Twelve Slays of Christmas: A Christmas Tree Farm Mystery by Jacqueline Frost

Author:Jacqueline Frost [Frost, Jacqueline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, General, FIC022070 Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Cozy, Fiction, Amateur Sleuth, Cozy
ISBN: 9781683313182
Google: yESFDgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Crooked Lane Books
Published: 2017-10-10T09:44:34.559000+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

I pulled piles of outdoor gear from the coat closet and layered them over my clothes. I couldn’t start a new fire until the sheriff arrived, and I couldn’t shake the chill in my bones. I didn’t want to disturb the note or the matches. I made another pass through the little house, dressed like I was headed into the arctic. I checked the windows and door locks and peered through each icy pane of glass in search of the sheriff who’d promised to be here in five minutes seven minutes ago.

Unable to sit or relax, I dialed my mom’s cell phone.

“Hello?” Her voice was pert and jovial.

“Hi. How’s it going?”

“Holly? What’s wrong?” A chair scraped heavily over the floor on her end of the line, and the hum of white noise grew soft. “Have you been crying? Do you need me?”

A wedge of emotion clogged my throat. The mere fact she knew I was upset made it harder to pull myself together. “I’m okay. Just checking to see if dinner is still at seven.”

“Oh.” She paused. “We’re running a little behind, but don’t wait on us if you’re hungry. The roast should be ready now. Help yourself.”

“Okay.” I ran the sleeve of my coat under my nose and pressed a mitten to each eye.

“Why don’t we talk after dinner? Just us girls. Just like old times. It’s been too long since we’ve done that. I miss it.”

I nodded despite the fact she couldn’t see me. A fat tear slid over my cheek. “Me too. That sounds really good.” I said good-bye before I told her the whole sordid story of my near-death experience. The coward in me hoped the sheriff would break the news to my parents while I concentrated on looking unscathed for their benefit. I couldn’t possibly deliver any more bad news this week. I was becoming a nuisance.

I moved to the next window and peeked outside when the sound of an engine reached my ears. A big black truck barreled into view, throwing snow in its wake and carving a path from the entrance gate at Reindeer Games all the way to my house. The beast stopped out front and settled a massive metal plow blade near my steps moments before the truck went still.

Sheriff Gray exited the cab with a lethal look in his eyes. He climbed the porch steps like a panther, so wholly focused I could practically feel his intensity through the glass. He approached the door with one hand at his back, presumably on a concealed handgun. A black duffel bag hung over his shoulder.

No cruiser. No uniform. No badge. For a moment, I worried that he was the killer, and I was the idiot who kept calling him to report his crimes.

I hurried back down the hall to the front door and opened it slowly, hands raised.

His eyes widened a split second before pinching into slits. “What are you doing? Put your hands down.” His dark jeans and leather jacket looked anything but official.

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