Silent Night, Haunted Night Read online

  She didn’t look relieved—she looked bored. I hated to be so paranoid, but I suddenly got the feeling that the whole “lost blanket” routine was just an act, and that she’d come to this store because she knew I’d be in it.

  “Wasn’t it incredibly fortunate that there was a doctor on hand to save her life?” Selene asked mildly, with a smile. “Joe is quite a man.”

  The little girl giggled again, as the casual use of Joe’s name set my teeth on edge. To anyone else in the store, we might appear to be having a polite conversation, but to me, it felt like blades had just been drawn.

  “Yes, he is,” I agreed, shooting Kate a wary glance. Looking Selene in the eye, I added, “I’m a very lucky woman.”

  My mind was screaming, Back off, bitch.

  “Have you two been dating long?” The question was innocent, but I was certain her motives were anything but.

  “Over a year.” I shoved the calendar back into the rack.

  Blue eyes shot to my left hand, then widened in feigned surprise. “What, no ring? You’re not engaged?” She came to within two feet of me, the scent of her perfume invading my space.

  I quite literally felt the challenge she was issuing.

  “Not yet,” I said coldly, “but that’s hardly any business of yours.”

  She shrugged. “Just making conversation. If I had a man like Joe, I’d make sure he didn’t get away.”

  “Maybe you should go find one, then”—I stepped past her, heading for the door—“because Joe is already taken.”

  Her cell phone rang. “Oh, wait just a minute, Nicki, please,” she said, raising a finger to hold me while she took the call.

  Annoyingly, I found myself waiting as she said, “Hello? This is Selene Mathews.” She drew Kate closer, an arm around the little girl’s shoulder, as she listened to the person on the other end of the line. “Oh no.” Perfectly arched brows drew together in perfectly arched distress. “Yes. Yes, we’ll be right there.” She shut her phone with a click, then said to me, “I’m sorry, I have to go. Mother’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  “Oh—”

  But she was already gone, dashing out the door with Katie Bug in tow, a jumble of dark hair and mother/daughterly concern.

  The perfect damsel in distress.

  Both the guy at the register and some guy browsing the book section nearly broke their necks watching her go.

  Was I overreacting? Did my dislike of Selene stem from who she was, or from who I thought she was? Was she just a hot mess with a sick mother and a bratty kid, on the prowl for a new boyfriend? Or was the predatory gleam in her eye, hidden so well behind that perfect veneer, indicative of a bigger problem?

  Either way, I didn’t like her.

  The scent of the incense I’d enjoyed earlier suddenly became very cloying. I’d lost any interest in shopping, so I left Crystal Blue Persuasion and headed out to run my errands, hoping, quite spitefully, that Selene Mathews would twist an ankle in her mad dash toward the hospital.

  “It’s not because she’s perfect,” I murmured to myself, in my own defense, on the way to the dry cleaner. “It’s because she’s not what she seems, and I don’t trust her.”

  “Mary Mathews didn’t make it,” Joe said, as we lay naked in each other’s arms later that night. “She died this afternoon.”

  The warm glow I’d been basking in quickly dissolved.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Shocked, actually—I’d pretty much convinced myself that the Mathews women were up to some supernatural mischief, but if that were the case, then how could Mary be dead? You had to be alive to die, which meant Joe had been right all along. “I know you did all you could to save her.”

  I tried to muster some pity for Selene. It was hard to lose a mother, as no one knew better than I. But somewhere, in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think: No mother to visit at the hospital, no more contact with Joe.

  A terrible thought, but I couldn’t help it.

  “The heart attack brought on a stroke. It was quick. There was nothing we could do.” He sighed, stretching beneath my hand. “It’s a shame, really. She seemed to be improving. It was tough to have to break the news to the family.”

  I lifted my head from his chest. “You broke the news?”

  “My shift, my patient.” He was staring at the ceiling, obviously remembering. “I feel so bad for them. Poor Selene…single mother, struggling to get by—”

  The back of my neck began to tingle.

  “—that cute little girl with no father figure in her life—”

  My head began to feel light.

  “—the grandmother watched Kate after school while Selene worked. Who’s going to watch her now?”

  “Um…day care?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Joe treated a lot of people, but he seldom pondered their personal lives—in his profession, there simply wasn’t time, and yet here he was, on a first-name basis with the ones I liked the least.

  He frowned. “Day care? That seems a bit cold, doesn’t it?”

  I pushed myself farther up on his chest. “I’m not being cold, I’m being practical.” And I was beginning to get practically pissed, though I tried to contain it. “It’s what working mothers do, all over America. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

  He gave me a look. “Is that what you plan to do with your kids?”

  My kids? “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, shocked to my core at how I’d wished he’d said “our kids” instead of “my kids.” I stuck with honesty, though. “If I ever do have kids, I do plan to continue working at the store, so…maybe.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  After a moment, I asked, “What’s wrong with day care?”

  With a shrug, he answered. “Nothing. It’s great for socialization, and can definitely stimulate early learning. I have no problem with it. My sister’s kids are in day care, and they’re doing fine; bright, happy, well-adjusted. It just seems like in this situation, it’s going to be hard enough for that poor little girl to get over the death of her grandmother; throwing her into a totally new environment at the same time seems cruel. I’m surprised you don’t have more sympathy for her.”

  “I have sympathy,” I protested, “plenty of sympathy. But believe me, her mother is the type who always lands on her feet. They’ll be fine.”

  An exasperated noise escaped him. “This isn’t about Selene, Nicki. The woman’s mother just died—it’s no time to be jealous.”

  The way he said her name, as if she were a friend, blew the lid on my temper. I pushed myself off him a little harder than necessary and sat up in the bed.

  “I’m not jealous,” I said hotly. “But I am beginning to wonder why you keep bringing her up.”

  “I don’t keep bringing her up,” he said irritably.

  “Then why are we talking about her now?”

  Joe pulled himself up on an elbow. “Excuse me for telling you something about my day.” He was getting angry, too; it was unlike him to use sarcasm.

  “Tell me something else,” I shot back. “Tell me who was the sickest person to come into the E.R. today, or how the lab screwed up, or something, anything that doesn’t have to do with Selene Mathews.”

  Unsmiling, Joe just looked at me, and for a moment, just a moment, I felt like I’d been judged, and found wanting.

  Abruptly he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “I’m beat.”

  He’d been to the gym before he came over, yet he’d been far from tired when he got here. He’d tumbled me into bed and made love to me within five minutes of walking in the door.

  Not that I was complaining.

  Not about that, anyway.

  “That’s it?” I sat back on my heels, heedless of my nakedness. “You’re just going to walk away and take a shower? We’re not going to talk about this?”

  “You’re obviously being irrational,” he said, showing me his all-too-beautiful bare back and b
ottom as he walked away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  I’d just been dissed, make no mistake.

  Yet another reason to dislike Selene Mathews.

  Knowing it’d be better for both our sakes to let Joe take his shower than to push the issue, I threw myself back down on the bed and dragged on some covers, listening as the rush of water began in the bathroom down the hall. Fuming, I took comfort in the supreme self-control I was exercising by not getting up to flush the toilet while he was showering. In my house, that meant a total lack of water pressure until it filled back up again.

  I must’ve dozed, because the next thing I knew, Joe was leaning over me, fully dressed, smelling of soap and clean male.

  “Shhh…” he murmured, kissing a bare shoulder. “Go back to sleep. I’m going home to catch up on some paperwork before I hit the sack.”

  “You’re not staying?” Groggy, no longer angry, and hoping he wasn’t, either.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, kissing me again. “Go back to sleep.”

  I decided to be content with that, and lay there quietly as he gathered up his wallet and keys, then let himself out.

  I lay there, awake, for a long time.

  Somewhere in the wee hours of the morning, I woke to the sound of someone crying. It was a quiet type of crying, the kind you did in the bathroom stall when you didn’t want anyone to hear you.

  I moved, sat up in the bed, and the sound stopped.

  Afraid, frozen, I listened for it to come again.

  It did, in the form of a muffled sob.

  “Is someone there?” I scrabbled a hand toward the bedside lamp. Light bloomed, but my room was empty except for a long-neglected treadmill in one corner.

  A whimper this time, sounding as if it came from my closet. Goose bumps rose on my arms, and the room suddenly seemed very cold. I wished fiercely for Joe, and for a moment was angry he wasn’t there.

  But that wouldn’t do me any good, now or later. I was going to have to handle it.

  “I know you’re there,” I said boldly, to whatever was in my house. “I can hear you.”

  There was no answer. I sat there, debating the wisdom of opening the closet door. What I wouldn’t give for my dad to be sleeping just down the hall, like he did when I was little. One screech and he’d be there; he’d throw open that door, check for closet monsters, and take a look under the bed for me, too. Then he’d kiss me on the forehead, tuck me back in, and I’d sleep like a baby the rest of the night, knowing that closet monsters were no match for good old Dad.

  But Dad wasn’t here, and I was going to have to save myself.

  More whimpers were coming from the closet.

  “Who is it?” I asked loudly, feeling hysteria rising in the back of my throat like vomit. “Who’s there?”

  “Shh…” I heard a woman whisper. “Please be quiet. I can’t let it find me.”

  I was breathing hard, trying not to panic, when I suddenly realized I could see my own breath. The room was freezing.

  “Turn out the light,” the woman whispered. “I won’t bother you, I promise.”

  No way was I turning out the light.

  “Go away,” I said loudly, pulling the covers up to my ears. “Leave me alone.” Which one of the three was it this time? Selene, Kate, or Mary?

  No answer, but I could hear her crying, quietly, trying to muffle her sobs. “I shouldn’t have done it,” she whimpered. “I can’t believe I did it. So selfish, I was so incredibly selfish.”

  A wave of sadness hit me, and I knew who it was.

  “Angie?” A hitch in her sobs told me I was right. “Angie Rayburn?”

  “Be quiet,” she hissed, sounding on the verge of hysteria herself. “Don’t say my name! It will find me!”

  Oh boy. She hadn’t gone into the Light. She was still here, hiding from the Dark.

  In my closet.

  “Listen to me,” I whispered, looking around the room as I spoke. If any black, smoky goo starting creeping in anywhere, I was going to run like hell and let Angie take her chances this time. “You need to look for the Light. It’s really bright and peaceful, and once you see it you’ll be okay.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered back. “I can’t go yet. Josh and David…they need me!”

  Should’ve thought of that before you—I didn’t say it, though, didn’t even let myself finish the thought. It was too mean.

  “No offense, but if you want to hang around, you should go haunt your own house, not mine.”

  “I’m afraid for them,” she said urgently. “What if it follows me there?”

  “You can’t stay here!” I was starting to get panicky. Being a beacon to the dead was one thing, being a beacon to the Dark that wanted the dead was something else. “Go hide somewhere else!”

  Silence for a moment. “I understand,” she finally said, in a very small voice. “I wouldn’t want to be around me, either.”

  Aw, man.

  “It’s nothing personal,” I said uncomfortably.

  She didn’t answer.

  “If you’d just look for the Light, this would all go away.”

  Still no answer.

  “Angie?”

  I sat there for a full minute, listening, but I didn’t hear anything further. Finally I gathered my nerve and threw back the covers. The hardwood floors felt like ice beneath my bare feet as I padded to the closet. “Angie?” The door opened with a familiar creak, one that I was getting rid of tomorrow with a spritz of oil.

  There was no one there.

  With a sigh, I went to my dresser and pulled out a thick pair of socks, then pulled the comforter off my bed and headed for the living room.

  I might as well turn on the TV. Sleep was going to be hard to come by tonight.

  CHAPTER 7

  The rental car I was driving was a pale blue PT Cruiser. Its retro look had vaguely appealed to me before I drove it, but a day later I wasn’t too impressed—it was just an oddly shaped station wagon.

  I missed my car.

  Admittedly down in the dumps, I drove slowly through my morning errands; a spin through the drive-through lane for a cup of hot coffee, a stop by the bank, a trip to the pharmacy to refill my birth control pills.

  After a not-so-restful night, I tried to look on the bright side: Angie Rayburn was gone, and the Dark hadn’t shown up in pursuit of her, so maybe I was good. Maybe she’d stay away, dissipate on her own, and I’d be home free. Joe hadn’t left angry, and Selene should now be out of our lives for good. Which left us with nothing to fight about. It hadn’t been that bad, really; a minor flare-up that thankfully hadn’t gotten out of hand.

  By the time I’d finished my errands and my coffee, I was feeling more cheerful. At a red light, I called Joe’s cell and left a message on his voice mail. “Hey baby. I love you and I hope you’re having a good day. Call me when you get a chance.” I hung up, figuring less was more after last night’s tension. The ball was in his court now, and Joe had good hands. I knew he’d call me when he could.

  I even tried to be positive about the clunky Cruiser. It was a van next to my Honda, but the extra room in the back would come in handy this weekend. The Buckhead Women’s Auxiliary was holding their annual Christmas bazaar on Sunday afternoon, and Butch, Evan, and I were going to make an afternoon of it.

  A quick phone check with Evan at the store revealed all was quiet, so I decided to run one more errand.

  I drove to BethlehemBaptistCemetery to visit my mom and dad.

  Bethlehem Baptist Church was exactly what it sounded like—a humble little white clapboard in the middle of nowhere, nowhere being the outskirts of Marietta. This was the Georgia foothills, and there were still pockets of the old South everywhere you looked. At some point when I was a kid, I’d developed a macabre fascination with tombstone rubbings, which my parents had indulged by taking me to the local cemeteries. Somehow, we’d found Bethlehem Baptist. It was isolated and peaceful, as most of the graves were from the Civi
l War era. When my dad found out that there were still a few empty grave sites, he’d bought two of them, one for him and one for Mom.

  “Not for you, Nicki.” He’d smiled as it he said it, as if banning me from their burial site was like banning me from their bedroom. “You’ll be buried next to the love of your life one day, somewhere else. Come visit us sometime.”

  Mom said it was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for her.

  Smiling as I wiped away a tear, I parked the Cruiser under the shade of a large oak, and got out. I was ashamed to admit that I came here less often since I’d starting seeing dead people. I’d been carrying around a niggling fear that going near a graveyard—any graveyard—just wasn’t a good idea for a girl in my position.

  But I was glad I hadn’t let fear rule me, for there were no lost or unhappy spirits under these oaks. Time had worked its magic here in the quiet woods, granting peace to those who lay beneath these headstones.

  The air was crisp, dead leaves crunching under my feet. The only sound was my own footsteps and a birdcall, high in the mostly bare limbs of the trees. I wound my way past the oldest headstones, feeling comfortable enough to rest my hand on one whenever I needed to. In the nine years I’d been coming here, the stones had begun to feel like old friends.

  When I got to Mom’s stone I patted it in greeting, then did the same to Dad’s, lingering in between them as I would’ve done in life. “Hi, Mom and Dad. I guess you’re wondering where I’ve been.”

  I always talked with them as though they were there, because, well…they were. “Christmas is coming up, and I really miss you guys.” The bird trilled again, joyously. “You’ll never believe it, but Evan’s engaged. Butch is a great guy—you would’ve liked him. The store’s doing well, and I’m still seeing Joe, the guy I told you about last year.”

  For the next few minutes, I caught them up in bits and spurts, relishing the quiet and grateful to the bird who kept me company. “I think he’s the one, Mom,” I whispered, near the end. “I wish you two could’ve met him.”

  And then I cried, just a little, before rising and brushing dead leaves from my jeans. I patted the stones in farewell, then headed for the Cruiser.