Murder Under The Mistletoe. Terri Reed
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in the doorway with her hand hovering over the light switch, she smiled patiently at her son. Colin looked so much like Ken with his dark brown hair falling over one eye and his dimpled chin. She ached with love for her son and regret that he’d never know his father. “Yes, sweetie?”
Her late parents had taught her that replacing the word what with the more positive yes when talking to children created a strong, effective bond. The proof was in how close her family had been.
Colin’s big blue-green eyes stared at her intently. “Do you think Uncle Seth is with Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa?”
The innocent question speared through her like a hot poker. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears of grief at bay. Five years ago, just before Colin’s first birthday, her husband had been killed while serving his country in Afghanistan, leaving Heather to raise their son alone. She’d made sure every day that Colin knew his father had loved him. Adding to her grief, her parents had been killed in a freak car accident when Colin was four.
Now, two years later and five days ago, she’d lost her younger brother, Seth, to what appeared to be a cocaine overdose.
She struggled to comprehend how Seth had fallen back into using drugs after being clean the past couple of years. He’d had so much going for him. A fiancée he adored, half the tree farm and a bright future. She didn’t know what had sent him running back to the abyss.
Placing one hand on her chest, she leaned against the doorjamb, needing the strength of her childhood home to keep her upright when the grief pressing down on her threatened to send her to the floor in a heap. “Yes, dear. I’m sure they are all together.”
A familiar tide of anger washed over her. Anger at God for allowing the tragedies that had left her and Colin alone in the world. On the heels of the anger came a flood of guilt for blaming God. Sometimes it was hard to cling to her faith when the world tried to knock her down.
The cell phone in the pocket of her plush robe buzzed.
“I’ll come back to check on you in a bit,” she told Colin, then flipped off the light and stepped into the dimly lit hallway to answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Your brother’s death isn’t what it seems,” a rough, low voice said into her ear, sending a chill down her spine. “Leave the farm. It’s not safe.”
Her breath hitched; her mind reeled. “What? Who is this?”
The line beeped, then went silent.
A tremor from deep inside worked its way out of her.
Leave the farm. It’s not safe.
She put a hand on the wall to steady herself, feeling the familiar fuzzy velvet texture of the flock wallpaper. This couldn’t be happening, not now with Seth’s death hanging over her like a cloud of doom.
His death had been ruled an accidental overdose.
Even if she wanted to leave the farm, she and Colin had nowhere to go. The day she had learned of Seth’s death, she’d given up her job and the apartment in Washington State to move back to Idaho.
Now the Christmas tree farm was her and Colin’s only home. Their livelihood. Without the farm she wasn’t sure what would happen to them.
Seeds of fear burrowed in her chest and took root. She quickly made her way downstairs, checking that the doors were securely locked. She peered out the front picture window. The full moon, big and round and shining brightly, bathed the sea of Douglas fir, grand fir and noble fir trees stretching over forty acres of land on the tree farm that had been in her family for three generations.
Long shadows obscured the front drive. The other work buildings on the farm were dark, as well. The small cabins that provided lodging for the seasonal employees couldn’t be seen through the thick grove of trees, creating a sense of isolation that had never bothered her when she was growing up here.
But she’d never had a menacing phone call before now.
Suddenly movement on the fringe between the trees and the wide expanse of lawn caught her eye. Then the shadow shifted and disappeared. Had she really seen something out there? Or was fear making her paranoid?
She yanked the curtains closed. Surely she was imagining things. Satisfied the house was locked up tight, she hurried back upstairs to the master bedroom that had once belonged to her parents and her grandparents before them. Though she’d replaced her parents’ belongings with her own, she still considered the room theirs.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she called the local sheriff’s office and told the answering sergeant about the disturbing call. She couldn’t be sure she’d seen anything in the shadows of the trees, so she kept that to herself. Because there was no immediate threat, the sergeant promised to send a deputy over in the morning.
Not at all reassured, she hung up and crawled into bed. She held her phone to her chest. Right now she wished she’d given in to Colin’s pleas for a dog. Tomorrow she would go to the local animal shelter and find a nice big canine with a loud bark.
She leaned back against the pillows, her gaze landing on the picture of her parents hanging on the opposite wall. Her mother had been so beautiful and her father so handsome. But more important, they’d been great parents to her and Seth, providing a stable home and love. Lots of love.
The very things she wanted to give Colin.
Somehow none of that had been enough to keep Seth from turning to drugs. She didn’t know what had driven him to seek the high of narcotics when he was younger. Or more recently. The not knowing ate at her. He’d refused to talk about the dark days of his addiction. Heather had hoped one day he’d realize she loved him no matter what.
Maybe if she’d stayed closer to home rather than leaving for college, Seth wouldn’t have turned into a junkie. Maybe if she’d begged, Ken would have left the army. Maybe if she’d been with her parents that night, they wouldn’t have died in that accident. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
She turned off the light and lay in the dark. She wanted to pray for God to protect them and lessen the burden of guilt she carried. But her prayers for Ken’s safety had gone unanswered. Why would God listen to her now?
Her eyelids grew heavy. Her head bobbed as sleep’s greedy hands pulled her into slumber.
A soft thud jolted her fully awake. Her heart nearly exploded with fright. She bolted from the bed and strained to listen.
Nothing.
Maybe it had been Colin getting up to use the bathroom. Yes, that had to be it. She sucked in air and slowly released her breath, working to calm her frantic pulse. She glanced at the clock. She’d slept for three hours.
After pulling on her robe, she padded quietly down the hall to check on her son. The bathroom was dark and empty. She moved on to his room. The moon’s glow streamed through the open curtains, revealing Colin fast asleep. She closed the door and waited. The house was silent now, yet the hairs on her nape rose and chills prickled her skin.
Cautiously, she moved to the top of the stairs and stared into darkness.
Was someone in the house?
Another noise jolted through her, making her tremble. She needed to call for help. As quietly as she could, she raced back to her bedroom and swiped the phone off the bed, then hurried into the hall and stood guard in front of Colin’s door. She dialed and when the sergeant answered, she whispered, “This is Heather Randall again. There’s someone in my house!”
“Are you sure?” the man asked. “Have you seen an intruder?”
“No, I heard a noise.”
He sighed. “Sit tight. I’ll send one of the deputies out.”
Sit tight? It would take at least thirty minutes for a deputy to reach the farm from Bonners Ferry, the nearest town. Was she supposed to wait and see if the intruder