The Christmas Stranger

by Beth Cornelison

  The idiot! He’d already skidded once on the slick road. Why didn’t he back off? Slow down?

  “Holly!” She heard panic in Matt’s voice.

  “I—I’m okay. Someone bumped me from behind.”

  Grappling to calm herself, Holly cautiously eased off the gas. Bad enough that the dark, twisty road was icing without adding a careless driver to the mix.

  With a roar of his engine, the driver behind her gunned his engine and rammed her again.

  Intentionally.

  Holly gasped. Fought the wheel to keep the truck from spinning off the road. Down the embankment.

  “He hit me again!” she cried loud enough for Matt to hear. “On purpose!”

  “What?” Matt’s voice sounded distant. The mountains were interfering with her connection.

  Squeezing the steering wheel, she divided her attention between the bright headlights bearing down on her and the treacherous curves ahead. “The car behind me is ramming me!”

  As soon as the words left her mouth, another jarring hit knocked her truck forward. Sliding. Weaving. “Matt!”

  Fear rang in Holly’s voice.

  Matt gripped the phone harder, as if he could reach her, help her by holding the receiver tighter. “Holly? Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

  Static buzzed in his ear, then silence. He’d lost her.

  He couldn’t be sure what was happening to Holly, but he knew something was wrong. She’d hit something. Or something had hit her.

  After her scream, he’d had trouble understanding her. But “hit me” had been clear enough. And “Robert killed Ryan.”

  Robert.

  Icy dread skittered through Matt.

  Holly was in trouble. He had to get to her. Somehow.

  But how? He had no car, no way to—

  He jerked his gaze to the brightly lit Christmas tree across the room. The one he’d cut down in the woods with Holly.

  And brought back to the farmhouse, towed behind…her four-wheeler.

  His heart in his throat, Matt ran to the kitchen and snatched the ATV keys from the peg by the back door.

  He could only pray he wasn’t too late.

  Holly battled the skid until her tires found purchase again. Fear strangled her. Panic thrashed in her chest.

  Headlights behind her approached again. Shuddering, she stepped on the gas pedal. She couldn’t let this crazy run her off the road.

  In her peripheral vision, the night-darkened trees and slopes of the mountain terrain flew past with frightening speed. Just as blood rushed past her ears in a deafening whoosh.

  Wham!

  Holly whimpered as her truck rocked again. The maniac behind her was determined to kill her. She nudged her speed higher, fear climbing her throat as she hurtled around one blind turn after another. Straddling the center line.

  Her tires slipped in the packed snow and ice, and her nerves jumped.

  If someone came around a curve from the other direction…

  She raised a shaking hand to wipe tears from her eyes. She didn’t want to crash. Didn’t want to die.

  Didn’t want anyone else hurt because of her.

  She couldn’t keep up these reckless speeds. She couldn’t outrun the homicidal driver behind her. Robert…

  Somehow she knew that was who was ramming her truck, trying to kill her, even as her brain recoiled at the notion.

  Maybe she could talk to him, calm him down….

  Wham!

  Her Tacoma spun sideways. She yanked the wheel, correcting. Too late. Spinning helplessly, she slid toward the edge of the road. Toward the sheer drop down the side of the mountain.

  Matt raced through the frigid night, icy wind lashing him, stinging his eyes as he pushed the all-terrain vehicle to go faster. Faster.

  Even with the small headlamp on the ATV, he could barely see the road.

  Holly had said she was on her way home. She had to be somewhere along the mountain highway between the farmhouse and Morgan Hollow. Between the winter weather and the holiday evening, traffic on the mountain highway was almost nonexistent.

  A full moon cast threads of pale light through the evergreens and naked hardwoods that lined the road.

  His hands, his face were numb from the wind buffeting his exposed skin. His heart was numb with fear that he could lose another woman he loved.

  Robert…said he had to stop me—

  A shiver that had nothing to do with the winter night shook him to his core. Matt had no doubt Robert was after Holly.

  Robert—who’d killed Ryan.

  Matt twisted the throttle, pushed the ATV to go faster. He had to find Holly before Robert had a chance to kill her, too.

  With a jarring thump, Holly’s truck stopped. The bang of her deploying air bag reverberated through the silent night. Coughing, choking on the dust and fumes from the air bag, she stared through the front window. Into the darkness beyond her front bumper.

  White. Snow. She’d struck a snowbank. One of the few places along the highway where the mountain sloped up on this side of the road.

  Trembling from head to toe, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She had to have an angel watching out for her. Ryan.

  When she sucked in a breath, trying to steady her jangling nerves, she gagged on the acrid powder still drifting in the air.

  Outside, a car door slammed. She jerked her gaze to her rearview mirror, squinting against the glare of headlights behind her. Backlit by the lights, the dark silhouette of a man strode toward her.

  Robert.

  A fresh shot of adrenaline streaked through her. Scrambling for her door handle and the latch of her seat belt at the same time, Holly freed herself from the front seat and stumbled from her truck. Her legs quaked so hard she could barely stand.

  “Robert!” she shouted, her voice surprisingly strong.

  He stopped. Swayed drunkenly. His body blocked one headlamp, allowing her to make out the dark lines of his face, the grim set of his mouth.

  Anger and fear tangled in her gut.

  “Why are you doing this? You said Ryan’s death was an accident. Surely if you explain that to the authorities, you’ll get leniency.”

  He barked a skeptical laugh. “’S too late f’r that.”

  Robert raised his arm, and in the glare of his car’s headlights, she saw the glint of dark metal. His service revolver. Aimed at her.

  “Robert, no!” She staggered back, collided with the open door of her truck.

  A deafening blast and the shattering of glass ricocheted through the night.

  Holly yelped. Ducked. Broken glass from her truck window rained down on her.

  “You should have listened to me, Holly! You should have left well enough alone!”

  She heard the crunch of snow under Robert’s feet. He was closing in.

  Holly glanced into her truck. Inside, she’d be a sitting duck.

  “If you hadn’t started diggin’ into Ryan’s case, no one would’ve ever had t’ know what happened at th’ church. I’d covered m’ tracks. Parker had nothin’.”

  Holly’s heart scampered like a trapped rabbit. In a crouch, she scurried around her open truck door, using it as a shield.

  “What did happen, Robert?” she called. Maybe his drunkenness would loosen his tongue and buy her time. Maybe she still had a chance to reason with him. Maybe all he needed was a chance to soothe his conscience, confess his crime.

  A shadow fell over her. Her heart fisting, she glanced up. Robert loomed over her, swaying. His gun now dangled in his hand at his side. His expression was tortured, twisted in grief, guilt and a rage.

  Toppling back onto her bottom, hands behind her, Holly sat motionless on the frozen earth. She held her breath, waiting.

  “I met him, like he asked, to salv’ge that damn stain’d glass. He wanted to surprise you with it.” Robert paused and braced a hand on the Tacoma. “I was late, ’n…he confronted me. About my drinkin’. Said he was worried about Jana and how it’d interfe
re with me doin’ my job.” He scoffed. “He threatened me. Said he’d go to the chief of p’lice ’bout me if I didn’t quit drinkin’, get help.” He shook his head and shifted his feet, clearly agitated.

  When he waved the gun, Holly tensed.

  “He had the nerve to threaten me!” Robert’s tone reflected his growing fury. His breathing sawed unevenly, clouding in icy puffs. “We argued. I shoved him. An’ he threw a fist.”

  Holly bit her bottom lip, muffling the whimper of grief that swamped her. Finally, she was learning the truth.

  “I grabbed a scrap of wood from th’ floor. Swung it. Ryan fell and…didn’t get up.” Robert’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t mean to kill ’im. It was an acc’dent. But…I panicked.” Robert sighed, scuffed his foot on the icy ground. “I took his watch and shoes, made it look like a mugging. I—”

  When he stopped, Holly glanced up in time to see him wipe his face.

  Another car passed them on the highway, swinging wide to avoid them, but didn’t stop.

  Holly’s heart sank. “Robert, you…can still make this right. P-put the gun away.”

  He shook his head. “No. I only told you because…I figured you had a right to know the truth. I’ve seen how hard the unanswered questions have been on you.”

  She nodded, praying she could appease him, assuage his guilt. “Thank you…for telling me.”

  He cocked his head, his expression reflecting an eerie calm. “But…now that you know…1—I can’t let you go. Can’t let you turn me in. D’ you know what would happen to me, a cop, in prison?”

  A prickle of alarm bit her spine. “Robert?”

  He raised the gun again. And aimed.

  “You don’t want to hurt me. I know you don’t. You swore an oath to protect and serve—”

  A flash from the muzzle lit his face for an instant. Distorting his features. Making his dark eyes glow with evil intent.

  She jerked, her ears ringing, and felt the heat from the bullet as it whizzed past her cheek. Frantic to escape, Holly crab-crawled backward. The ice and gravel at the side of the highway scraped her hands. He fired again. A stinging punch hit her arm, knocking her down. Crying out in pain, she grabbed her arm. Stunned. Terrified.

  Robert would kill her if she didn’t get out of there.

  Gravel danced next to her as Robert squeezed off another shot.

  Shoving to her feet, Holly lowered her head—and ran.

  Chapter 17

  Matt skidded to a stop beside Holly’s abandoned truck. Behind it, Robert’s car sat empty, the engine still idling. He searched in the dim moonlight for some clue where they could be. The ground below the driver-side door of the Tacoma was littered with broken glass.

  And a bullet casing.

  Fear kicked Matt’s pulse up another notch. He climbed hurriedly to Holly’s front seat and opened the glove box. He raked the contents onto the floor until he found what he’d hoped he would. A flashlight. Her cell phone lay on the floor, and he checked the screen. No reception. Damn.

  Shining the flashlight beam on the snow, he found tracks that led up the mountain slope. He jogged through the calf-deep snow, following the deep footprints. Twenty yards up the incline, he spotted something dark in the snow. He staggered to a stop and dropped to his knees for a better look.

  His heart lurched.

  The spot was blood.

  Holly clutched her arm, trying to ignore the pain that radiated from her bullet wound with every pounding step. The icy air, the thick snow hampered her progress. She struggled for every frozen breath she drew.

  Still, she clambered forward, panting, slipping, clawing her way uphill. When the ground leveled, she wove through the trees, lifting her good arm to block the low hanging branches that slapped at her.

  “Holly!”

  Robert was close, gaining on her despite his drunkenness. When the ground began sloping down, her feet skidded on the slippery snow. Arms windmilling, she slid several feet down the hill before losing her balance and landing on her bottom. Her breath rushed from her lungs in an “oof.”

  “Holly, stop!” Robert’s voice came from just above her, at the top of the hill.

  He fired another shot. Bark splintered from a tree near her.

  Tears burned her eyes. I need your help again, Ryan.

  But when she closed her eyes, conjuring an image to give her courage and strength, she saw Matt’s face, his warm smile. She didn’t want to die tonight. She wanted to spend her life with Matt, wanted to help him regain custody of his children, wanted to have children of their own.

  Her hurt and resentment for his lie by omission had blinded her to the simple truth. She wanted a future with the man she loved.

  She had to survive this night, Robert’s rampage—for Matt.

  Gulping a shallow breath, Holly clambered to her feet. She scrambled down the hill, dodging trees and praying.

  The crack of gunfire echoed through the woods, and Matt froze. He swung his flashlight in the direction of the noise and squinted into the darkness. “Holly!”

  Following the double set of tracks through the woods, he jogged through the snow, wishing the snowy terrain, the weather and visibility allowed him to move faster. Every second counted. Years ago, if he’d gotten home just minutes earlier, he’d have been in time to save Jill. He couldn’t bear the thought of being too late to help Holly.

  Deeper in the trees, a dark crumpled object appeared in the beam of the flashlight, and he rushed to identify it.

  Holly’s scarf. Blood stained the fringe.

  His pulse spiking, he picked up the neck wrap and jammed it in his jacket pocket. “Holly!”

  The footprints led away from where she’d lost the scarf, down a hill, and he set off again. Beyond the illumination of the flashlight, he saw nothing but dark, empty woods.

  Holly didn’t see the sharp drop in the landscape until too late. She tumbled down the embankment, landing hard on the snow-crusted outcropping some ten to twelve feet below. Winded, she sat up slowly and eyed the edge of the icy rock shelf. Mere feet from where she’d landed, the mountain plunged steeply again. While grateful she hadn’t kept sliding and fallen to her death down the sheer escarpment, a quick glance around told her the ledge that had saved her life now trapped her.

  The only way off it was back up the embankment she’d fallen down. Climbing the steep wall of icy rock and frozen earth would be tricky at best. Especially with her injured arm. A slippery foothold or crumbled handhold could be disastrous. But what choice did she have?

  “Holly!” Robert’s voice thundered just above her at the top of the embankment.

  Her heart jolted, and she pressed as far back out of his line of sight as possible. Then, with a crack of branches and the whoosh of cascading snow, Robert crashed down the drop-off and onto the outcropping with her.

  He staggered to his feet, shaking the snow from his arms—and stumbling dangerously close to the edge.

  “Robert, look out!” Holly grabbed the sleeve of his coat and hauled him back.

  He snapped his head around and shook free of her hold. “So there…you are,” he said, breathless from his pursuit. His arm wavered as he raised the gun again. “No more running.”

  Stiff from the cold and shock, Holly stumbled back, conscious of how little room she had, how few options to save herself. “Robert, be reasonable. You don’t want to kill me. I know you don’t. There has to be another way to end this!”

  “You think I didn’t think about that?” Robert shook his head. “When your friend Randall showed up, I thought I’d found the perfect solution. He had all the makin’ of a scapegoat.”

  A chill slithered through Holly, knowing how she’d bought into Robert’s ploy to frame Matt.

  “I made sure all the evidence from the fire pointed to him, planted doubts in your head,” he boasted. “It was working, too. You believed me.”

  Guilt sliced Holly to the core. She’d let her hurt feelings a
nd wounded pride blind her to the truth Matt had professed from the beginning. She’d let her doubts drive a wedge between her and Matt.

  Now she might never have the chance to apologize to him, to tell him she believed him, that she loved him.

  “Robert, if you’ll just put the gun down, we can work this out. If you turn yourself in, I’m sure the DA’s office will take that into—”

  “Turn myself in?” he scoffed. “I told you. I’m not going to prison! I can’t! Sorry, Holly. But there’s only one way this can end.” He steadied the revolver with his other hand and took aim.

  Matt heard voices.

  Robert.

  Holly. Hearing her, knowing she was alive brought a wave of relief crashing over him.

  He paused to listen, then moved forward slowly, quietly, following the sounds. As he approached the place where the voices seemed to originate, he flicked off the flashlight and tucked it in the waist of his jeans at the small of his back. Creeping forward, he found Robert and Holly on a narrow ledge below a steep drop of a dozen or so feet. Moonlight peeked through thin clouds, casting the scene in a surreal glow.

  Robert had Holly cornered, backed to the end of the ledge. At the business end of his service weapon.

  Ice streaked through Matt’s blood. He watched in horror as Robert leveled and steadied the gun.

  Matt’s time had run out. He raced to the embankment. Jumped.

  He landed on Robert’s back, and the momentum of his fall knocked Robert off his feet. Grappling with Robert in the snow, he fought to immobilize Robert’s arms and legs. Pin him to the frozen ground.

  But Robert fought back with skill and strength and determination. He wrestled an arm free and lobbed a punch to Matt’s jaw that stunned him long enough for Robert to twist free and clamber to his feet.

  For a few precious seconds, Holly stared in disbelief as the two men writhed in the snow, battling for the upper hand.

  Matt. As if conjured by her prayers, the deepest desire of her heart, he was there. But her relief quickly turned to a stark fear as the men rolled near the edge of the cliff.