The barn door was open. Bits of hay was scattered on the ground from the barn to the house. Someone had been in there recently. I trembled. If something terrible had happened to Eric here, the police would’ve found him. This would be the first place they’d have looked for him to notify him about Jenna.
“Eric? Are you in there?”
No answer. I walked over and peered inside. No one. The float was dismantled. The tarp was shoved into a corner, wood and metal rods were tossed around the area. The large naughty list was gone. Did the police take it as evidence? Slips of paper were torn up and scattered over the area. I stepped further into the barn. Something seemed off about the scene. The police would’ve been careful not to destroy anything. Why not take the whole float instead of just the sign? Had someone else come and taken it?
The stench of body odor and alcohol wafted from behind me. As I turned, a metallic click caused my blood to run cold.
Eric glared at me with bloodshot eyes. Dirt was smeared on his face and clothes. Sweat coated his face. It didn’t just look like he slept in the outfit but had fought a demon in them. His body was ram-rod straight. He was sober. I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“For some reason you just can’t stop snooping around.” Eric pointed a gun at me. “Let’s go.”
“I was looking for you. I wanted to ask you a question. I’m thinking now isn’t a good time.” I inched away from him. I should’ve told the mayor or Norman where I was going. Or better yet, not come. This was a really stupid idea.
“Let’s go talk.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me onto the porch. My winter coat stopped his tight grip from bruising me. The railing and old steps rattled as Eric stomped up, pulling me up to the rickety porch. “Now.”
I tripped over the top step. It was time to fight. Ducking, I swirled and hooked my ankle around his, hoping to bring him down without hurting myself. For my valiant effort, I found myself pressed into a column with the gun against my temple. His hand shook. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or detoxing causing Eric’s reaction. Either way, it could result in me getting shot.
“Here’s the thing, Merry. We’re going to talk. How nasty this gets depends upon you. You can willingly go into my house or I’ll have to get someone to persuade you.” Eric hauled me away from the porch column and shoved me into the front door.
I shot out my arms, stopping my face from connecting with the door.
“And I’d rather not get Cassie involved. Do you?” Eric asked.
A sob escaped me. Shaking my head, tears cascaded down my face. I was so stupid. I put myself and Cassie in danger.
“Open it. It’s unlocked. You probably already know that. Bet you’ve been inside snooping around.”
I shook my head. “No. I was only in the barn. Nobody had seen you, so I thought maybe something happened to you.”
“Like you care. How often did you stop by when Jenna was alive?”
“Once.”
“Right, once.” He spun me around. His hands continued to shake and sweat coated his face. The man was not doing good. “The day before Jenna was killed. Why the sudden interest now in my well-being? Or is it to clean up after yourself. Did you leave something you don’t want the police to find?” The muzzle of the gun was firmly pressed into the base of my spine. “Get in the house.”
I obeyed. There was a chance I could get away and reach Cassie before him—if the man didn’t shoot me during an escape attempt. The way to get out of this alive, and keep Cassie safe, was to talk to Eric. Reason with him.
I opened the door and a cold blast of air hit me. Either Eric forgot to pay the electric bill, or he was the Snow Miser. Eric shoved me inside and slammed the door shut. This was the first time I ever stepped foot in their house, and either Jenna and Eric were minimalists, or they planned on moving soon. The living room was almost bare. Two chairs: a ratty recliner and an old rocking chair with an end table beside it. Crushed beers littered the floor around the rocking chair. No coffee table. No wall décor. Not even a Christmas tree. In the corner was a stack of books. A mix of fiction, non-fiction, and cookbooks. The walls were beige. No photographs. No art. Nothing.
I was surprised by the color choice, considering Jenna was a flashy woman. She dressed—or had dressed—to the nines and had an expensive car. Had the couple been redecorating or were they fleeing? There weren’t any boxes or packing supplies. Maybe they had packing materials in another room in the house. I doubt Eric was going to give me a tour so I could find out.
“Sit down.” He waved the gun toward the chairs.
A bottle of vodka was on the counter. An idea popped into my head. Could I get the man drunk enough, I’d be able to escape? “Can I get some water?”
“Get me one too.” With the back of his arm, Eric swiped sweat from his forehead. “Remember, no trying to run out or I’ll have to stop by and visit your stepdaughter at work.”
I fisted my hands. I didn’t like that he knew where Cassie worked. I didn’t ever recall seeing Eric in the bookstore, but it wasn’t like I was on the lookout for the man. There had been no reason for him to be on my radar. Sneaking a peek at Eric, I made my way into the kitchen. It was always a good idea to know where a person who wanted to shoot you was at, especially when you’re about to try and get them drunk instead of just hydrated.
Like the living room, the kitchen was bare, only the bare minimum on the counters, a toaster and a coffee maker. No packing materials. Carefully, I opened the refrigerator. There was no food inside. I was leaning toward the Wilcox’s had planned on sneaking out of town soon—with a nice sum of Season’s Greetings money.
“Plastic glasses are in the cabinet by the refrigerator. Instead of water, get me something stronger.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I forced myself to ask. Didn’t want to be too obedient and clue him in that I was up to something. Hopefully, drinking a partial bottle of booze would knock him out, if not I might just have to hit the bottle against his head.
“I’m so sick of nagging women.” He swiped his arm across his brow. “Get me a drink.”
Since he insisted. I filled a cup half way with water and the other one with Vodka. I grabbed the bottle and brought it with me. I placed the bottle and Eric’s beverage on a side table near the rocker, opting to take the recliner myself. It was closer to the door and I hoped the swaying motion of the rocker would put Eric to sleep.
“Why were you in the barn?” Eric sat on the edge of the rocker. He downed half the glass of vodka, took a breath then finished it.
I eased myself onto the recliner, also choosing to sit on the edge rather than get comfy. “I wanted to talk to you. The mayor said that Jenna loaned Samuel some money from the town’s treasury. The only other people who might know about this transaction are the spouses. And it could possibly be related to Jenna’s death.” Okay, it was a fib big enough to put me on Santa’s naughty list, but I needed Eric to believe we were in this together. Bond with him by being a possible suspect because everyone knew the spouse was automatically added to the list. “Then there’s the pastor’s wife who’s trying to find a way to blame me for Jenna’s death.”
He snorted and poured another generous serving of vodka into his glass. “Why would she do that?”
“My guess is she’s trying to steer the blame away from her husband. The pastor had told me he visited you and Jenna on Friday.” Rather, he visited with Eric as Jenna never came to the door.
Eric sipped at his drink. “Ya. That’s right. The pastor was here. Saw Jenna’s car. A couple minutes past the time he was supposed to be home and she’d called, wanting to know his whereabouts. His wife keeps him on a tight schedule. Surprised she didn’t put a GPS tracker on him.”
“I didn’t know Sarah was the controlling type. How long were you and Benjamin friends?”
“Can’t say that we were.”
�
�How do you know so much about their relationship?’
“Can’t say.” Eric flushed and chugged down the drink.
“At least the police believe us that the pastor was here. Sarah is going to tell him he wasn’t.”
“I don’t know if they’ll believe me. I haven’t spoken to the police yet.” Eric poured another drink.
A chill raced through my body. Eric hadn’t reacted when I mentioned Jenna’s death. He knew even though he hadn’t been notified. How? From Facebook or—I stopped that train of thought. I couldn’t think about that right now. I had to stay calm and collected. Think, Merry, think.
“What kind of host am I? Let me fill you up.” He dumped some vodka into my water.
At least I had been upgraded from hostage to guest. Hopefully, I’d be able to sneak out of here soon. I pretended to sip the drink, letting the liquid touch my lips.
“The pastor. Never thought of him.” Eric closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the rocking chair. He placed the gun on the table beside him. “Makes sense. He tried to sweet talk Jenna and she didn’t fall for his perfect pastor routine.”
“What was he trying to sweet talk her into doing? I didn’t know he was friends with Jenna.”
Maybe Pastor Heath was the one who borrowed the money from the town’s coffers and once Samuel died decided my ex-husband was the perfect scapegoat. What better way to know what was going on in the mayor’s office than having your wife work there. I thought it was odd Sarah would take on that part-time job during the Christmas season. It was the busiest time for the church.
Eric snorted, eyes remained close. “He was friendly to everyone he needed something from. He’ll become your best friend soon, considering your wealth.”
“My what?” I leaned forward. The glass slipped from my hand and pinged off the floor. The water and vodka soaked into the carpet.
“Your winnings. You had to know everyone would find out.” Dangling his arm down, Eric snagged the bottle of vodka and instead of using a glass, chugged straight from it. He swiped his arm across his mouth and grinned at me. “And some people will want a portion of it. Maybe even feel they’re owed it.”
Was that what this was about? Eric needed money to escape from Season’s Greetings. You’d think he’d have enough with the money stolen from the town. Well, he was out of luck. One I didn’t physically have the ticket on me, and two, no bank was going to hand over twelve million dollars.
Eric continued to grin at me. I stayed still, trying not to let him know it unnerved me. His eyelids started to droop. I continued to look back at him. His lids fluttered closed, and body slumped to the side. His arms relaxed and dangled by the sides of the chair.
The bottle clattered to the ground. A strangled snore came from Eric. I sat still, barely even breathing, making sure Eric was soundly asleep. A few more snores erupted from him. Yep. Out.
Still, I carefully rose to my feet, leaning forward and taking hold of the gun. Paper crinkled in my hand. I tiptoed backwards, keeping my eyes on Eric and kept a tight hold on the gun and papers. I held an arm out behind me, searching for the door. Good thing there wasn’t any décor in the living room. Nothing to trip over and wake the slumbering beast.
The door creaked open. I held my breath. Eric was motionless. I ran down the porch steps, yanking my keys from the pocket.
Almost to my car. I threw a panicked look over my shoulder. No Eric. I pulled opened the car door and climbed inside, stashing the gun in the glove compartment. The papers fell to the floor. It was almost over. Hurry. Get somewhere safe and call the police. I had no idea how long Eric would be out or if he’d follow through on his threat of hurting Cassie. My gaze rested on the paper. A bank slip. Other bank receipts flashed in my mind. Four deposit slips for twenty-five thousand dollars. Each one a different bank. Two located in Season’s Greetings. The other two in neighboring towns. All from last week. I highly doubt Jenna and Eric earned one-hundred thousand in cash from their business ventures. Jenna also had Nancy depositing money for her on Friday.
Was it so the tellers didn’t always see her? Make it seem like real business expenses because she had someone else depositing money?
Jamming the gear shift into drive, I floored it, turning the wheel toward the barn and driving through the yard, around the building. I wasn’t the best at backing up and wanted out of there pronto. I glanced in the rearview mirror. Eric wasn’t on the porch. I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or terrified. There was a back door. Going out the front wasn’t the only way.
The pastor’s visit with Jenna. The lottery ticket I wasn’t so sure I should claim as my own. Jenna being best friends with Nancy—the town’s biggest gossip of others’ secrets, real or fake. If I added up all the bank slips, it was less money than what was stolen from Season’s Greetings, but the Wilcoxes wouldn’t earn six figures from their legal business ventures in a week, especially in cash. Though, a side hustle of blackmail would generate quite a bit of cash. Were the names on Jenna’s naughty list the people she’d been blackmailing?
I wasn’t sure how long Eric would remain unconscious, and once he came to, he wouldn’t be happy. I had to get to Cassie and warn her. Protect her.
What had I been thinking going to see Eric? Saving myself. That was what I had focused on and trying to make sure I wasn’t on another suspect list, I put Cassie in danger. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. I had to find a safe spot to pull over and call the police.
My foot pressed the pedal harder. The SUV picked up speed. The next turn almost sent me skidding into a ditch. A truck rumbled out from a side road. I jerked the wheel, avoiding the other driver with inches to spare. The back tires slid and skidded on the rough surface of the shoulder. Rocks pinged against the vehicle. A low hanging tree branch smacked the windshield.
I winced and ducked, hoping the windshield didn’t crack. I maneuvered the SUV back onto the road and slowed. I’d do no one any good by injuring or killing myself. Expect for Sarah Heath. She wasn’t overly fond of me right now.
On second thought, I’d head to One More Page and call the police once I got there. This way, I’d be able to protect Cassie from my very stupid mistake.
Fourteen
I whipped into a vacant spot in front of One More Page and dug out my cell phone. All looked quiet here. For now. I punched in 911.
A dispatcher picked up. Before he finished his “greeting,” I launched into my explanation of what happened at the Wilcox farm. “When I left, he was passed out drunk.”
“Who was ma’am?”
“Eric Wilcox. The man who threatened to hurt my stepdaughter if I left his house. He wanted me to stay there. My stepdaughter is working at the bookstore. He might show up here.”
“Units are on their way to the residence. An officer will also go to the bookstore. Where is your location?”
“I’m at the bookstore.”
“An officer will be there shortly to talk to you.”
“I’ll be inside.” Even knowing it was best to stay on the line, I hung up and slid out of my car. Almost choking myself with the seatbelt in my haste to get inside the store.
The bell jingled as I yanked open the door of One More Page. I scanned the store for Cassie, desperate to see her blonde hair or hear her laugh. I had to know she was okay. People were milling about. Most smiling as they browsed books and consulted lists. Rachel had three large chalkboard placards listed with the top ten books in a wide range of genres. Off on the side was a wrapping station where customers could wrap their purchases. A little girl was taking advantage of the gift-wrapping station and swaddling a baby doll in a red and green plaid paper.
Christmas carols floated in the air, classic songs from years gone by. The soft tones and gentle voice of the singer had a soothing effect on me. My heart rate slowed. The scolding voice in my head quieted. The scent of sugar cookies a
nd pine, the smells of Christmas, wrapped around me. Everything seemed calm. Normal. As if nothing bad could happen in the store.
Neat stacks of books were piled at the register, each with a name. Rachel must have an option for customers to leave their purchases to be wrapped for them. Shop owners were always adding new services to help increase the profit margin. I didn’t know when Rachel would find the time to wrap presents and run the store.
“Welcome to One More Page,” Garrett greeted me. An elf hat was on top of his head, not quite on as it was too small to pull down. He pointed at it. “Cassie’s idea.”
“Where is she?” I tried to keep my voice light and breezy, instead it came out squeaky and forced.
“Picking out a story for story time. We’re a little behind as we had to redo the display window.”
In place of the naughty and nice signs were books depicting Christmas around the world. I should bring over some of the glass blocks I made, the one with Santa flying over houses would be perfect.
At that moment, Cassie stood and carried an armload of books to a plush chair in the corner of the children’s section. She settled into the seat and flipped through the books. I heaved out a sigh.
“When the story’s over, Rachel holds a mini craft class. This week it’s Christmas ornaments.” Garrett showed me a table filled with sealed boxes. “We’re behind and haven’t had time to set up the crafting stations.”
Perfect reason for me to stick around. “I can help. I’m good with crafts. I can sort out the items while you take care of the customers.” There was a line growing at the register.
“Thanks. I was starting to hate people buying books. But, if no one bought, I’d be out of a job.”
A shadow passed in front of the window. A black jeep pulled into a spot out front. A man jumped out and quickly yanked open the passenger door. A doll flew out and landed on the hood of the car next to the jeep. A stuffed dog followed, resting on top of the doll. Either the child had great aim or had plenty of practice throwing items. Just what Cassie and Garrett needed, unruly kids coming to attend the craft event. Good thing I showed up when I did. I just hoped the wild one didn’t interfere with me keeping an eye out for Eric.
BETTER WATCH OUT Page 11