “I’m doing more than just enjoying here.”
“Good to hear,” I said.
“Say, I know that you’re the owner, but are you the one who makes the pies, too?”
“I’ve got some bakery assistants,” I said.
“Well, my compliments to you and your team, sweet stuff,” he said, craning his neck and looking behind me again. “Please pass them along.”
I wouldn’t let most people get away with calling me “sweet stuff” or “sweetheart” or “sweetie” or any other condescending nickname reserved only for women. But the man was a paying customer, and in the end, I decided to let it pass.
I was about to move along to the next table, but the man put his hand out, nearly touching me to keep me there. The motion jarred me slightly.
I paused, thinking about it.
“Give the Christmas River Inn a try,” I said. “That, or the Rudolph Motel on Wilson Avenue. From what I understand, those are both pretty reasonable.”
He nodded.
“Thank you, sugar.”
I bit my lip to keep from saying something about the nickname.
If he called me that again, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it.
“Are you here for business?” I asked.
“Partly,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and eyeing me. “But this is mostly a trip for uh, pleasure.”
I forced a stretched, phony smile. Then I walked past him, moving onto the next table as quickly as I could.
I didn’t know why exactly, but I was overcome with a strange feeling of uneasiness and dread.
I hoped the man wouldn’t be coming back to Cinnamon’s Pies anytime soon.
Chapter 26
I hated hospitals.
It was a stupid statement. Mostly, because just about everyone did hate hospitals. No one liked the antiseptic aroma, the sterile linoleum floors, the hushed, worried whispers, and the general feeling of anxiety that seemed to thrive in the very nooks and crannies of a hospital’s hallways.
And even though one of the last times I had been here had been for a happy occasion – the birth of Laila Mae Billings – it still didn’t erase other uglier memories. Like when Daniel had been laid up here after being trampled by a horse. Or this last February when I’d come here after badly dislocating my shoulder during the biggest storm to hit Christmas River in decades. Or years and years earlier, right after my mom had her fatal accident.