Magic in Christmas River: A Christmas Cozy Mystery (Christmas River Cozy Book 7) (6 page)

He smiled.

“Anything you like, darlin,’”

I laughed.

I loved it when Daniel got like this: loving and flirtatious, he was making it clear that he was trying to sweep me off my feet tonight.  

“If I knew that a few orange and black lights could make you so happy, then I’d hang ‘em up year round,” I said.

“Oh, it’s not just those,” he said.

“Then what else has got you in such a jolly mood tonight?”

He shrugged, spinning the coaster in front of him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I guess you’d say that I’m just… satisfied. Simple as that. Things are just
good
.”

“They are, aren’t they?” I said, gazing into his eyes.

He nodded.

“I’m a hell of a lucky man,” he said. “And by some grace of God, I know it.”

I felt my cheeks glow red.

I knew a little something about the feeling myself.

“You know, the other day I was just thinking about how much my life has changed since I moved back here to Christmas River. About how different things are for me now.”

He leaned in close to me, his face grazing mine.

“My life used to be Chinese take-out, late nights chasing bad guys, and insomnia,” he said. “I don’t even know who that guy was anymore. Because now, I’ve got the love of a beautiful woman and a job where I get to protect the community I care about. Not to mention all the pie I could ever want.”

I smiled.

Daniel had a way of making light of things, but the sentiment behind his words was 100-percent true.

“I’m sorry you ever had to live any other way, hon,” I said, meeting his burning stare.

He reached out a hand, stroking my cheek briefly like I was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever beheld.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” I said, hopping off the barstool and standing up.

I started wrapping my scarf around my neck, as he pulled on his coat.

“But if you think all that sugar and honey you laid down on me just now gets you out of the doghouse, then I’m afraid you’ve underestimated your wife’s ability to hold a grudge,” I said.

He smirked. Then he stood up, grabbing my coat and holding it out for me.

“I thought as much,” he said. “I figured it’d take a lot more to get outta there. But you know me…”

I slid into my jacket and he leaned down, pressing his lips close to my ear.

“
Whatever it takes
,” he whispered.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

I turned around.

“
Daniel Brightman
,” I said again, pretending to be shocked by what he was implying.

He winked at me, then settled up our tab.

Chapter 11

“Cin, watch out!”

I heard the warning too late.

By that time, the SUV had already started peeling out backwards, roaring like a red monster in the darkness of The Pine Needle Tavern’s parking lot.

I watched in stunned horror as it rumbled toward me like I wasn’t even there at all.

It was too late to do anything, I realized.

There was no way of getting out of this one.

I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the inevitable impact.

A moment later, it came.

I hit the asphalt with a hard, painful thud, my lower back taking the brunt of the hit. I let out a small gasp and waited for whatever bone-breaking lay ahead when the back tires of the SUV rolled over my body.

But nothing happened.

When I opened my eyes a few moments later, Daniel was lying next to me on the pavement. The car, which had backed up and narrowly missed us, had its headlights shining deep into the night.

The driver’s door slowly opened.

“Damn, you okay, Cin?” Daniel said, pushing himself up off the ground and coming towards me.

I sat up, feeling a sharp pain radiate from my spine as I did. I looked down at my hands – they were red and raw from their impact with the rough asphalt.

“Oh lordy, oh lordy, oh lordy…”

A high-pitched, youthful voice sounded from somewhere behind the headlights.

“Cin, are you hurt?” Daniel asked, kneeling over me and touching a hand to the side of my face.

“I… uh…,” I mumbled, lost in some sort of fuzzy daze.  

“
Oh, lordy
. I am so, so, so sorry,” the high pitched voice continued.

I glanced up, squinting through the headlights. The figure of a woman running flashed in front of the glare.

A moment later, her red hair and familiar young face came into focus.

“I didn’t even see you guys walking!” she said. “Are you okay, Mrs. Brightman?”  

Bethany Reid, Harold the bartender’s niece, who had started working at The Pine Needle Tavern this past summer, stood over us, a deathly worried expression on her face.

Though whether her concern had more to do with us being hurt, or with her car insurance premium going up on account of this accident wasn’t immediately clear.

Daniel stood up, ignoring her for the time being. He reached both hands out to me. I took them, and a moment later, I was standing on my own two feet.

I would be sore tomorrow, that was a given. But as far as I could tell, nothing was broken.

“We should get you to the hospital,” Daniel said.

“No, no. I’ll be fine.”

The thought of waiting for a doctor to see me at this hour wasn’t in the least bit appealing.

But Daniel persisted.

“It’s important, Cin,” he said. “If you hit your head, you could have a concussion. And that’s something that—”

“I didn’t hit my head,” I said. “I’m okay. Really.”

“Oh,
thank heaven
,” Bethany said, closing her eyes and placing a hand over her heart in a dramatic gesture. “I seriously don’t know what I would’ve done if I ran over you all.”

Anger flashed across Daniel’s eyes, and I knew that Harold’s niece was in for a sharp scolding.

“Have you been drinking tonight, Ms. Reid?”

Her face turned whiter than a ghost. She clasped a hand over her chest again, her dark blue nail polish catching the glow of the headlights.

“Absolutely not, Sheriff,” she said, shaking her head vehemently. “Uncle Harold doesn’t let any of the waitresses drink on the job. And I would
never
do anything so irresponsible as drink and drive. That’s just not me.”

She looked queasy, like she might just lose her dinner all over the concrete.

“You see, the reason I pulled out in such a hurry just now was because the babysitter called, saying that Hayden’s come down with a 102-degree fever. He’s been sick all week and I’m worried about the pneumonia. That’s how come I’m leaving halfway through my shift.”

Daniel stared at her hard, sizing the woman’s story up.

She let out a short sigh.

“I know that doesn’t excuse my erratic driving just now, Sheriff. But it’s foggy out here and hard to see. And you can ask Harold if you want to verify my story. Just please – please don’t press charges or sue me, Sheriff. I’m a single mother and I’m barely scraping by. I can’t afford a lawyer on my salary.”

The white hot anger in Daniel’s eyes cooled slightly.

He glanced over at me, giving me a once over.

I nodded at him.

He looked back at Bethany.

“I’m gonna need your insurance information,” Daniel said.

The young woman’s face fell.

“
As a precaution
,” he added. “If Cinnamon is uninjured, then we won’t report this. But you
need
to pay better attention when you’re driving, Ms. Reid. You’re not gonna do Hayden any good if you get in an accident.”

She let out a long-winded sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank you, Sheriff,” she said. “Thank you, thank you. And I will pay better attention in the future. I promise.”

I watched as she ran back to her car, her heels clicking hard against the concrete. She rummaged around in the glove compartment, looking for her insurance card.

I noticed that Daniel was staring at me.

“You really okay, Cin?”

I looked back at him, biting my lower lip.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I said.

“C’mon,” he said, gently nudging me. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Better safe than sorry.”

“No, no,” I said. “It’s not that. I’m not hurt.”

“Then what is i…”

He trailed off, understanding suddenly why I was so shaken.

And why I couldn’t stop shivering.

“Cin, this has nothing to do with—”

“Just like the knife this morning had nothing to do with me seeing her either?”

Daniel didn’t say anything for a long moment. He just looked hard at me.

He tried to hide it, but in the strong glow of the headlights, I saw it before he could.

In Daniel’s steadfast eyes, there was something that looked out of place. Something foreign. Something that looked all wrong.

Fear
.

Chapter 12

The ring
.

I stared up at the ceiling, watching as the shadows of the aspen branches outside the bedroom window writhed across it like snakes.

The alarm clock glowed a hollow 2:55 a.m.

I’d been looking at the ceiling for the past half-hour, thinking about old Hattie Blaylock and all the stories I’d heard about her over the years. Specifically, the deaths that kids around here said she caused with her sinister black magic.

There was Arnold Carrolton, the owner of the Christmas River GasMart back in the mid-90s. Legend had it that Arnold, who was only 53 when he died, had had an argument with his neighbor Hattie just a week before suffering a massive heart attack. I was in middle school then, and I remembered that the kids couldn’t stop talking about his death and the fact that his point of contention with Hattie had to do with her cat, Mr. Adams, using Arnold’s lawn as a litter box.

According to the kids, one evil glare from Hattie had taken care of the problem.

Then there was Suzanne Eagan. Suzanne was the Christmas River Library’s long-suffering head librarian. Legend had it that Hattie paid a visit to the Christmas River Library mere days before Suzanne’s car skidded off a rural country road and down a snowy embankment, where the poor woman died before a search and rescue crew could find her. Kids said Miss Eagan had crossed Hattie by not giving her the book she wanted at the library.

There were more deaths said to be attributed to Hattie, but then I suddenly remembered something that had completely slipped my mind with the evening’s events.

The ring
.The one that I had found behind the wall.

I carefully pushed aside the down comforter and stood up slowly, doing my best to not wake Daniel. Huckleberry’s ears pricked up from his end of the bed. He lifted his head and watched as I softly stole across the hardwood floor over to the chair in the corner, where I had tossed my jeans earlier that night.

I rummaged around in the front pocket, finding nothing. I flipped the jeans over and searched in the opposite pocket. I had just about given up on it, thinking the ring must have slipped out on the floor, when my hand hit something cold and metallic.

I tiptoed over to the master bathroom, clutching the object tightly. Huckleberry was still watching me silently, while Chadwick and Daniel continued to breathe softly in the throes of deep sleep.

I quietly closed the door behind me and flicked on the bathroom light. The severe contrast burned my eyes, and I blinked hard for a few moments, trying to regain my vision.

When I could finally see, I opened my hand and looked down at the class ring. I rubbed the top of it, feeling the raised, tarnished letters, Then I flipped it over, tilting it toward the light, looking inside the band.

There were initials there, but they were damn near impossible to make out beneath the dark stain.

I opened the top left drawer of the cabinet, rummaging around until I found the ultrasonic jewelry cleaner that Kara had gotten me a couple of Christmases ago. Though the gift had been thoughtful, I hardly ever used it. I wasn’t like Kara – most days, the only piece of fancy jewelry I wore out was my wedding ring. And even then, I often took it off while I was working, afraid that if I wasn’t careful, it’d end up in one of my pies.

I pulled the cleaner out and plugged it in. Then I opened the top lid, plopping the ring into the liquid. I hit the start button, and waited as the machine did its magic.

Waiting gave me a chance to reflect a little on what I was doing.

I shook my head at myself in the mirror.

I must have been crazy, getting up from my warm bed at three in the morning to clean an old ring that I’d found in the kitchen of my pie shop.

Just like I was crazy to think that an old woman could cause people to die just by looking at them the wrong way.

And just like I was crazy to believe that I was going to be next.

After a few more minutes of watching the tarnish dissolve, I retrieved the ring from the liquid and held it up to the light.

There it was:

RHB.

I stared at the initials, waiting for a feeling of illumination to come.

I said the letters out loud.  

“R-H-B.”

That didn’t do the trick either.

After a few moments, I realized that the letters meant nothing to me.

Though why I had expected them to mean anything in the first place was a mystery. But for some reason, I felt as though they should. As though I should know the name they represented… somehow.

I stood there for a full five minutes, feeling the ring in my hand, closing my eyes, trying to think of what name I knew that the initials could stand for.

But I could think of nobody in town with those initials. Living or dead.

I let the vanity lights of the bathroom dance off the clean pewter for a little while longer, until I suddenly heard something from the other side of the bathroom door.

Something was clawing at the wood frame, wanting in.

I placed the ring in the pocket of my robe and unlocked the door.