Silent Night, Haunted Night Read online

  I was pretty sure Ernie had forgotten my name, but that was cool; he’d been around a long time, and seen plenty of pink-haired girls in his day.

  “I’m not doing too good today, Mr. Phelps,” I answered, giving him a smile in return. While my dad had called him Ernie, to me he’d always been Mr. Phelps. “My battery died. Can you get me a new one?”

  The old man leaned back in his chair and bellowed his grandson’s name with more volume than you’d expect from a skinny, withered old coot. “Leland! Get yourself on up here, boy!”

  Lee stuck his head in the door that led to the garage. “What is it, Granddaddy? I got plenty to do—” He saw me and stopped, a slow grin replacing a look of annoyance. “Hey, Nicki.”

  Lee and I had sort of known each other since we were kids, but he was at least five years older than me, so I couldn’t say I knew him well. His caramel-tinted skin was a lot lighter than Ernie’s, and his toffee-colored eyes had a slight slant, both compliments of his mom, who, though I didn’t know her name, was obviously of Asian descent.

  “Hey, Lee,” I returned.

  “What are you doin’ in here?” He wore his hair close-cropped, and had a lean, lanky build. Smiling, he came all the way into the office, wiping his hands on an oily rag. “Granddaddy givin’ you a hard time?”

  “What you mean ‘givin’ her a hard time,’ boy?” Ernie bristled, but I knew it was just for show. He and Lee were tight. “You the one wantin’ to give her a ‘hard time,’ and don’t think I don’t know it!”

  “Granddaddy,” Lee tried to shush him, but Ernie wasn’t to be shushed.

  “This pretty little thing knows what I’m talkin’ about, don’t ya?” He gave me a wink and a snaggletoothed grin, obviously enjoying his grandson’s discomfort.

  “Lee’s never given me a hard time,” I said, with a straight face. “He’s always been very nice to me.”

  “Nice!” Ernie leaned back, disappointed that I wasn’t going to play naughty. “Sometime he can be too nice.” The look he gave Lee was laden with hidden meaning, but I didn’t have time to decipher it.

  “I’ve got a dead battery,” I told Lee. “Had to call a tow truck to jump it.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Lee was studiously ignoring his grandfather. “You should’ve called here. I would’ve jumped it for you at no charge.”

  “Oh, he’d a jumped it all right,” Ernie muttered to himself, turning back to his CNN.

  I could’ve kicked myself, because the thought of calling Ernie’s hadn’t even occurred to me. I could’ve saved ninety bucks and avoided a serious case of the icks. But, in my own defense, I was pretty panicky at the time, having just seen—

  “Thanks.” I interrupted my own thoughts, not wanting to go where they were taking me. “I didn’t think of that, but I sure will next time. It’s out front; I left the engine running.”

  “I’ll need the key.” He smiled at me again, almond-shaped eyes becoming more pronounced. “I’ll have it ready for you tonight, before we close.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to have this particular problem taken care of.

  “You need a ride somewhere?”

  I hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes, actually. I’d like to go home.”

  Needed to go home. It had been quite a day.

  A grin split his face. “Give me a minute to move your car into one of the bays and wash my hands.” He was already moving toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t you go breakin’ his heart, now,” Ernie said idly, as soon as his grandson left. He was talking to me, but kept his eyes on the TV. “He talk a good game, but he too soft when it come to women.”

  I laughed a little. “Lee’s virtue is safe with me, Mr. Phelps. I’ve got a boyfriend.”

  “All ya’ll got a boyfriend,” the old man said, with a negligent wave of a hand. He wasn’t being rude, and I took no offense. At his age, he had the right to say whatever he wanted. Besides, I’d been raised not to argue with the elderly. On CNN, the talking heads had moved on to news coverage of a tropical storm over Cuba, and I watched the footage with interest, thinking how awful it must be to have no electricity for days on end.

  “Your friend don’t look too healthy,” Ernie went on, in a complete change of subject.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your friend.” Ernie was still watching TV, not even turned in my direction. “The woman you drove up with. The one wearing the bathrobe, lookin’ all pale and peaked. She in the ladies’ room?”

  A chill ran down my spine.

  He gave me an over-the-shoulder glance. “She got the flu? ’Cause I don’t need no flu.” He looked back at CNN. “At eighty-six, I damn sure don’t need no flu.”

  “No,” I said faintly, “she doesn’t have the flu.” And then I turned and walked outside, not knowing what else to say.

  Was it possible?

  I hadn’t seen Angie Rayburn since I left the hospital, but she fit Ernie’s description; pale, unkempt, wearing a bathrobe. Had she hitched a ride with me? If she did, why hadn’t she shown herself? Even more pressing, where was she now?

  I looked nervously around the parking lot. My car had been moved into a bay, and there was no one at the gas pump. The restroom was on the side of the building, so I walked over and tapped on the door.

  No answer.

  I tried the knob and found it unlocked. “Hello?” I opened the door and stuck my head in—it was empty, and in dire need of some air freshener. “Anybody here?”

  No response.

  I shut it and walked away.

  Was Mr. Phelps just a confused old man, thinking about someone else, or was I being followed? When you’re old, the veil is thinner, my Grandma Bijou would say.

  And she’d probably be right, as she was in most things having to do with spirits. Living in a haunted house for over forty years had left her pretty in tune with the veil.

  I shook my head. I was just being paranoid. After the day I’d had, nobody could blame me for being paranoid.

  All I knew was that I didn’t want this particular problem. Angie Rayburn came with some very scary strings attached.

  That cold, oozing mass of blackness…

  I rubbed my arms briskly to keep warm, wishing Lee would hurry up. Selfishly, I hoped I never saw her again.

  CHAPTER 4

  “So it didn’t work out,” Lee was saying. “I needed stability in my life, not drama, and Chanel was all about the drama.” He turned left, his old Lincoln Town Car gliding down my street like a big old-fashioned yacht, complete with hood ornament. “I see the kids every other weekend, though—we worked it out. Daryl’s into Little League, and Kayla is my little prima ballerina.” He smiled, glancing at me as he drove. “I go to all Daryl’s games, and Kayla’s recitals. It’s all good.”

  Lee’s car was immaculate, a great example of how a classic car should be treated. He said he’d had it since high school. The interior gleamed with leather polish, and the silvery-blue paint job looked elegant, not overdone.

  “It’s great you guys can get along for the kids,” I said, and meant it. “How’s your mom and dad?” I was just making conversation, still distracted by the thought of Angie Rayburn. What if she was sitting in the backseat of the Lincoln right now, with neither of us able to see her?

  “They’re good. Granddaddy’s good, though he’s starting to get a little spacey.”

  “Spacey?” Like hallucinations, maybe? I was ashamed to find myself hopeful at the thought.

  He waved a hand. “Oh, you know, like he’s not there all the time. Sometimes he don’t hardly make sense, and sometimes he’s sharp as a tack. He’s just gettin’ old, that’s all.”

  “Sorry to hear it,” I told Lee.

  “Part of life,” he said comfortably. “What about you?” I noticed a quick check of my ring finger. “Are you seeing anybody?”

  Lee was a good-looking guy, by anyone’s standards. Mocha latte skin, high cheekbones, strong hands. If he’d m
ade his play before I met Joe, I would’ve definitely taken him up on it, no strings attached. As it was now, I was so knotted up in strings that I’d never be untangled, and I liked it that way.

  “I am. His name’s Joe.” I smiled at the thought of him. I was flattered by Lee’s interest, but I wanted to be clear. “Over a year now. I’m crazy about him.”

  Lee shook his head, still smiling. “He’s a lucky guy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So there’s no chance that you and I…” He hesitated, and I jumped in.

  “No, darn it.” I opted for honesty, with a side of teasing. “We missed that window. While I was off sowing my wild oats, you were settling down, making babies.” I kept my voice light, teasing. “Now I’m in a relationship, and you’ve got some wild oats to sow, boy! I mean, you were what, in high school, when you got married? You need to go out there and have some fun!”

  He laughed, recognizing the truth as well as the irony in my statements. “Always thought you was cute, though,” he said, giving me honesty in return.

  “Thanks.” I was glad we’d laid it all out on the table. Lee was a nice guy, and didn’t want any awkwardness between us. “And thanks for the ride.” We were nearing my house. “It’s the white one with the porch, right here.”

  “This where you live?” He craned his neck to get a good look. “Nice neighborhood.”

  “Thanks.” I got out, leaning in before I shut the door. “You’ll call me when the car’s ready?”

  “I’ll call you,” he said, “probably be after six, though.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, shutting the door and backing away with a wave.

  “Nicki.” Lee leaned way in over the seat so we could see each other clearly. “He’s a lucky guy.”

  I laughed, flattered, yet agreeing completely.

  “Thanks,” I said, with a final wave good-bye. “I’ll remind him of that.”

  Depression is a medical illness that affects both the mind and the body, and is one of the most common health conditions in the world. It affects approximately 12 million people each year, and can strike anyone, anytime, though it typically arises in the late twenties, and affects twice as many women as men.

  Symptoms range from mild to severe, from depressed mood and irritability to morbid thoughts of death. It is estimated that 15 percent of those suffering from major depressive disorder eventually resort to suicide.

  An interesting turn of phrase, “resort to suicide,” as if death truly were the only way out. Poor Angie—it wasn’t her fault she’d been over-whelmed—this condition could’ve happened to anybody.

  Which was a pretty scary thought in itself.

  I pushed myself away from the computer and got up, needing a break. Joe wouldn’t be here until eight-thirty, and I was hungry, having missed lunch because of all the drama over Selene and Mary Mathews—an incident that already seemed distant, as if it had happened days ago instead of just a few hours.

  Luckily for me, the house stayed quiet. If Angie’s spirit had followed me, she hadn’t shown herself, so there was nothing I could do. I refused to worry myself into a frenzy over it, not when I could eat instead. Not much in the fridge except yogurt and apples—anyone could tell Joe was spending more time here. I helped myself to a yogurt, smiling at the thought.

  Then I wandered my quiet house while I ate, pausing to notice more evidence of Joe. His favorite navy blue sweater, tossed over a chair. The latest issue of Scientific Review on the bedside table. The shaving stuff in the spare bathroom. His toothbrush in the cup next to mine.

  Evan was right. Joe and I had been together quite a while now. We were good together, and I didn’t want that to end.

  Or change.

  But what if he did ask me to marry him?

  The phone rang just after six, as promised.

  “Hello.”

  “Nicki? This is Lee, at the garage.”

  “Hey, Lee. Is the car ready?”

  Silence for a moment, then, “So you didn’t pick it up?”

  “What? I’ve been waiting for you to call me.”

  Lee heaved a sigh. “I was hoping maybe Granddaddy called you, and that you’d already picked it up.”

  Confusion set in.

  “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but your car is gone, Nicki. Someone must’ve stolen it from the lot.”

  “Gone?” I thought maybe I’d misheard him. “My car’s gone?”

  “I picked up a battery after I dropped you off,” Lee said. “Came back to the shop, put it in, moved it to a space out front. Had a couple of customers to take care of—Granddaddy went home, said he wasn’t feeling good—and next thing I know, I look out the window, and your car’s gone. I’m really sorry, Nicki. As soon as I hang up with you I’ll call the police and report it stolen.”

  “Shit,” I said, unable to say anything else. Shit, shit, shit. I loved that car—fire engine red, sporty, good gas mileage. And my CDs…I groaned, hating to think of all the great music I’d lost. I’d have to rebuild my entire collection.

  “I’m so sorry, Nicki.” Lee obviously felt terrible. “We’ve never had anything happen like this before.”

  That was no consolation. “Are you sure it’s not there?” I asked hopefully, even though I knew the answer wouldn’t be the one I hoped for. The parking lot at Ernie’s wasn’t all that big, and it’s not like a red Honda would be hard to find.

  “I’m sure. I went out and walked all around the building before I called you. It’s gone.”

  I wanted to yell, to hit, to break something, but I shut my eyes and took a deep breath instead. “Do I need to come down there and talk to the police?”

  “I don’t think so,” Lee said. “I’ll give them your information, and they’ll probably just call you. I’m afraid the Atlanta police don’t get too excited about stolen cars. Happens every day.”

  Not to me, it doesn’t.

  “Okay.” I sighed, in defeat. “But get the officer’s name for me, will you? I want to be able to call if I need to. I don’t want to just sit around and wait for them to call me.”

  “I will,” he said promptly. “I’ll call you back with it. You’ve got insurance, right?” He sounded a little worried at the thought I might not.

  “Of course I do.”

  “I’d call ’em right away.” Lee said. “They’ll need a copy of the police report, but most policies have a rental car agreement—comes in handy at a time like this.”

  “I’ll do that.” Why weren’t you this helpful when it came to keeping an eye on my car?

  “I feel really bad,” he said. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I hung up, staring glumly at the floor.

  “Okay, universe,” I said, out loud. “You win today. You’ve kicked my butt. I give up.”

  CHAPTER 5

  The evening got better.

  After I’d talked with the police and dealt with the insurance people, I finally got to spend time with Joe, and that made all the difference.

  “I’ll drop you at the rental car place in the morning,” he was saying. It was just after nine, and we were eating Chinese takeout over the wooden chest I used as a coffee table, him sitting cross-legged on the floor while I lounged on the couch. Half-empty bottle of wine, candles flickering, Sting on the CD player. Yeah, definitely better.

  “You drive a rental for a week or so,” he said, “get a check from your insurance company to cover the value of your car, then we get to pick out a new one.”

  I looked at him archly while I speared a few more noodles from the carton. “We get to pick out a new one?” I was perfectly willing to car shop with him, but this was going to be my car. I liked small and sporty with a nice-sized trunk, big enough for spur-of-the-moment garage sales, sleek enough to look good on the road.

  “You get to pick out a new one,” he conceded. “But I get to go with you, which means I have input in your decision.” He smiled in triumph, reaching for the soy sauce. “Simpl
e logic. Ipso facto. We’ll look at BMWs first.”

  “I’m not impressed with your Latin or your logic,” I teased, “and I can’t afford a BMW. You can go with me to look at Hondas, but only to keep the sales guys away until I’m ready to test drive one. You can be my muscle,” I teased. “Like my guardian or something.”

  Joe flicked a snow pea at me, but I ducked.

  “You need a guardian,” he said, to get me back, jabbing a chopstick at me as emphasis. Luckily, he was smiling as he said it. “Here I am, running all over Atlanta on a regular basis to help you with your problems, and yet when I need help, you’re totally useless.” He popped a bit of rice into his mouth, grinning to take the sting from his words as he chewed and swallowed. “Cute, but useless.”

  Inwardly I cringed. It was his first mention of the way I’d frozen when he’d asked for help with Mary Mathews’s CPR.

  “I’m sorry about that. I guess I was a little freaked when I saw her lying on the sidewalk, particularly after what happened the night before.”

  “Oh yes,” he said, with a teasing glint in his eye, “your horrible nightmare where a beautiful woman found me attractive.”

  I arched an eyebrow at him, only willing to be teased so far.

  He took the hint and left it alone. After a moment, I asked, “How is she? Any change?”

  He shook his head. “She’s stable, vitals look good. The cardio boys have her now, so she’s in good hands. With any luck there’ll be no lasting damage to the heart muscle.”

  “Good.” I meant it. The sooner Mary Mathews recovered and left our lives, the better, as far as I was concerned—mainly because she’d be taking Selene with her.

  I hadn’t told Joe about the rest of my day yet, saving my encounter with Angie Rayburn for after we’d eaten and enjoyed a glass of wine, but it was time. “Not all your cases have such a happy ending, do they?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, but I knew what he was thinking—he didn’t like to let death win. “No, they don’t.” He usually spared me the ugly details when it happened, but there had been times when he’d come home subdued, and I’d known it was because someone died on his shift.