BETTER WATCH OUT

by Christina Freeburn

  “It’s the past.” She tried to brush it aside.

  “It’s also in your present,” I said. “It’s why you’re having trouble bonding with Cassie.”

  “She’s eighteen, Merry. She doesn’t want another mother. The girl has had worse luck with them than me.”

  The light turned red. I looked at Bonnie. Her face was full of sadness and regret. “How about her friend? There’s still a chance to have a relationship with her.”

  Bonnie tilted her head to the side, holding still for a long moment before nodding. “A friend. I can do that.”

  “How about you order pizza for pick up, and we can do some Christmas decorating. At your house. I’ll just need to swing by my place first and pick up Ebenezer. I don’t want to leave him alone all night.”

  “Sounds good. I’m so glad the new pizza place has an app. I hate making phone calls.” Bonnie tapped on her phone. “I’ve been wanting to decorate the house but haven’t because I start wondering if it’s too soon for Cassie. Christmas was her and her dad’s thing…that they shared with you. I didn’t want to intrude. What if I’m wrong? What if she didn’t want to ignore Christmas but didn’t know how to start and thought I didn’t want it?”

  The light turned green and I headed for the pizza place. The first year after a loss was gut-wrenching. It was hard enough to remember to breathe, trying to celebrate something—anything—could make you feel like your lungs were being crushed. That first Christmas after my father died was a blur for me and my mom. We had carried on, went through the motions of decorating as it had been our special time. The holidays were when I was brought magically into their lives. My mom didn’t want to lose that. Said she needed it, to celebrate that happiest of days that had brought her and my dad so many more.

  Just because the sightings and sounds of Christmas filled my spirit and eased some of my grief and turmoil, didn’t mean it did the same for everyone else. I wanted Cassie to love the season again, not grow to hate and associate it with bad times.

  Samuel had always been the one to orchestrate the holidays for him and his daughter, until last year when I was part of their life. It had then been us. The only really “us” thing between me and Samuel. I shouldn’t have put so much stock in that area, shelving our relationship in the perfect category because we did Christmas amazing together. Because of that one thing, I had ignored all the non-us moments, all the differences of opinion we had on most other topics. Cassie needed Christmas. Needed good memories of her dad.

  “Cassie was pilfering through my Christmas t-shirts today to find the perfect one to wear to work,” I said. “She took a couple of extras also.”

  “That has to mean she wants to participate in Christmas.”

  I nodded. “She was reading Christmas stories to the children and looked so happy. Also, she was wearing a hat with elf ears and made her co-worker wear one as well.”

  Bonnie smiled. “I do believe we can do with some Christmas magic in the house. Let’s pick up Ebenezer and decorate the night away.”

  “First, the pizza since it’s on the way.” I flipped on the radio and Elvis Presley singing “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” flowed from the speakers. The sound of his deep voice sent a calmness through me. It characterized strength, steadfastness, and optimism. Everything I longed for.

  Bonnie sighed and settled back against the seat. “That’s how you sing Christmas.”

  I reached the small stretch of road where it appeared that you were leaving Season’s Greetings. For almost a mile, there were trees on both sides of the road and no businesses. It was a like a forest sprang up in the middle of town, an undecorated forest as it was the only section of town with no Christmas decorations. It was also deer central. Most accidents between deer and cars happened on this small stretch of road. Residents had petitioned for lights, but it was always vetoed. To the east of me, the trees blocked the view of Jingle All the Way, the local dive bar. Something most people in town appreciated, the ones who didn’t want it known that it existed and those who didn’t want people knowing of their comings and goings from it. On the west side was a small apartment complex. The renters on the backside of the complex feared the lights would keep them awake and also encourage the deer to migrate into their yards.

  “I see some movement by the trees.” Bonnie pointed toward the wooded area on the passenger side.

  I slowed down, alternating my gaze from the road in front of me to the tree line. In the distance, on my right, a large shape moved from a small patch of grass on the side and went across, now moving toward. What was it? A huge deer? Bigfoot? Headlights flashed on. A car.

  I hoped it wasn’t a drunk driver. There had to be some reason the vehicle had pulled off the side of the road and turned off its headlights. Or it was someone trying to figure out how to turn them on. But why pull back on the road before they turned on the headlights?

  “What were they doing?” I asked.

  “Who knows. People behave strangely at night,” Bonnie said. “Might be someone trying to find the small dirt road leading to the bar as they don’t want to use the main entrance.”

  “Hopefully they find it on the next pass or figure it’s better to go home rather than trying to sneak into a bar.”

  “I wonder…” Bonnie trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Could it be Eric?”

  “I’m sure he knows exactly where that road is,” I said.

  In a way I hoped it was Eric because if he was on this road, he wasn’t near Cassie and Helen. Was he trying to track me down? Had he guessed I’d go to talk to Bonnie, and was waiting for me and planned on turning around and getting behind me? But wouldn’t it have been easier to wait until I passed? Unless they planned on hitting into the side of my vehicle, though he’d need a larger car than his two-door truck to knock my Traverse into the trees. Or so I hoped.

  The vehicle heading south was almost beside me. It was a white twelve-passenger van. Large enough to damage my car. I clenched the steering wheel.

  “Look out!” Bonnie jabbed a finger toward the passenger side window.

  A dark shape tipped toward the road.

  I swerved, almost directly into the path of the van. The object hit the side of the car. The van sped up, inching toward the soft shoulder and zipped around me.

  “It’s a person!” Bonnie screamed, grabbing the handle above the door. “Stop!”

  Tears rushed into my eyes and I slammed on the brakes. My car slid into the other lane. I fought with the wheel, trying to get back on the correct side of the road and not hitting the person again. My legs were shaking. I went for the brake—and hit the gas instead. Trees loomed before us. I tugged the wheel away from the trees, spinning my car in a half-circle.

  Bonnie screamed. I pumped the brakes, coming to a stop a few yards away from where the person ran out into the road. My heart was hammering. My vehicle was sideways, though back in the lane that would’ve taken me home.

  “Are you okay?” I faced Bonnie and unbuckled my seatbelt.

  She looked into the rearview mirror and then at me. “They’re not moving.”

  Bonnie bolted out of the car. I turned on my hazards, jumped out and ran to the figure laying in the middle of the road.

  Bonnie was kneeling beside the person, fingers pressed against their neck.

  “Are they okay?” I wrapped my arms around myself, the cold seeping through the fabric of my coat.

  Bonnie stood, trying to block the person from me. “Call 911.”

  I froze in the middle of the street. An overwhelming scent of alcohol wafted toward me. Laying on the ground, face up, was Eric. A dead Eric Wilcox. Clutched tightly in his left hand was a Christmas-hued scarf, gold fringes splayed across the asphalt.

  Red and blue lights swirled around in the night, dancing across the asphalt, giving almost a cheery dance club vibe to the
horrible scene. Orville was placing flares in the road while another officer directed traffic, which had picked up since the accident. An ambulance was pulled to the side of the road. The back door was opened, and the stretcher remained inside. There was nothing the paramedics could do for Eric.

  A sheet was draped over Eric’s body. The lights bounced off and around him. Every time I looked away, my attention returned. My emotions battled each other. Relief that Cassie was safe was followed by shame for feeling something other than sadness at a man’s death.

  Brianna was blocking the looky loos who lived in the apartment building from checking out the deceased. A couple of people had cell phones ready to be the first to post the news to the town’s social media page. A shiver worked its way from my head to my toes. I wanted to throw up. I leaned against my vehicle, wrapping my arms tightly around myself.

  Standing near the shoulder where Eric had emerged, Chief Hudson was talking to Bonnie. She pointed toward the spot where Eric had stumbled out into the road.

  “I didn’t hit him that hard.” My words were barely a whisper.

  Keeping my hands tucked against my side, I walked to the front passenger side of my car. The headlights were still on. There wasn’t a crack in the headlight. There wasn’t any damage to my car. How could I have killed him? Tears ran down my face. I didn’t. I didn’t kill him. I knew it deep within me. Eric had been dead before he hit my car.

  Shame rushed through. Eric was dead, and I was blaming him for it. Why had he stepped out into the road? Especially knowing a car was driving by. It was dark. He had to have seen the headlights. Or had he been hoping to get hit? If Eric knew Rachel had been brought in for questioning, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was arrested for his wife’s murder. My mind returned to the fact that my car had no damage. I hadn’t killed him.

  What had happened to Eric?

  I closed my eyes, forcing into my mind the minutes before impact. “He fell into the road. He didn’t walk out into it.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Orville asked.

  I startled, jerking forward and banging my leg into the bumper. “Yes. He kind of tipped into the road, toward my car. I bet he was at the bar. Surprised you guys didn’t go looking for him there.”

  Inching his head slightly to the side, Orville stared at me, face devoid of expression. I read him loud and clear. It was such an obvious place, they had looked for Eric there, and had instructed the owner to call them when Eric showed up.

  “I’m sorry. Of course, you did. This doesn’t make any sense to me.” I swiped away the fresh tears running down my face. “I didn’t kill him. I know I didn’t kill him.”

  “Aw, Merry, it wasn’t you fault. Eric probably tied on a good one at the bar. It’s dark. The guy walked out right in front of you. You didn’t see him.” Orville patted my back. “Don’t you worry about this. No one is arresting you.”

  “I. Didn’t. Kill. Him.” I said each word loudly and as clear as I could with my voice shaking and tears clogging it. He had to understand. I needed him to understand that. “Look. There’s no damage to my car.”

  Orville inspected my car. “It was likely his head slamming onto the asphalt that killed him.”

  The coroner van pulled up.

  “You and Bonnie can leave,” Orville said. “If we have any more questions, the Chief or I will get a hold of you. Would you like me to call someone for you?”

  “I swear, Orville, he fell into the road and hit the side of my car.”

  Orville sighed. “I understand this is upsetting for you. You don’t want to carry around a burden like this—”

  The van. “There was—”

  He held up his hand to silence me. “It was an accident, Merry. Go home. I can have someone take you if you’d like. I want you to leave while we finish processing the scene. You don’t want to stick around while we do that.”

  He was right. I didn’t. “Can someone drive Bonnie home? I just want to go my house. Crawl into bed.”

  He smiled at me softly and patted my shoulder. “Sure can, Merry. You just go home and tuck yourself in. If you need anything, give me a call.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything. Orville might pick up on the fact I knew something was wrong. What the scene of the crime was portraying wasn’t the truth. Eric didn’t stumble out into the road and die after getting hit by a car. He was lying face up, a couple feet away from where he tripped into my car. Eric hadn’t died on impact. He crawled to that spot.

  Orville paused, turning back to look at me. I held in a breath. He knew it too.

  Twenty-Two

  The inflatable ménage in my front yard cheerfully blinked, waved, or stayed still while lighting up the neighborhood. Even the sight of all the decorations didn’t pick up my dwindling spirits. This was one of the worst Christmas seasons ever. Found out I wasn’t divorced. Cassie was angry at me. Samuel was murdered. Helen was dying. Jenna was murdered. Rachel helped hide Jenna’s body. Eric was dead, someone killed him and had hoped to cover it up by shoving him in front of my car.

  Tears tumbled down my face. For the first time in my life, I desperately wanted the holidays over. All the happiness and cheer made the horror and sadness worse. No wonder some people hid from the holiday.

  “Rachel, why?”

  She knew what I went through being wrongfully accused of Samuel’s murder. How could she do that to someone else? Love was supposed to make you a better person—not worse. There were a lot of good men in Season’s Greetings. Why pick Eric? Someone else’s husband and a man known to love his alcohol a little more than his wife. While I wanted to let Rachel fend for herself in her legal matter, there was something in me that couldn’t write my friend completely off. It wasn’t her livelihood that was at stake, it was her life.

  There was something stirring in my mind, making me feel like I was missing something. It weaved in and out of my overloaded brain. Or it could just be I wanted to be missing something so the truth was no longer the truth. I hated the truth. I hated that one of my best friends helped conceal a murder. A murder her married paramour tried to pin on someone else.

  I pulled into my driveway. Why Norman? Had they hoped Norman would also be blamed for the embezzling, allowing Eric to sneak away with the money? Or had Eric wanted to implicate someone else—Pastor Heath and Sarah—but it was easier to place the body into the sleigh. The pastor likely kept the church’s vans locked. Van. A van had driven past me. A white twelve-passenger van. Just like the one Harmony Baptist purchased.

  Hammy blinked on and off. The curtains across the street peeled back and then fluttered close. Cornelius was shooting me one of his death stares. If there was one thing he hated more than a large inflatable creature, it was a large inflatable creature that blinked and was directly across from his window.

  I smiled over at his house. The brief moment of merriment ended the moment the black jeep parked in Cornelius’s driveway registered in my head. A similar car to the one Jack drove. Carefully, I made my way to the edge of my driveway and squinted, trying to make out the tags. I couldn’t read the numbers, but it was an out of state plate. I was certain it was Jack’s vehicle.

  Why was the forensic auditor at Cornelius’s house? Spying on me?

  Sharp whistles floated out to me. Ebenezer had escaped and was at the front door, either trying to protect the house from intruders or hoping to make a break for it once the door opened. I couldn’t leave Ebenezer alone, who knew what chaos the critter would cause now that he was free, and I was at my threshold for chaos.

  There was an oblong shaped package leaning against my door. What had I ordered? This was not only the season of joy, love, and goodwill toward men but shopping for presents and inventory items. It was either more vinyl or the new makeup mirror I bought my daughter Raleigh.

  I grabbed the package and opened the door, using my feet and the box
to block Ebenezer’s escape route. I flicked on the light that controlled the inside lights. My Christmas tree cast a flickering of green, red, blue, and yellow light around the room. The line of glass blocks glowed. The event that should’ve brought some pride for a job well done now filled me with sadness. I placed the package down and unplugged the blocks, darkening the representations of the floats.

  Quickly, I disassembled the line-up and shoved the blocks into a corner of the living room, at the last moment grabbing an afghan and tossing it over the bunch. I’d deal with them in the morning. I picked up the package and froze. My mail had been delivered earlier. This hadn’t been left by the mail carrier. I stared at the package. There wasn’t a return address on the box.

  Where had it come from? With trembling hands, I carefully opened the box. I gasped. In the package was a naughty list sign—with my name last on the list.

  The one that had Jenna and Eric’s name was with the police. Evidence. Where did this one come from? It looked exactly like the one I made. The original one I had made for Rachel had been stolen. Eric? Had he left the sign at my door before he drank himself to oblivion—which resulted in his death.

  There was one person who’d know for sure. Cornelius. There were two things the old man enjoyed about life: spying and tattling. He’d have noticed who dropped off the package.

  I tucked Ebenezer under my arm like a football. “Come on, buddy, we’re going to visit a neighbor.”

  Ebenezer wasn’t so much of a protection animal more like an early warning system. He hated most people and made a horrific sound, a cross between a high-pitched whistle and nails on the chalk board. If the critter sensed someone nearby, he’d sound his ear-piercing alarm. I should’ve listened to it when Sarah Heath showed up at my doorstep.