A Killer for Christmas

A NOVEL

Kim Harrington

To Dad, who sparked my love of reading.

I miss you every day.

You would have loved this one.

Chapter One

By the time I started to question if I was making a mistake, it was too late. Christmasville was one mile away—and I had spectacularly blown my life up into pieces. There was no going back.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I pushed down my rising anxiety. I was glad I’d filled up the tank when I got off I-95 because I hadn’t passed a gas station since. The GPS led me down winding roads lined by the deep woods of Maine. I cracked the car window and inhaled the scents of balsam and pine. The stars were brighter up here. The crisp November air, a bolstering hit of pure oxygen.

When I was young, the seemingly endless ride to the middle of nowhere with my family was part of the charm. It truly felt like we were heading to the North Pole. The happiest place in the world. Except now—as an adult—I needed escape. The kind of total joyful immersion therapy that only a place like Christmasville could supply.

A month ago, after I … did what I did … I slunk home to my overpriced Boston apartment to find notice that the already obscene rent was going up—again. Wonderful! I was suddenly unemployed, single, and poor! Later that night while searching through the meager job postings relevant to my experience, one made my breath catch in my throat. The town of Christmasville, Maine, needed a social media manager. The pay was a step down from my agency job, but the rent would be too. And I could live in Christmasville! Growing up, my parents took my brother and me there on vacation several times. Most times in winter but even once in July. Because Christmasville’s motto was “Where holiday cheer lasts all year long!”

Every day we’d spent in Christmasville was a happy one. So I knew, deep in my heart, that was where I needed to go. Maybe not for forever. But it felt like the right move now. The cozy town would make for a cheerful setting for my life reset. Who knew, maybe even open a door to a rebound romance—or two—to bring my confidence back up from the sewer it was currently residing in. It would be like my own personal made-for-television Christmas movie—with a title like A True Love for Christmas or A Dream Romance for Christmas. Starring … me.

My only hope was that the town hadn’t changed too much. I was a teenager the last time I’d visited with my family. Of course, it wasn’t going to seem the same over ten years later as it was in my childhood memories. But if even a fraction of that Christmasville enchantment remained, it would be enough.

The road widened, and a few houses started to dot the landscape between tall pines. Almost there. The GPS announced a right onto Main Street in a quarter mile. I took that turn, and the dark woods opened up into bright holiday magic.

The downtown itself was small with brightly painted buildings situated close together. A light dusting of snow rested on tree branches. People held mittened hands walking down cleared sidewalks. String lights adorned every tree and telephone pole. Elaborate window displays decorated the front of every quaint shop on Main Street. I let out a dreamy sigh. It was just as I remembered. It hadn’t changed at all.

I took a right off of Main Street and headed down the quiet side road to my hotel. I’d never stayed at the Christmas Creek Inn before. When my family used to come here, we were pretty loyal to the Christmas Tree Farm Inn. Except for the time they were all booked, and we had to stay at the Christmasville Inn. Not to be confused with The Inn at Christmasville, which was across the street.

Since I’d be living in a hotel for the time being and didn’t need my furniture yet, I’d left most of my belongings in a storage facility. I could arrange to have my things moved here after I fully settled into my new town.

My new town. It was like a dream. Literally. Growing up in my boring small town in central Massachusetts, my dream was to move here when I grew up. I thought it would be like Christmas every day. Then I went to college and got big city dreams instead. Those were good years too, for a while. Until everything fell apart. But maybe this life detour was meant to lead me back here.

I put the car in park and popped the trunk. I only had two suitcases and my laptop bag for now. The Christmas Creek Inn was a beautiful three-story Tudor style building outlined with elegant white lights. I wheeled my luggage toward a family roasting marshmallows around a stone firepit, all outfitted in puffy coats and sporting red-tipped noses.

“Merry Christmas!” the littlest one called out to me.

It was only November, not even Thanksgiving yet. But the spirit of that day lived in everyone in this town. How could you be here and not be happy?

“And merry Christmas to you too!” I called back. The girl giggled, and her parents waved.

My heart felt light. It was as if time had frozen the town in sugar-dusted perfection.

Only one thing disturbed the picture-perfect atmosphere.

A piece of paper, curled at the edges and marked with smudges, skittered across the ground, carried by a light breeze. I stopped to pick it up, thinking it might be a flyer for the Christmas tree lighting or one of the other upcoming events. Instead, I frowned.

There was a crudely drawn Santa leering from the center of the page. His eyes were uneven black ovals, and his beard looked more like tangled barbed wire. In one gloved hand, he held a large knife, pointed downward in a threatening angle. Above his head, in a speech bubble scrawled with red marker, were the words “SANTA’S GONNA GET YOU.”

“Well, that’s not exactly family-friendly,” I muttered to myself.

I crumpled the paper in my hand and tossed it into the firepit. It was nothing, I thought. The scribblings of a bored kid on vacation with his parents. But as the paper blackened and dissolved in the flames, something prickled at the back of my neck.

I followed the stone pavers up to the inn, pausing to admire the fresh wreath on the front door, and headed inside. The lobby felt like a warm and cozy living room. A family snuggled close on the sofa by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa as the logs crackled. A huge balsam fir stood in the corner trimmed with silver garland and colored lights.

I made my way to the reception area, which displayed a glass bowl full of cinnamon-scented pinecones. The woman behind the desk was on the phone and typing on a laptop. Based on the smile lines around her mouth and her dark-brown bob streaked with just a few strands of gray, I guessed she was in her early fifties. By her sweater, which featured a pug and the words “Santa Paws,” I assumed she was young at heart.

She hung up the phone and gave me an enthusiastic smile. “Whoa! I almost didn’t see you down there.”

A short joke. I tried not to let my smile falter. But after puberty came and went and left me at five foot one, I’d heard it all. And I was over it. Still, she seemed nice enough, so I grinned and nodded. Yes, I’m short. Ha ha.

“Sorry about the wait,” the woman continued. “Welcome to the Christmas Creek Inn! Do you have a reservation?”

A strand of my long brown hair had come loose from my ponytail, and I tucked it behind my ear. “Yes, Kelsey Hendricks.”

After a few clicks and clacks on the keyboard, she said, “Here we are. You’re on the second floor. Our events are finished for today. But tomorrow, we have cookie decorating at one. Santa comes for a meet and greet at three. The rest of the schedule is in our weekly events calendar that’s included in your welcome packet.”

I hiked my laptop bag up on my shoulder. “Oh, I’m not a tourist. I’m here for a job.”

Her brow furrowed. “We don’t have any openings right now.”

I shook my head. “No, sorry. I’m working for the town. The new social media manager?” I hated that it came out sounding like a question.

But her face lit up. “Oh! Yes, Mayor Carol told me that you’d be staying with us indefinitely until you settle in and find a place of your own. I have it marked in the notes of your reservation. I’m sorry. Just a bit flustered today.”

“You’re not the only one,” I said with a smile that she matched.

“So, you have one of our few suites, which means a small living room and kitchenette along with your bedroom. Nothing fancy, no oven. But a good-sized fridge and microwave.”

“It sounds lovely,” I said. I hadn’t exactly been a big cook back in Boston. I mostly used my oven for storage. “Are there any restaurants on site?”

“No, but there are plenty within walking distance. And we do offer a complimentary continental breakfast each morning. Muffins, pastries, and the like.”

“That’s perfect. Thank you.”

She held a hand out across the desk. “I’m Grace Dorsey, owner of the Christmas Creek Inn. Since it seems like you’ll be staying with us for a while, please come find me if there’s anything I can do to help you settle into our happy little town.”

“Thank you so much, Grace,” I said, shaking her hand. “It’s great to meet you.”

She gazed around the living room with a frown. “Now, if only you could meet my sixteen-year-old son who is supposed to be here to help with your bags.”

I waved my hand dismissively. “That’s fine. I can manage.”

“Two suitcases and no elevator? Nonsense.” She called out to a plump elderly man who was working his way across the room. “Jack! Where’s Rudy?”

He aimed a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw him doing his homework at the kitchen table.”

She sighed. “If that’s the case, I don’t want to interrupt him. You know how they say to never wake a sleeping baby? You should also never stop a teen actually doing his homework.”

“That’s a good tip,” I said.

“But Jack’s back isn’t what it used to be, so I don’t want to ask him for help. He’s our resident handyman.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And our on-site Santa, but that’s between you, me, and the wall right behind me.”

I chuckled. This could be the sweetest woman I’d ever met. “We’ll just have to handle it ourselves.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Strong women getting it done.”

It was only two suitcases, not a slab of quartz, but I didn’t want to damper her enthusiasm. We made our way up the creaky stairs and down the carpeted hallway.

“This is you,” she said, stopping by a door with a cute wreath with a red velvet bow. “Room twelve.”

I pulled out the keycard she’d given me and unlocked the door. The first thing I noticed was the unmade bed.

“Well, that’s strange,” she said. “I could have sworn this room had been cleaned already.”

She pulled a walkie-talkie off of her belt and switched it on. “Angelica, come in.”

A moment later, a voice cut through the static. “Hi, Grace. What’s up?”

“Why is room twelve not cleaned yet?”

“Let me check.” A sound like paper crinkling went on for a long moment.

I put my bags down and gave myself a mini tour. The kitchen was truly tiny, but I wouldn’t use it much anyway. The television on top of the dresser was big enough. I moved toward the bathroom.

The walkie-talkie burst back to life. “Mr. Sudbeck hasn’t checked out yet. That’s why I didn’t get to that room.”

“Thanks, Angelica.” Grace reattached the walkie to her belt and sighed. “I’m sorry. I was so busy today and didn’t follow up to make sure he’d checked out like he was supposed to.”

“It happens,” I said with a shrug.

“We do have another vacant suite I can move you to. Same as this one. Just down the hall.”

“Sounds good,” I answered. My back was beginning to ache from the long drive, and I wondered if the bathtubs were jetted. On my way out of the room, I decided to poke my head into the bathroom to take a peek—

And I let out a scream.

The crumpled body of an older man lay naked in the dry tub.

Grace came to my side and gasped. “That’s why he never checked out.”

Chapter Two

I huddled in the crowded hallway, surrounded by my bags and inn employees while the police and EMTs attended to the man in the tub. Though, from the bluish-gray color of his skin, I knew there wasn’t much to attend to. I still couldn’t believe I’d seen a dead person. I stood in shock while employees around me chatted.

“Should we show the guest to her suite?” someone whispered.

“No. The sheriff wanted us all to stay here for a bit,” Grace said, then added. “Plus, she’s not a guest. She’s one of us. Just waiting to settle into her new job and find a place of her own.”

One of us. It was sweet of her to say. But I’d barely been in town an hour, and it certainly didn’t feel like home yet. I offered a polite smile.

“Oh, well then, welcome to town,” the woman said. “I’m Angelica. Like a Christmas angel.”

Ah, the housekeeper Grace had spoken to on the walkie. Angelica was about my age. Her sharp features were softened by the most beautiful head of long, flowing brown curls. She reminded me of a mermaid.

The teen boy with sandy blond hair and ruddy cheeks that I’d quickly figured out was Grace’s son said, “I’m Rudy. Short for Rudolph. But I’ll be legally changing my name when I turn eighteen.”

“You will not,” Grace snapped.

“Watch me, Ma!”

Grace pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “Now’s not the time for this.”

My last hallway buddy piped up. “And I’m Jack.”

The handyman from the lobby. And, finally, a regular name.

He added, “Like Jack Frost.”

Of course.

A silence fell over the group, and I realized they were waiting for me.

“Oh, I’m Kelsey,” I said. “Just … Kelsey.”

The door to the suite opened, and the EMTs filed out with their equipment. As predicted, there was no one to save. The door closed again behind them, only the police left behind.

“I wonder what happened to him,” Jack said.

“Given his age, probably a heart attack,” Grace said solemnly. “Or a stroke.”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” Rudy said under his breath.

Grace pointed at her son. “Don’t start.”

He held his hands up. “What? He was super rude to everyone. And he said something inappropriate to Angelica.”

“He did,” Angelica said, color rising to her cheeks.

“Well, that’s true,” Grace conceded. “But we still don’t speak ill of the dead. That’s also rude.”

The door opened and two police officers joined us in the hallway. A quite handsome younger black man in uniform stood beside an older white man who actually looked like Santa. He had the belly, the beard, and the red nose. But instead of a Santa suit, he wore jeans, a brown barn jacket, and a badge.

He looked directly at me. “I’m Sheriff Kris Whitman. And yes, before you ask, it is Kris for Kringle.” He pointed at the younger officer. “This is Officer Nick Coleman. Nick as in Saint.”

This was truly going to take some getting used to, I thought.

“Kelsey Hendricks,” I said with a nod.

“Nice to meet you,” Nick replied. His uniform was taut enough to show he was built but not beefy—the Goldilocks of male bods. Unfortunately, he also wore a silver wedding band. Damn.

Sheriff Kris clasped his hands on top of his protruding belly. “The hotel guest seems to have had a fall in the shower and broken his neck.”

Grace covered her mouth and shook her head. “Terrible.”

“Was he staying here with anyone?” Kris asked.

Grace said, “No, he was alone. He checked in two days ago and was due to leave today.”

The sheriff raised his wiry eyebrows. “A tourist alone?”

“He was here on business,” Rudy said. “A traveling salesman.”

“What was he selling?” Nick asked.

“Bad attitudes, apparently,” Rudy quipped.

Grace groaned. “Rudy, please.”

The sheriff turned his attention to the housekeeper. “What time did you last enter the room?”

Angelica twirled a strand of hair around her finger as she thought. “I cleaned it yesterday and there was certainly no body in the tub. Then I returned today around one PM for a turnover.”

“Turnover?” Kris repeated.

“A deeper clean after a guest checks out and a new guest is about to check in,” she explained. “But as soon as I opened the door, I saw that his luggage was still in the room. So, I just went right back out. I figured maybe he had asked for a late check out or something. I was going to check with Grace on it, but I hadn’t had the chance yet.”

“So even though it’s after dinner now, you still hadn’t returned to the room?” Kris asked.

Angelica’s cheeks flushed. “I have twenty rooms to do all by myself today. It’s a lot of work.”

“That’s my fault,” Grace interrupted. “We’re short-staffed right now.”

Kris nodded, then lowered his voice. “We’re going to need all of you to keep this to yourselves until we can reach his next of kin. Grace, I assume you can provide me with his home address and contact details from the reservation?”

“Of course,” Grace said quickly. “Whatever you need.”

The sheriff dismissed everyone, reminding us again to keep this to ourselves for now. After I’d already started dragging my luggage down the hall, following Grace to my new corpse-less suite, a thought occurred to me. Should I have told the sheriff about the flyer I’d found outside on the sidewalk? Murder Santa was creepy and threatening.

But the old man had fallen in the shower. Even if he was on the naughty list, you couldn’t really blame Santa for that.

And it was only a drawing.

And I’d burned it.

Oh well.

After Grace confirmed that my new suite was indeed unoccupied, I took some time to settle in and unpack. After that gruesome encounter, I needed to relax. I’d lost my desire for a bath, so instead I eased under the covers and reached for my phone. The inn’s Wi-Fi password was “jolly,” so I typed that in and started scrolling.

My heart cinched in my chest. My ex-boyfriend, Trent, had put up his first post since our explosive breakup. My mouth turned down as I took in every detail. He was at a bar with his friends, beer glasses held high. He looked happy. I knew more than anyone how fake social media could be, but that was his true smile. He seemed delighted to be single again.

I unfollowed him. Petty, maybe. But I had to guard my heart. I had to heal, and seeing him move on with his life like nothing had happened only hurt me all over again.

A text from my mother popped up, dragging my attention away. My parents were in the middle of a four-month cruise. Retirement sure seemed nice! I hadn’t yet told them about my life changes, but I’d told my brother, Shawn. He’d reached out and invited me to come visit him in New York next week for Thanksgiving, so I had to tell him the truth. That I was moving to Maine and starting a new job, so it wasn’t a great time to travel. It was only a matter of time before he tattled to my folks. I opened my texts.

Mom: Shawn said you’re moving to Christmasville!!!

And there it was. The little narc.

Me: Yes, I moved today.

Mom: Are you on the drugs?

Me: No, Mom. I am not on “the drugs.”

Mom: Why would you want to leave that great job in Boston? And you said Trent would probably be proposing soon!

Oof, that one hurt.

Me: That is a long story that will have to wait until you get home for Christmas. In fact, we could spend Christmas here, if you’d like. Just like the old days.

I waited for her next message, hoping my attempt to appeal to her sense of nostalgia had eased her worries.

Mom: Are you okay?

Apparently, it hadn’t.

Me: I’m good, Mom. I promise. You know I’ve always been happy here.

Mom: Yeah, when you were ten and not on the drugs.

I chuckled.

Me: Love you, Mom.

Mom: Love you too, sweetheart. Daddy says hi.

I thought about what to do next. I could channel surf and maybe find a Christmas romance movie. Or I could read the mystery novel I’d brought with me. My brother always teased me about my two main hobbies. Back when we’d lived under the same roof, if I was going to watch or read something, he’d ask, “Is it about Christmas or murder because it’s always one or the other with you.” I smiled at the memory.

But I only got a few pages into the book before my eyes started to close, the exhaustion of the day taking hold. Part of me still couldn’t believe I’d done it. I’d moved to Christmasville. The first night certainly wasn’t all sugar cookies and glitter. Finding a dead body and meeting the local police had not been on my day-one agenda. But that should be the end of the drama. From now on, no darkness. Only Christmas magic and light. I hoped.

I barely slept, tossing and turning all night as the image of the dead man in the tub resurfaced unbidden again and again. I think I even had a Murder Santa nightmare somewhere in there too. But I couldn’t sleep in. It was my first day of work. I dragged my tired butt into the shower, making the water cooler than I would have liked to help wake me up. Then I put on a touch of makeup, just enough to make my hazel eyes pop, and blow-dried my hair.

My favorite black work pants were a little loose. In all of my life upheaval, I’d lost a few pounds and gotten a tad too skinny. But I was sure Christmasville’s bakery and sweets shop would fix that right quick. A deep-red blouse rounded out my first-day look. With one last nod in the mirror, I headed downstairs for a cup of life-saving coffee.

For a Monday morning, the lobby was surprisingly bustling. I beelined it for the breakfast table and filled a mug. The aroma of coffee alone was helping to wake me up already. A long buffet table with a red plaid tablecloth offered muffins, bagels, Danishes, and single-serve boxes of cereal. I selected a cranberry muffin and headed to the dining area. The small room was nearly full, but I found an empty table for two in the corner and sat down.

A moment later, someone came to my side. His tightly cropped blond hair offset his dark eyes. And, unlike all the other jeans and sweater–wearing tourists, he wore an expertly tailored suit.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “It’s the only seat available, and I have to eat quickly before a business meeting.”

“Of course,” I said, motioning to the empty chair and hoping there weren’t any cranberries stuck in my teeth.

“Aaron Chambers,” he said, but he didn’t offer his hand. It was too busy quickly buttering a bagel.

“Kelsey Hendricks.”

He stared at me for a moment with those dark eyes, like he was trying to figure something out. “Are you a guest at the hotel?”

“Yes,” I said, dabbing my mouth with a napkin. “I start a job today here in town, but it all happened kind of fast. So I’m staying here until I settle in and find a place of my own.”

“Where are you working?” he asked with what sounded like true interest.

“At the town hall. I’m the town’s new social media manager.”

He nodded. “They definitely need one of those. Their Instagram account looks like it’s been managed by someone’s great-grandma.”

I covered my mouth to hold back a laugh. I’d noticed that myself but didn’t want to bad-mouth my predecessor.

Aaron chewed through a bite, then pointed at me. “I knew you weren’t from here.”

“Why? Because my name isn’t Merry McHollycakes?”

He chuckled lightly. “No. It’s because you don’t quite fit in. You’re too … urbane.”

Which meant he thought the rest of the people in Christmasville were unrefined hicks. I felt strangely defensive of them. “Isn’t that a bit snobby? I’ve found the people in Christmasville to be delightful and kind.”

“Of course. They are. I just think you … stand out.”

Though I had mixed feelings, I wasn’t about to argue with someone trying to compliment me. Especially not someone who looked like Aaron.

“Do you know why the police were here last night?” he asked. “I was in the lobby and watched them go upstairs.”

I swallowed a chunk of muffin that suddenly felt like lead. “A guest passed away, unfortunately. He slipped in the tub.”

His dark eyes widened in surprise. “Ouch.”

I thought about telling him that I was the one who’d found the man. But I’d been trying hard all morning to get that visual out of my head and focus on my first day at the new job. Besides it wasn’t great breakfast conversation. I’d much rather find out what Aaron was doing in town.

But before I could ask, he glanced at his steel watch and groaned. “I’m going to be late. I have to go.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I said.

He gave me a smile so slow and warm, it could melt butter. “Likewise. Maybe we can share another meal together sometime.”

Then, before I could even consider answering, he turned on his heel and left.

I sat, stunned and bewildered. Had he just asked me out on a date? A vague date? Was there a suggestion of a date? Maybe this would end up being my real-life Christmas romance movie after all.

The man in the bathtub resurfaced in my mind. I didn’t know why it was bothering me so much. He hadn’t been gruesomely killed like in one of the novels I read. He’d had an accident. Accidents happen every day. But still, as I stared down at the last bite of my muffin, my stomach turned.

Chapter Three

One of the things that made Christmasville so cozy was that everything downtown was so walkable. Main Street was the heart of town. A few side roads branched off to the west. On the east, behind the Main Street buildings, was the creek path, a winding paved trail that followed adjacent to a beautiful brook, which ended at the ice skating pond.

To get to work from the inn, I only had to stroll down one side street, take a right onto Main, and the town hall was a block away. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue. The cold was jarring enough to push out any thoughts of the man in the bathtub, yet the sun still warmed my face. Back in the city, patches of black ice, random pieces of trash, and morning drunks had dotted my commute. But here, I only had to dodge happy couples and smiling faces on my way to work.

Seeing Main Street in the daylight brought back a rush of memories. The cute stores and scrumptious restaurants. The tinny Christmas music and over-the-top decor inside each building. I loved it then, and I loved it still.

I’d looked forward to our trips to Christmasville at every age. When I was little and believed Santa was real, I thought it was the actual North Pole. But even as I got older, it was still a fun place to be. I remembered snowball fights with Shawn, racing down the sledding hills, skating on the pond, and watching the Christmas parade. There was always something fun to do. And sometimes I really needed it.

Especially in eighth grade, a particularly hard year because Clara MacDonald decided to hate me for fun, and every other kid in school fell in line out of fear that they’d be next. The bullying was relentless, and I spent much of my time crying, holed up in my room, and scared to go to school. Though my parents suspected something was going on, I never told them because I worried they’d get involved and make things worse.

Then we came to Christmasville over winter break. Those few days with my family reminded me that happiness still existed for me somewhere. Despite everything going on back at school, I could have fun and feel the warmth of Christmasville’s pure goodness. Over mugs of hot cocoa at a cookie decorating class, I even confided in my brother about my troubles with Clara. And, strangely enough, when we returned to town, she stopped her campaign of hatred. My brother never said anything, but I’d guessed he’d had a stern talk with her older brother who was in Shawn’s grade. Either that, or it was a Christmasville miracle.

Christmasville helped me heal then, and I was hoping it would help me heal now.

Memories like those always kept my love for the town in my heart. I’d missed it and still felt drawn to it, even as an adult. The nostalgia always tugged at me, especially during the holidays.

I’d actually asked Trent to go to Christmasville with me last year, thinking it would be romantic, and he’d laughed in my face. Not out of cruelty. He truly thought I was joking. So we went to Vegas—his choice. I never could have predicted that a year later, I’d be living in Christmasville. My childhood dream come true.

My footsteps slowed as I approached the town hall. It was a beautiful old brick building with a clock tower and a wreath on every window. I pulled open the heavy front door and walked inside on creaky hardwood floors. Winter sunshine poured through the windows, brightening the lobby and casting a glow on the tall Christmas tree that dominated the center of the room.

Two older women were talking animatedly by the front desk. One had short, tight corkscrew curls and wore casual pants and a red and white striped sweater that made her look like a candy cane. The other wore a perfectly tailored forest-green suit. Her mid-length bob with a tasteful amount of gray mixed in with caramel highlights was perfectly coiffed. At my arrival, they cut off their conversation.

The woman in the suit smiled widely. “And there she is! Kelsey, right?”

“That’s me!” I said, hoping to hit the right note somewhere between gracious and enthusiastic.

She stepped toward me, tall and stately, and reached a hand out. “I’m Mayor Carol. Like Christmas carol. It would probably be more professional for me to go by my last name, but Mayor Meyer doesn’t have that Christmas flair. You’ve probably noticed a lot of us townies have holiday-themed first names, and we’re proud to show them off.”

“I have noticed the custom, yes,” I said, giving her well-manicured hand a strong shake.

The human candy cane stepped forward. “I’m the assistant here at the town hall. My name’s Mary.”

My eyebrows rose. “Wow, that name’s a bit on the nose, eh?”

She frowned. “Not on purpose. I wasn’t born here.”

“Oh …”

Carol cleared her throat. “Let me show you to your office.”

“Thank you.” I turned to Mary. “Nice to meet you.”

She didn’t respond.

“Don’t worry about her,” Carol whispered as we walked down the main hall. “She’s a bit of a curmudgeon. Which isn’t great in a town like this, and I remind her of that every year during her performance review.”

We passed offices for the Department of Public Works, the tax collector, and the mayor. A small, dark room was next.

“This is you,” Carol said, flipping the switch. “It’s small, but there’s a little window. And you’re free to dress it up with decorations, of course.”

It was actually a step up from the cubicle I had at my last job. The ad agency where I worked had us sitting row after row like a rat’s maze with barely any privacy. Having an office all to myself, no matter how small, seemed like a luxury.

Carol leaned over the desk and tapped her fingernails on a thick folder. “In here, you’ll find a whole lot of HR paperwork, unfortunately, that needs to be filled out ASAP.”

“Of course,” I said, setting my messenger bag on the floor.

“I also included all the info you’ll need to access each of our social media accounts. You can get started right away. You don’t need to get my preapproval or anything before posting. I’ve been running the accounts myself, and I’m not a professional.”

That explained the amateur vibe. I almost couldn’t wait to get started. This town was a smorgasbord of great photo opportunities.

Carol traced her finger along the top of a filing cabinet and inspected it for dust. “I expect one to two posts per day on Facebook and Instagram. We haven’t yet expanded to other platforms, but I’m open to it. Keep our event calendar up to date on the website and add one long-form blog post per week. You’ll also have to manage the occasional live stream when we have an event. And you’re responsible for moderating comments and replying to any questions or concerns beneath our posts. I’d also like to see a proposal on how you’ll increase our follower count.”

“I’ll have that on your desk tomorrow,” I said.

“Wonderful.” She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “What’s your opinion of so-called … influencers?”

I felt like a boulder had lodged in my throat. I had a very strong opinion of one in particular, but I held nothing against the vocation as a whole.

Carol continued, “I only ask because I don’t know if they’re worth the money. What are your thoughts?”

I coughed into my hand. “Influencer marketing is definitely growing, especially in the travel niche. But you have to be careful who you choose because they will be speaking for your brand.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I contracted with one, mainly because the price was right. Just the free trip and a small stipend. We’ll see how this one goes and take it from there.”

“Sounds like a smart plan,” I said. There were actually influencers that I thought would be a great match for Christmasville. Not the usual young, amazing, perfect body travel ones. But a few from the family lifestyle mommy blogger world. But that would be for another day.

A gruff voice called out from the hall. “Mayor, could I have a word?”

Carol’s expression morphed into something like worry, but she plastered on a fake smile for me. “I have to go, but I’ll check in with you later. Welcome to Christmasville. I think you’re going to love it here.”

I opened my folder of HR paperwork, but curiosity tugged at me. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. I rose from my seat and edged toward the open office door. Trying to be as inconspicuous as I could, I poked my head just a bit into the hallway.

Mayor Carol and Sheriff Kris stood close together, murmuring in hushed voices. Neither one of them looked happy. In fact, Carol looked outright concerned.

A few hours later, Carol strolled into my office. “Hungry for lunch?”

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Usually by now my stomach would be making velociraptor noises, but I hadn’t even noticed the time. I’d already finished the HR paperwork, gained access to each of the accounts, and began brainstorming my first post for today. It was a good time for a break.

“Absolutely!” I said, rising from my seat. “What did you have in mind?”

“My favorite. Holly’s Bakery. Most people go for breakfast, but I’m obsessed with her sandwiches and soups at lunchtime.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mary won’t be joining. I brought her once and all she did was complain. Plus, she brown bags it every day.”

“Well, it sounds amazing to me.” I grabbed my purse. “I really want to get to know all the local establishments.”

Carol seemed happy with this. “Holly’s would be a great place to feature, if you’re looking for somewhere to start.”

Like everything else in town, it wasn’t too far of a walk. Carol walked beside me, her gloved hands tucked into her coat pockets. I couldn’t help but replay the way she’d looked while speaking with the sheriff—tense and worried.

“I noticed you speaking with the sheriff earlier,” I said, keeping my tone casual but curious. I hoped she didn’t think I was being too nosy. “Is everything okay?”

Carol offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, yes, it’s nothing serious. Just some graffiti. I reported it last week. The Department of Public Works painted over it, thankfully, but I wanted to know if the police had any updates on the vandal.”

My thoughts jumped to the creepy Murder Santa drawing I’d found. “What kind of graffiti was it?”

Carol hesitated for a second, then glanced ahead. “Here we are!” she said brightly, stopping in front of Holly’s Bakery as if she’d been rescued by the storefront itself.

I followed her gaze. The bakery window glowed with warm light, and inside, a display of treats looked like something out of a Christmas dream—lemon squares dusted with powdered sugar like fresh snow, glossy raspberry bars cut into perfect rectangles, and rows of meticulously decorated Santa cookies grinning beneath thick swirls of icing. I instinctively reached for my phone and snapped a quick photo.

Inside, the bakery had an adorable café vibe. Long glass cases displayed pastries, desserts, and sandwiches. The dining area was dotted with small glass-top tables and white wrought-iron chairs with red cushions. Unfortunately, most of the tables were full.

After we placed our orders at the register, we headed toward a table by the window, but it was snatched up by a tall, lean man in a flannel button-down and well-fitting jeans. He looked like he just stepped out of the L.L.Bean catalog.

“Oh, Carol, were you going to sit here?” he asked, noticing us standing beside our stolen table. “Feel free to join me.”

All that and polite.

“That’s kind of you, Ellison,” Carol said, taking an empty seat and motioning for me to do the same. “Please meet the town’s newest employee.”

“Kelsey Hendricks,” I said, sliding into the chair next to him. “Social media manager.”

“Good to meet you. I’m Ellison Shaw, owner of Snow Village Books.” He pointed out the window. “Right across the street.”

I followed his finger and spotted the charming shop tucked beneath a painted awning. “Fantastic. I’m a big reader. I’ll have to hop in and stock up.”

“I hope you do,” he said, with a warm smile that crinkled at the corners of his piercing blue eyes.

I didn’t know if he was flirting or just had good business sense, but I smiled anyway. Up close, he was even more distractingly attractive—short-cropped brown hair, a dusting of stubble on a strong jaw, and those ridiculously blue eyes that made it hard to look away. The kind of eyes that could make a girl forget her coffee order. Or her name.

He opened the paper-wrapped sandwich. “Do you ladies mind if I get started before your meals come?”

“By all means,” Carol said. “Who’s manning the store while you’re gone?”

He chewed through a bite, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I hired some help for the busy season. Do you know Alma? She retired from the library last year.”

“Of course,” Carol said. “She and her lovely wife run the monthly bingo night at the senior center.”

He took a sip of soda and nodded. “Turns out she’s bored in retirement and missed being surrounded by books.”

Carol’s lips curved in a sly smile. “At her age, she can’t be much help unloading those big delivery boxes.”

“Well, no,” Ellison admitted. “She can’t help with the stock. But she can work the register and chat up any customer who comes in. Nice lady. She’s always been one of my best customers.”

“You’re one of the good ones, Ellison Shaw,” Carol said, reading my mind.

“Who, that doofus?” a woman said, over my shoulder. She placed our drinks and sandwiches on the table, then swept her tray under her arm. She had golden-brown skin and a high ponytail that held back her long black hair. Her curves were hugged by a red apron that said “Baking Spirits Bright.”

Carol giggled. “Kelsey, meet Holly Coleman, the owner of this lovely establishment.”

“Holly Hernandez,” she corrected.

“Forgive me,” Carol said. “I forgot you kept your maiden name.”

“No problem. My mother-in-law still isn’t used to the idea either.”

Carol snorted. “Kelsey is the town’s newest employee. If you’re nice, maybe she’ll even post pics of the bakery on our socials today.”

“In that case, I’m sitting down and joining you for my break.” Holly took the last empty chair, her ponytail swinging as she settled in.

“How’s business?” she asked Ellison.

“Can’t complain,” he said. “Though I’d like to complain about this sandwich.”

Holly rolled her eyes. “You wish you could, but you can’t find fault with perfection.”

After taking the first bite of my tuna melt, I had to agree. This was the best sandwich I’d had in ages.

Carol turned to me to explain. “Ellison is best friends with Holly’s husband, so they tease each other now and then. All in fun.”

“Nah, we hate each other,” Holly said with a good-natured grin.

The front door opened beside us, and a waft of cool air came in with a new customer. Aaron from breakfast locked eyes with me and my stomach did a little flip. The rest of my tablemates, however, seemed to react differently. Their smiles deflated and morphed into immediate scowls.

“You again,” he said to me with a glint in his eye.

Holly’s eyes snapped to mine. “You know this chump?”

“Uh, we met at breakfast this morning,” I explained, confused by her sudden hostility. “At the Christmas Creek Inn.”

Holly folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, so now you’re staying at the Christmas Creek. Did the Holly Jolly Inn throw you out?”

Aaron took a deep breath and stayed calm. “I’m staying a few nights at several establishments to get a taste of the local—”

Holly cut him off. “Whatever, Mr. Wall Street.”

“I’m not a stockbroker. I’m a hotel manager.” He kept his voice low, like he didn’t want a scene.

Holly, however, didn’t mind. “Okay, corporate guy, then.”

“It’s a family-owned business,” Aaron said flatly.

Ellison muttered, “Yeah, of thirty-four hotels.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes at him. “Our success doesn’t make us bad.”

“No, just a bad fit for Christmasville,” Holly said. “We are the home of holiday-themed independent businesses. This is no place for an impersonal, generic hotel chain that you could find off any highway.”

“It won’t be generic. We will—”

She put a hand up. “Don’t want to hear it, Suit Man.”

He sighed, turned on the heel of his designer loafers, and left the bakery. Poor dude didn’t even get to grab a sandwich.

“That was kind of mean,” I said.

Ellison shrugged. “I don’t know. Suit Man has a nice ring to it. And why does he wear suits all the time? Is he in the world’s longest business meeting?”

“He probably just wants to appear professional,” I said, though I didn’t know why I was defending him. I barely knew him.

Holly gave me a look. “You’re just sticking up for him because he’s a fine-looking man.”

Welp, she may have had me there. Between Ellison and Aaron, this town was like a hot guy buffet.

Carol spoke up. “As you may have been able to put together from that embarrassing scene, Mr. Chambers is in town to determine if a land buy in Christmasville is the right move for his family’s chain of hotels. And you, Mr. Shaw and Ms. Hernandez, should be ashamed of the way you treated him. Everyone in the café overheard that, and it may taint their feelings about the supposed friendly magic we have in Christmasville.”

“Sorry, Mayor,” Ellison said, properly chastised.

“Oh, Carol,” Holly said with a sigh. “You know how protective I get of this town. And I feel like he’s bad news.”

Carol fiddled with her coffee cup. “You know, a big hotel could bring even more people to town.”

I thought about the Christmas Creek Inn and Grace, the sweet owner. “Or it could bankrupt the small inns that give Christmasville its charm.”

“See?” Holly pointed a finger at me. “New Girl gets it.”

Carol nodded along like she’d heard this argument a thousand times before. “Well, we don’t even know if they’ve decided to buy or not.”

In an awkward attempt to change the subject, Ellison turned to me and asked, “So, how are you liking the Christmas Creek Inn?”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” I said. “Though I’ve only been there one night so far.”

Holly gasped like she’d just realized something. “You’re the woman who found the body!”

“What?” Ellison said. “What body?”

Carol waved her hand dismissively. “An older gentleman passed away at the inn.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “We’re not really supposed to be talking about it. The sheriff wants to notify the next of kin first.”

“Is that what Kris said?” Holly snorted. “Oh, don’t worry. I already heard it all from my husband. He was the officer on duty with the sheriff.”

I connected the dots and realized her husband was Officer Hot Bod—um, Nick.

“Who was the man who died?” Ellison asked.

Holly huffed. “A rude bastard, if you ask me.”

Carol gasped. “Holly!”

“What?” She put her hands up. “He ate his entire sandwich before he came up to complain and ask for his money back. He was running that kind of scam all over town. Rude to everyone he came in contact with.”

“Still, we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead,” Carol admonished.

Holly rolled her eyes. “Why even come to Christmasville if you’re a grinch?”

“He wasn’t a tourist,” Carol said. “He was a salesman here on business.”

I tilted my head to the side. “How do you know?”

“The sheriff keeps me up to date on any possible controversies in town so I can head off small issues before they turn into real problems. This man was in town attempting to sell reservation software to local inns and hotels. He was only here for a couple days when he had his accident.”

“What happened?” Ellison asked.

Holly said, “They’re saying he slipped and broke his neck in the shower.” She leaned toward me and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “But here’s what doesn’t make sense. If he slipped in the shower and died, why wasn’t the water still running when you got there?”

Ellison leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What are you saying?”

Holly raised her perfectly arched eyebrows. “I’m saying that man was murdered.”

Chapter Four

As Carol and I walked back to the town hall, Holly’s words bounced around in my head. They made sense. The water wasn’t running when I’d found the body. If the traveling salesman had really slipped in the shower and broken his neck, why was the water off?

“What do you think of Holly’s theory?” I asked casually.

Carol made a dismissive snort. “Holly is a true-crime addict. Books, TV shows, podcasts. She loves it all. I don’t blame her. You have to get your excitement somewhere. There’s certainly no crime in Christmasville. But it’s clear she’s reaching for something that’s not there.”

I stepped off the curb as we passed a slow-moving family, then stepped back up on the sidewalk. “But it is odd that the water wasn’t running when I found him.”

“There are a million explanations for that,” Carol said.

“Like what?” I asked.

Carol stopped walking and studied me for a moment. Then she counted off on her fingers. “One, when the man fell, the weight of his body forced the faucet handle down. Two, he slipped while he was leaning over to shut the water off. Three, he slipped after he’d shut the water off and was getting out of the tub.”

She had a point. Those were all possible.

“And I really think,” Carol added, her normally cheery voice suddenly serious, “that you need to focus on the positivity of the town and not on anything negative that happens. We need to project a merry image, don’t we?”

I straightened my shoulders. “Of course. I was just curious. But I’m totally refocused on the positive now.” Not that I would have posted crime scene photos.

Carol smiled like I was a child who’d passed a test. “How could you not be?” She raised her arms. “When there’s magic all around?”

The rest of the workday passed uneventfully. I posted a like-worthy photo of Holly’s Bakery and finished my proposal for increasing followers. I emailed it to Carol, then went to poke my head in her office and see if she had any questions. But the lights were off, door closed, at 5:05. I was really, really liking this job. I could count on one hand the times I’d gotten off from work at five o’clock in my last job. With one finger on one hand actually, and it was because my appendix burst.

My ad agency job had been exciting at first. I started as a junior strategist in digital marketing. I met a cute account manager, a couple years older than me, named Trent. That first year was a whirlwind of dates and fun. He introduced me to all of his friends. I earned a promotion to account manager with clients of my own.

When Trent told me about Isabella, his old college friend who was trying to make it big as an influencer, I offered to recommend her to my client. I figured I was doing a good thing for a friend of my boyfriend. But when Isabella got the content creator agreement and we had to meet a few times, things were awkward. She acted unprofessional with me, making snide remarks. Plus she talked about Trent way too much for my liking. She didn’t treat me like a colleague or her friend’s girlfriend. It was like I was the competition. Trent blew off my concerns, saying Isabella was always like that with his girlfriends. He thought she was just being protective of her good friend. When I suggested that perhaps it was because she wanted to be more than friends, he laughed at me and proclaimed their relationship “not that deep.”

But then came the day when I opened the folder Isabella had uploaded her most recent content to, and it wasn’t just photos of her holding the organic soda she’d been contracted to promote. There were photos of her … in bed … with Trent.

After confronting Trent in my office, probably a bit too loudly for the workplace, even with my door closed, I finally got the truth. He and Isabella had been sneaking around behind my back. Trent hadn’t wanted to break up with me. So, she’d apparently uploaded those photos where she knew I’d see them, so I would make the break myself.

My heart shattered. Not only had he cheated and lied, but also my instincts had been correct and he’d gaslit me. I severed ties with him immediately but felt like that wasn’t enough. I wanted out of my company, out of my city. I wanted to be in another world. I couldn’t spend one more day at that job, where I’d have to see his face. I quit on the spot. Thankfully, my manager was sympathetic. She even insinuated that there could be repercussions for Trent and Isabella.

Lots of people go through a breakup and do something drastic—like get bangs or go blonde. I admittedly took things a bit further by quitting my job and uprooting myself to a Christmas-themed tourist town. I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.

I buttoned up my coat and went out into the chilly night air. The winter sun had already set, but twinkle lights draped between lampposts lit up the sidewalk. My first day was finished. I decided to reward myself with a fancy meal. I’d seen a beautiful restaurant on Main Street earlier that had caught my fancy.

I began the short walk, pulling my coat tighter around my ribs. The shops lining the street had decorated window displays, and I gazed at each one while I strolled. But soon, my footsteps faltered as a strange feeling crawled up my neck.

The feeling of being watched.

I glanced behind me and found a happy couple walking together, lost in their own conversation. Across the street, the sidewalk was dotted with people, but no one was conspicuously looking my way. I shook off the feeling and kept walking.

Then, as I passed the alley beside the candle shop, I saw him.

He was half hidden in the narrow gap between two buildings, arms crossed, his silhouette barely illuminated by the lights behind me. His posture wasn’t overtly threatening, but there was something too still about him. Too deliberate. He didn’t pretend to be checking his phone or lighting a cigarette. He was just … watching. The brim of a faded camo-print trucker hat cast a shadow over his eyes, but I knew his gaze was aimed right at me.

I offered him a small, polite smile—the kind strangers exchange when paths cross and there’s no reason for alarm. But he didn’t smile back.

Instead, his mouth curled into a slow, greasy leer.

A chill skated up my spine. I turned my gaze forward and kept walking, faster now, not stopping to look at any more window displays. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was waiting for someone. Maybe I’d read too many mystery novels and watched too many murder shows.

But as I neared the restaurant’s front door, I couldn’t shake the feeling the man had given me. That maybe Christmasville wasn’t perfect after all.

Maybe not everyone here was nice.

Safely inside the Golden Spoon, I took off my coat and let the anxious feeling go. Nothing had happened. A random guy gave me a creepy look. No big deal. That happened every day back in the city. I exhaled and let the vibe of the restaurant calm me.

An elegantly decorated tree, at least nine feet tall, stood in the corner. White LED lights strung along the crown molding cast a warm glow over the dimly lit room. A large stone fireplace served as the focal point while soft piano holiday standards drifted down from hidden speakers.

The hostess greeted me with a smile and didn’t even blink when I asked for a table for one. This restaurant was a bit romantic for that, but I didn’t mind. Hey, sometimes you have to take yourself out on a nice date.

The cocktail menu was extensive with creative holiday concoctions, but it was a work night, so I stuck with a soda water. My eyes were trailing down the dinner menu when I heard a now familiar voice.

“Actually, can I get back to you on that in one moment?”

I looked up to find Aaron Chambers, still in his suit, headed this way. I straightened in my chair, wanting so badly to fluff my hair out and reapply my lipstick.

“Hello, Kelsey,” he said as he reached my table. His smile was dazzlingly white.

“Are you stalking me?” I asked in a flirty tone. “This is three meals in a row.”

“It’s a small town.” He gazed around the room. “It feels like the smallest, actually.”

I remembered how he was treated at the bakery and wondered if he’d even had lunch. “I’m by myself if you’d like to join.”

His face lit up. He pulled off his black leather gloves and waved over his shoulder at the hostess who quickly brought an extra menu. After a brief look at the entrees and small talk about the weather, he ordered the lobster, and I ordered the roasted chicken. It felt blasphemous to be a Maine resident and not like lobster, but I had a rule about wrestling with my food.

“I was hoping you’d ask me to join,” he admitted.

“Really? Why’s that?” I asked with a tiny smirk.

He loosened his tie. “The townies don’t seem to like me much. I figured another outsider might not mind some company.”

“Oh, but I’m a townie now. Gainfully employed.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Well, I may become one too if we decide to purchase land here.”

“You’d stay in Christmasville?” I asked, surprised.

“Yes, if we go forward with the deal, I’d stay here to supervise construction of the hotel and then maybe even manage it.”

Well, there went my thoughts of having a quick rebound fling with someone I’d never see again.

His dark eyes locked onto mine. “I’m not just in Christmasville to see if it makes financial sense for my family to build a hotel here. I’m also looking to see if I want to build a life here.”

“And what have you come up with so far?” I asked, keeping my voice even.

The flickering votive candle between us cast a dancing shadow over his face. “A lot of mixed feelings.”

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly enough that I didn’t want our time to end. So I was happy when, after we’d gone back outside, he asked me if I’d like to walk for a bit.

“Sure,” I said, looking both ways along the sidewalk. The downtown area was busy with tourists heading to dinner or going out for a postmeal hot cocoa and dessert. Even though creepy trucker hat guy was probably long gone, I’d rather not walk by him twice in one night. It might be nice to take the creek path instead.

“How about we take the scenic route?” I suggested.

He pointed at a candy shop across the street. “Or we could satisfy our sweet tooth.”

I patted my belly. “I appreciate the offer, but I couldn’t even fit a mini candy cane in there after the meal we just had.” I aimed a thumb toward the short alley between buildings that led to the path. “Shall we?”

“Sure,” he said with a smile.

It was nice that he seemed to want to extend our night by getting dessert. But I’d had a long first day, and a stroll back to the inn sounded perfect. And I hadn’t yet seen the creek path since I’d been back to town.

We cut between the buildings and joined the well-shoveled path. No one else was around. A few animated Christmas displays dotted the pristine snow, and flickering faux gas lamps lit the trail. Overall, it had a more hushed, romantic feel than the hustle and bustle of Main Street. The creek bubbled along beside us, looking almost black in the muted evening light.

I stopped and pulled out my phone. “Sorry. This is so pretty, I just have to take a picture.” I snapped away, took a panorama, and recorded a short video. I hoped the sound of the creek came through. Many people probably thought Christmasville was too crowded. I wanted to show that visitors could still find quiet moments of beauty.

“Okay, I’m finished,” I said, slipping the phone back into my bag. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Part of the deal when you’re with someone in social media marketing, I imagine.”

It was true. My brain was never completely off of work. I was always seeing opportunities and getting excited. We started walking again, slowly and side by side so closely that our hands nearly touched.

“So, where do you live when you’re not checking out theme towns for new hotel opportunities?” I asked.

A lock of his blond hair fell out of place, and he lifted a hand to smooth it back. “New York City.”

Because of course. If this was to be my own Christmas romance movie, there had to be a love interest from the big city whose heart needed to be charmed by the small town.

“Where did you live before?” Aaron asked.

“Boston.” As of only a few days ago, but it already seemed like a different lifetime.

“So, why did you come to work in Christmasville?” Aaron asked.

“There was an opening in my field,” I said simply.

He raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me for saying so, but that’s bull.”

Laughter burst out of me. “Oh, really?”

“I mean, if there’s a job opening in the place where you already live, yeah, sure. But to move to a town like this. There has to be more to it.”

He had me there. I just didn’t feel like going into the big, long story. “I recently went through some … life changes. And I used to come here with my parents when I was little. So when I saw the job posting, I don’t know …”

“It felt like a Christmas miracle?” he said with a smirk.

I put a hand to my chest in fake outrage. “Are you mocking me?”

“A little.” His gaze flickered around the scenery. “But I have to admit I feel myself getting taken in by the town as well.”

“Not by the townspeople,” I pointed out.

“Ouch,” he said. “But true.”

“Do you think they’ll come around?” I asked.

“I hope so. I’m not out to kill any small businesses. I’m hoping to bring new business to town. More visitors. People who may not like small, quaint inns. Tourists who want to visit Christmasville but want their lodging to have a state-of-the-art fitness center, world class spa, and full-size indoor pool.”

“That’s not really the town’s vibe, though. Do you really think Christmasville needs a big chain hotel?”

He scowled. “Now you’re starting to sound like one of them.”

I stopped walking and turned to face him. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t work. I do think you’re right that there’s a market here not being served. But I just worry about the people who’ve built their lives here.”

His face softened. “And that’s what makes you a good person. You’re brand new here and you already care about everybody.”

I shrugged. “They’re easy to care about.”

He looked off into the distance. “Of course, none of this matters if we can’t get a good deal on the land. So, we’ll see how it goes.” His eyes came down to meet mine. “But in the meantime, my market research is giving me some truly attractive reasons to stay.”

I could feel my cheeks flushing pink, and it wasn’t because of the cold air.

“I’ve really enjoyed tonight,” he said, his voice deep.

“Well, obviously. I’m delightful.” I smirked. For some reason I suddenly wanted to keep things light.

He chuckled, closing the space between us. His gaze lowered from my eyes to my lips. Was he about to … kiss me? A shot of panic rushed through me. I’d enjoyed the flirting, but I didn’t know if I wanted to take it further yet. I barely knew him. And despite all my inner bravado about having a healing rebound fling, now that an opportunity presented itself, I was hesitant.

He leaned in. Now or never, brain. Decide! Lean in or pull back! Though if this was truly my own Christmas romance movie, I wouldn’t have to decide. Because our first kiss would be interrupted, probably by something humorous.

Or a bloodcurdling scream that pierced the night air.

Chapter Five

Aaron sprinted toward the scream, and I followed as quickly as I could in my heeled boots. I nearly slipped on a small patch of ice and threw my arms around a six-foot-tall plastic candy cane for balance.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, skidding to a stop.

Yeah, just clinging to a human-sized holiday decoration while a woman in the distance screams bloody murder in my new town where it’s Christmas every day. Totally fine. Totally normal.

“Here, take my arm,” he insisted.

I looped my arm through his, which wasn’t as romantic as it could have been—note the screaming—and kept moving. Around a bend, the path led to the land behind the Christmas Creek Inn. A woman—still screaming—stood motioning toward something with her giant mittens. As we got closer, the scene before me became clear.

Someone was in the creek. Face down, their body half submerged in the shallow water.

Lumbering footsteps came from the inn where the screaming had caught someone else’s attention.

Jack, the inn’s resident handyman, hollered, “Everything okay out there?”

“No, Jack!” I yelled back. “Call an ambulance!”

He nodded and rushed back inside.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. He knelt in the snow, reaching into the creek and pulling the person out. I could see now that it was a woman, an older one by the tight-gray curls on her head. And when he turned her over, I gasped.

“M-Mary,” I stuttered. “She works at the town hall.”

“I know,” Aaron said. “I’ve met her.”

He felt for a pulse. Time seemed to stand still. My heartbeat thundered so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

“Is she alive?” the woman beside me asked, in a sweet southern accent. Definitely a tourist, who certainly didn’t expect to find a body on her vacation.

“No,” Aaron said sadly.

“Did you see what happened?” I asked the woman.

She shook her head, the pom-pom on her winter hat bouncing.

“Was she face down like that when you found her?” Aaron asked.

“Yes,” the woman said, tears springing to her eyes. “I saw a cardinal and wanted to get a photo. Then—I need to go find my husband. This is terrible. I can’t believe this.”

“No one’s going anywhere quite yet,” a voice boomed.

I turned to see Sheriff Kris and Officer Nick heading this way. For the second day in a row they would be questioning me about a body. At least I didn’t find this one myself.

Aaron stood, dusting snow off his suit pants. “She has no pulse. I would have attempted CPR, but I think it’s too late for that.”

The sheriff nudged Aaron over and knelt beside the body, shining his flashlight over her face.

Nick corralled the three of us back up onto the path. “Stay here while we inspect the scene.”

The woman beside me had begun to shiver even though she had on a puffy winter coat. I put my arm around her and whispered, “It will be okay. You’re okay.”

She nodded quickly, and the trembling calmed a bit.

“Are you and your husband staying at the Christmas Creek Inn?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said in a small voice. “But I want to go home. I’m calling my husband.” She pulled a mitten off one of her shaking hands.

Kris held a hand up. “No phones yet.”

I rubbed her shoulder. “When the police are finished chatting with us, we’ll call your husband. I’ll walk you back to the hotel. Everything will be okay.”

She grabbed my hand and gave it a thankful squeeze. Aaron looked on with an appreciative gaze. Kris and Nick worked the scene, flashlights bouncing, whispering and pointing between the two of them.

A few other people had come down the path and were now stopped, staring at the scene. It wouldn’t be long before a crowd formed.

“Turn back,” Kris barked at them. “The path is closed.” Then he leaned toward Nick. “Call for backup. We need to mark off a perimeter and keep people away.”

The EMTs had arrived and were now attending to the body, officially confirming the death. I couldn’t believe Mary was dead. I’d just met her this morning. I didn’t exactly befriend her, but maybe in time I would have.

“Oh!” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket. “I should call Carol.”

“We’ll inform the mayor ourselves,” Kris said.

I slid the phone back.

Their attention seemed to be focused now on a rock in the snow at the edge of the creek. Had she tripped over it, maybe? The sheriff snapped some photos, then looked up at us, suspicion in his eyes.

“Who found her?” he asked gruffly.

“I did,” the woman said, raising a mittened hand. “She was face down in the creek. I just started screaming. And then this nice man and his wife came running.”

“Oh, I’m not his—” I began, but the sheriff cut me off with a look. Yeah, not important I guess.

“Why was she not still face down when we got here?” he asked.

“I pulled her out,” Aaron said. “I didn’t know if she was just injured or—”

“And you did a great job of destroying the crime scene,” Nick said, joining us. Yellow police tape flapped in the wind behind him.

“I didn’t realize that’s what it was,” Aaron said. “She could have fallen in and needed help.”

“She has a deep gash on the back of her head,” Kris said. “And there’s enough blood on a nearby rock to explain it.”

The tourist asked shakily, “Did she trip and hit her head on a rock? Or did someone hit her on the head with a rock? Am I safe here?”

Kris cut his eyes to Nick. “Bring her back to the inn. Take an official statement. And get her contact info in case we have any more questions.”

Then he returned his attention to the woman and put on a warm voice that matched his Santa looks. “You’re perfectly safe, ma’am. Christmasville has one of the lowest crime rates in the nation. Mary, here, was an unfortunately well-known klutz, and I’m sure—as you said—she tripped and hit her head. A very unfortunate incident. I hope it doesn’t taint your experience here in town. Mary wouldn’t want that. She was one of Christmasville’s biggest cheerleaders.”

I’d only met Mary for five minutes, and I knew that was a straight-up lie. But the tourist seemed to breathe a little easier as Nick led her away.

Kris returned his attention and his gruff voice to us. “Did you see anyone else out and about while you were on your little stroll?”

“No,” I said. “Not until we heard the scream and went running toward it.”

Aaron rubbed his face. “If it helps at all, I came by this way about an hour and a half ago. I took the path from the Christmas Creek Inn to head to the Golden Spoon for dinner. I suppose I could have missed her, but I doubt it. So whatever happened, happened recently.”

Kris narrowed his eyes. “Or, and I’m just spit balling here, you did it yourself as you passed by.”

Aaron’s mouth opened and closed. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Aaron’s cheeks reddened. “If, in fact, it’s true that she was hit with a rock, why would I volunteer information placing myself at a murder scene?”

Kris took a step closer to us. “To preemptively explain if anyone saw you here. I’m sure you looked around and thought you were alone. Thought you could do the job quickly and not get caught.”

Aaron groaned in frustration. “Your far-fetched theories aside, why would I randomly kill an old lady?”

Kris rocked back and forth on his heels, never taking his eyes off Aaron. “Because the town is asking too high of a price for that big plot of land you want. Maybe if people in town start dying, the price of Christmasville land goes way down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Aaron snapped. “Negotiations are only beginning.”

My head swiveled back and forth between the two of them. All the while, our conversation about the land purchase echoed in my head. About how he needed the price to be right.

“Even still,” Kris said. “I’ll want you to come down to the station to answer more questions.”

“Fine by me,” Aaron said confidently. “Take my fingerprints while you’re at it. They won’t match whatever’s on that rock.”

Kris crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “I’m sure there won’t be any on the rock because you’re wearing gloves.”

My mind went back to the moment he came to my table in the restaurant and peeled off his black leather gloves.

I did not just almost kiss an old-lady killer.

“This is a somewhat aggressive line of questioning for an incident that you haven’t even determined is a murder yet, Sheriff,” I said. “I mean, weren’t you just telling that woman you thought Mary tripped and fell?”

Aaron flashed me a thankful look.

“And you,” the sheriff pointed a stubby finger at my face. “Stay in town. Lots of people seem to be slipping and falling around you lately.”

“Two,” I said defensively. Though it was a personal record.

And now that I thought about it, two people “falling” to their deaths in two days didn’t seem right. I risked a glance at Aaron who was staring down at the snow. He’d walked right by the murder scene before he spent an hour with me. Was he truly interested or had he just used me as an alibi?

Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to lock myself in my room and sink under the covers. “Sheriff, am I free to go?”

“For now. Like I said, stay in town.”

I wouldn’t be anywhere else.

Chapter Six

Aaron wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. Though that didn’t mean he was in shackles at the Christmasville jail, if they even had one. He could have slept in or gotten an earlier start. I took a long sip of coffee and picked at my muffin.

“Something wrong with that?”

I looked up to find Rudy, Grace’s son, giving my muffin the once-over.

“I can get you another one if you don’t like cinnamon and walnut,” he said.

“Oh, it’s not the muffin’s fault,” I said, smiling. “I’m just not that hungry. I had kind of a bad night.” I thought about mentioning Mary and finding her body, but Rudy was just a kid. I’m sure once word got around, Grace wanted to have that conversation with him herself.

He frowned and pushed a lock of his shaggy blond hair out of his eyes. “Anything we can do? I can have Angelica bring thicker pillows or an extra blanket to your room.”

“Not that kind of a bad night,” I said. “The bed is perfect. It was my brain that wouldn’t shut off.”

“Ah.” He sat in the empty chair opposite me. “I’ve had those nights a lot since my dad passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I hadn’t even actually thought about Grace having a husband. She seemed to handle the inn pretty well by herself.

Rudy shrugged. “It’s been over a year now. We’re getting used to it. Though it was rough at first.”

“I can imagine,” I said.

“So, you’re working for the town, right? Social media stuff?” he asked.

“Yep, that’s me! Have any suggestions for locations or attractions that would appeal to the teen audience?”

“Sure. Teens would like our secret barn parties, but we can’t exactly advertise that.”

“No,” I said, chuckling. “And I’ll pretend I didn’t hear it.”

He thought for a moment, scrunching up his freckled nose. “But, for real, maybe the hedge maze? That’s somewhat cool. Most of the other stuff here is little kiddie.”

“That is true,” I said. I couldn’t imagine teens getting excited for pictures with Santa or a cookie decorating contest.

Rudy put his chin in his hands, which made him look less like a teenager and more like a little boy. “So, tell me about the outside world.”

I faked a grimace. “It stinks. You can only hear Christmas music two months a year.”

“Travesty. Can you get hot chocolate in July?”

“Only if it’s iced.”

Rudy gasped. “The humanity!”

I chuckled. “I know it may seem insular, but this is a really nice place to grow up.”

“I wouldn’t know anything else,” he said, glancing around the dining room.

I hadn’t really thought about it that way. Moving here as an adult was one thing. Being born here and never leaving was another. “You will in a couple years, though, right? Are you going to college?”

“Planning on going to University of Southern Maine. They have a Tourism and Hospitality program.”

I leaned back in my chair, impressed. “Wow, you’ve got it all planned out!”

“More like my mom does.” He made a worried face. “I just hope I don’t come off as a total weirdo. Like, everyone else in my classes will be from normal places.”

“Well, I’ve met quite a few teenagers in my day, and you seem just as sarcastic and obnoxious as the rest of them, if it makes you feel any better.”

He covered his mouth as he laughed. “Gee, thanks.”

“Seriously. Don’t worry about it. You’ll fit right in.”

“Thanks, Ms. Hendricks.” He lifted his apron over his head. “And now it’s time for me to head to school.”

I waved as he hurried away. It must be hard, balancing high school and working at your family business. And I’d had no idea Grace had been going it alone for the past year after her husband passed. I made a mental note to reserve a day on the calendar to feature the inn on the town’s socials.

Strangely, that little talk had brought my appetite back. I scarfed down the muffin and headed to the town hall. I had no idea what I was walking into. I didn’t know if Carol would be a crying, snotty mess or what. But I could be supportive today. My boss had lost an employee and friend. Whatever she needed.

Apparently, what she needed was to get a new Douglas fir for the town hall lobby. I walked in to find her on a ladder, placing a star on the top of the tree while singing along to Christmas music.

“Good morning, Carol,” I said, flatly. Unlike her, I felt guilty being cheery on a day like this.

“Kelsey!” She descended the ladder and turned the volume down from a ten to a one. “Good morning! Though it feels like afternoon. I’ve been here for hours. Early start today!”

“I can see that,” I said slowly.

“The old tree was getting a little dry,” she explained. “Dropping its needles. It was time to swap it out for a new one. The lobby always has to stay fresh!”

“Well, the new tree looks great,” I said with a weak smile. Maybe staying busy was how Carol dealt with feelings, but I couldn’t ignore the reindeer in the room. I added, tentatively, “I’m very sorry about Mary.”

The enthusiasm leaked from her face like a deflated balloon. “Yes, it’s very sad. But it’s important to push on. Mary would want that. We have the official town tree-lighting ceremony this weekend. It’s the high season for us. We’ve got big plans.”

“Should we have a memorial post for Mary on our socials?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Carol snapped. “Your job is to encourage people to come here, not post obituaries.”

I stood still, my face blanched white.

She softened. “Plus, she’s not even from here. Her children are bringing her back home to Connecticut for the services and burial.”

I swallowed. “Okay, well, if you need anything, I’m here.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “I do, actually.”

“Whatever you need,” I said, ready to be helpful. I could fetch her coffee. Pick up some of the slack from Mary’s duties.

“I spoke with the sheriff last night, and we all know this unfortunate incident with Mary is nothing. The poor woman slipped and fell. But if the press calls, I need you to stick to the statement I placed on your desk.”

I blinked quickly, confused. The sheriff had gone hard after Aaron last night and seemed a long way from convinced that Mary only slipped and fell. What changed only a few hours later?

“I don’t know if you know this,” I said, “but I was on the scene when she was found.”

“Yes, Kris told me.” She reached out and patted my hand. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Yes, but the police seemed concerned that Mary’s death could have been a, um, murder.”

She sighed and rolled her head from one shoulder to the other. “Apparently, Aaron Chambers screwed up the scene so badly that even if there had been a crime, any evidence was now ruined.”

She was right. There could have been another set of footprints or signs of a struggle. But Aaron had knelt in the snow and dragged Mary’s body out of the creek and onto the bank. A sinister thought crept into my mind. Had he ruined the scene on purpose? Sure, a good person’s first instinct is to try to help, just like he’d done. But if he was a killer, it was now mighty convenient that any of his DNA found on the body could be explained away by his attempt to help her.

While my mind had wandered, Carol was still talking. “So, we have no evidence of a crime being committed. The tree-lighting ceremony is this weekend. Thanksgiving next week. We cannot justify terrifying tourists over an extremely small statistical chance that Mary didn’t fall. Especially when we have no proof.”

I stood, taking it all in. I supposed on a certain level it made sense. We were heading into peak season. All of the town’s small businesses didn’t need tourists canceling out of fear of something that may not have even happened.

But what if it had? What if there was a killer out there, we didn’t warn people, and someone else got hurt? The muffin solidified in my stomach, suddenly feeling like a ball of lead.

“Are you okay?” Carol asked, peering into my eyes like she was checking for a concussion.

“Yeah,” I assured her. “Seeing Mary last night was just … a lot.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Do you need the day off?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.” That wouldn’t look great to take personal time on only my second day on the job. Despite the strangeness I felt at the moment, I really did love it here.

I pointed toward my office. “I’m actually excited to get started. I’m going to stay busy today. I’m building out our social media calendar and working in the dates of featured events. Plus days I want to reserve for highlighting certain businesses in town.”

I continued to babble as I walked, though Carol still looked concerned.

“Remember, no talking to the press!” she called after me. “Stick to the statement!”

I gave her a thumbs up. “Totally!”

Pushing open my office door, I switched on the light and dropped my bag on the floor. Maybe Carol had the right idea. Coming in hours early to decorate a new tree was a bit much, but staying busy and focused on work would help with my spiraling brain. I took off my coat and hung it on the hook on the back of my door. Then I opened the door wide and caught a glimpse of Carol standing exactly where I’d left her.

She spoke intently on her cell phone, concern lining her face. Though I couldn’t hear the words, I couldn’t help but feel it was about me.

Chapter Seven

I dove into the comments sections of our socials, neck tight with worry that someone had posted a comment about Mary’s death. What would I do? Ignore it? Delete it? Brush it off as a tragic accident even though I wasn’t sure that was true? But my anxiety was for nothing. No one mentioned Mary. There were only the usual compliments and questions.

Many followers asked about the time of the tree-lighting ceremony. I decided to create a separate post with the weekend’s agenda rather than answer people separately. I quickly designed an image in a social media graphics app and posted the notice.

That would do for the morning communication, but I wanted a beautiful town visual for a PM addition. I had planned on using one of the pics I took last night on the creek path. But now it seemed in poor taste. I’d have to come up with something else.

A knock on the door grabbed my attention, and I looked up to find Ellison Shaw, bookstore owner and resident hottie in my doorway. My eyes took in his white cable-knit sweater and well-fitting jeans.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he said.

You are. But please bother me. Bother me all day.

“Um, not at all!” I said, forcing the lust out of my voice. “Can I help you with something?”

He probably thought he could use those sky-blue eyes to sweet-talk me into spotlighting his business on the town’s socials. The truth was, he could.

He leaned casually against the door frame. “Actually, I was hoping to help you.”

Consider my interest piqued.

“How so?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.

“Well, you’re new to town, but your job requires you to be a Christmasville expert. So I thought I could give you a little tour. Show you the tourist highlights, the best places to take pictures, that sort of thing.”

That was a kind offer, and part of me was hoping he had romantic ulterior motives. Plus, I had just been thinking I needed new content for an afternoon post. It was a perfect way to spend some time.

“I’d love to,” I said quickly, already rising from my seat. Then I remembered I had a job and a boss. “Oh, I’ll just have to check with Carol.”

“Carol approves!” a voice called out.

Ellison moved aside as Carol swooped into the office.

“I was just walking by and overheard,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “What a wonderful idea.”

“All right then,” I said, grabbing my purse. “It’s unanimous.”

He pointed at my heeled boots. “Do you have a pair of snow boots hanging around? You can’t venture off the sidewalk in those.”

I looked down, frowning. I hadn’t expected an adventure today. My useful winter boots were back at the hotel. Between my current challenge and having to grab Aaron’s arm last night on the slippery path, maybe I should retire my heeled boots completely. “Unfortunately, my snow boots are back at the inn.”

Carol raised her finger high in the air. “What size are you?”

“Seven.”

“I’m an eight, but you’ll be fine. I have an extra pair that I always keep in my office. Let me grab them.”

A moment later, Carol returned with a pair of boots in her hand. They were bright red with a white fur trim. Not exactly my style, but it was better than wiping out in the snow in front of Ellison. I pulled my heeled boots off and slipped them on.

“Like a glove,” I said. “Thanks, Carol!”

I couldn’t believe I was spending the afternoon with a handsome townie while on the clock. This job kept getting better and better! Though as I looked over my shoulder on our way out and saw Carol happily waving us off, a kernel of an idea formed. By the time we’d reached the sidewalk, that little kernel had popped in my brain. I wouldn’t be able to continue unless I knew for sure.

“Wait,” I said, putting my hand on Ellison’s arm.

He turned to me, those eyes sparkling in the sun. “What’s wrong?”

“If I ask you a question, will you promise to tell the truth?”

He straightened his shoulders. “Of course.”

“Was this your idea or did Carol put you up to it?” I braced myself for his answer.

He gazed into my eyes for a moment. “The truth, huh?”

I nodded. “The truth.”

“Carol called and asked me if I’d be interested in showing you some spots around town that would be good for your social media campaigns.”

My heart sank into my tacky red boots.

“But,” he continued, “I was delighted when she asked because I’ve been working my brain over trying to come up with an excuse to see you since we met at the bakery.”

My breath caught in my throat as my heart worked its way back up to its anatomically correct place.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s fine.” More than fine, actually. I appreciated the total honesty. But I was a bit thrown by the fact that Carol had gone out of her way to ask Ellison to do this. Without asking me first. Without even suggesting that I needed a town tour.

Was Carol trying to distract me? And, if so, from what?

“Shall we?” he asked, arm outstretched.

I pushed Carol from my thoughts and looped my arm through his. “Sure! Where to first?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “How about the park? It’s got scenic views, and if we’re lucky, a cocoa cart.”

“Scenic and sweet? I like your style.”

We fell into step easily, strolling at a leisurely pace. Shop windows were decked out, each a snow globe of hand-knit scarves, glass-blown ornaments, or trays of frosted cookies. Tourists milled about with their shopping bags, dipping in and out of stores. Any townies that passed made a point to wave and say hello to Ellison. My handsome companion was apparently very popular.

“Aren’t you Mr. Man About Town?” I teased, giving him a sidelong glance. “You could be mayor.”

“And run against Carol?” he scoffed. “Only if I wanted a knife in my back.”

An image of Mary face down in the creek flashed in my mind. Then the old man in the shower. I shook it off.

“So how do you like it here so far?” Ellison asked.

“I love it,” I said honestly. “It’s such a happy place.” Outside of people dropping dead, but this moment was too nice to ruin it with conversation about lifeless bodies.

A bell jingled as the door to the Sweet Shoppe opened and a giggling child dashed out. I had to stop short so as not to run into him.

He turned to us, his huge smile missing the two front teeth. He raised a lollipop high into the air. “Look what I have!”

I squinted to see the detail. “Is that a white chocolate Santa lollipop? Wow! Awesome!”

“Yeah!” He squealed with delight, then looked back at us. “I’m going to eat his head off first.”

“Oh,” I said, blinking. “Festive. And slightly terrifying.”

Ellison covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

An exhausted-looking mom rushed out from the shop and grabbed the child by the hand. “I told you to wait for me until I paid,” she said through gritted teeth.

Once they were out of earshot, we allowed ourselves a good chuckle.

“You must see a lot of that here,” I said.

“Kids are a never-ending source of entertainment,” he agreed with a nod. “I’ve seen tantrums that would scare the devil. And I’ve seen sweet moments too. I can’t wait to have my own kids someday.”

I didn’t quite know what to say to that, mainly because my ovaries were busy exploding and the whole conversation had taken over my brain.

He looked down at me with a smirk. “You’re pretty small without those heels. How tall are you?”

“Five two,” I lied. I was actually five one and a tenth. But men rounded upward all the time, so why couldn’t I?

“Can I call you Shorty?” he asked with a grin.

“No,” I said flatly.

“Short Stuff?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Shortstop?”

“Never in a million years.”

“Shortcake?”

I pinched a face and shook my head no.

He threw his head back, laughing. “Okay, no nicknames.”

“No short-themed nicknames,” I clarified. Light snowflakes began to spiral down from the blue sky. “I didn’t know it was supposed to snow today.”

“It’s not,” Ellison said. “These are just passing flurries. Though we are getting a few inches tonight.”

Don’t make the joke. Don’t make the joke. I bit my lip to stop myself, and when I looked over at Ellison, he was doing the same. Okay, similarly immature sense of humor—check.

“So,” I said quickly, redirecting. “Ellison. Is that short for something Christmas-y?”

He gave me a look. “No. At my birth, my parents didn’t foresee me moving to a Christmas-themed village in Maine three decades later.”

“Wait, you’re not a lifer?” I said, surprised.

His eyebrows rose. “A what?”

“A lifer. It’s what I mentally call people who’ve been born and raised here.”

He laughed again. It was big and throaty. Surprisingly sexy. “Christmasville is not a prison, Kelsey.”

“Not that kind of lifer,” I said with a quick roll of my eyes. “Anyway, moving on. So, when did you move here?”

His smile faltered, and he slipped his hands into his pockets. “About two years ago.”

“Where did you live before?” I asked.

He stopped and pointed ahead of us. “We’re here. Welcome to Christmasville Park.”

Main Street’s shops and restaurants ended, and while the road continued, on either side of it was the park. The west side had a bandstand, a gazebo, and easily two dozen people dotted across the white expanse. On the east side was a giant sleigh with a line of tourists taking family photos, the hedge maze, and in the distance, skaters circling the frozen pond.

But as I took that all in, I wondered. It had seemed like Ellison didn’t want to answer the question I’d asked. Why wouldn’t he want to talk about where he was from?

“C’mon, this way,” he said, waving me on.

But I’d stopped in my tracks, Ellison’s evasion when I mentioned his past already forgotten as a fresh idea pulsed in my brain. The last building before the park began was a red brick store that sold Christmasville trinkets. The front had the usual merry window display. But the entire side of the building—which faced the park—was blank.

“That’s an opportunity,” I said, pointing.

Ellison followed my line of sight and furrowed his brow. “That, my dear Kelsey, is a brick wall.”

I loved the way he said my name, but even that couldn’t distract me.

“It’s a plain brick wall,” I said. “But it doesn’t have to be.”

Ellison crossed his arms over his chest and gave me an intrigued grin. “You’re going to have to explain.”

The wheels in my brain were turning and the excitement leaked into my voice. “The cheapest form of marketing is word of mouth. It’s also the most trusted. And how do people pass on word of mouth these days?”

“Social media?” Ellison guessed.

“Correct. People post pictures of where they’ve been. Their friends see them, get interested, and look into the place. Nowadays, if you want people to post about your business on their own socials, you have to give them a photo-worthy backdrop. For example, one of the longest non-ride lines in the Magic Kingdom isn’t to meet a character. It’s to take a picture in front of a purple wall.”

Ellison raised his finger. “Like those angel wings in Nashville! People wait an hour to get their picture taken there.”

“The ‘What Lifts You’ mural,” I said, nodding. “Great example.”

He looked back at the brick wall. “I see where you’re going with this.”

“It’s the perfect placement. Right at the park. Plenty of room for a line if necessary. If we got an interesting mural on there, everyone would want their picture taken by it, location tagged. Free marketing. Boom.” I smiled, happy with my idea. “It’s not a brick wall. It’s an empty canvas.”

Ellison’s gaze lingered on me for a long moment.

“What?” I said, suddenly nervous.

“You’re really good at what you do,” he said, impressed. “Do you know how many people have walked by here and never seen anything other than a brick wall? You saw more. You saw its potential.”

“Thanks,” I said, a blush rising to my cheeks. That was the nicest compliment I’d received in a long time. Better than anything Trent had ever said. His compliments had usually centered on my ass. Sometimes he branched out and included my tits. But never my brain.

I slipped my phone out of my pocket and took a few shots. “To show Carol later,” I explained. “Hopefully she’ll be on board.”

“She will love that idea,” Ellison said. “First, because it’s free. Second, because she can make a big deal out of choosing the local artist. Making them all come to her with their ideas and her crowning the winner. She revels in the power.”

I chuckled. I didn’t know her quite well enough yet, but I could picture it. “Okay, sorry to derail your tour. I’m ready now.”

“Hey, this day is about you. Derail whenever you want.”

My gaze drifted to a group of people clustered together about halfway into the park. I motioned with my chin. “What’s going on over there?”

A little smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “You’ll love it. Very … Insta-worthy.”

Hearing that buzzword come out of his mouth was both funny and adorable. I’d dated a couple guys who openly mocked social media. I didn’t mind if someone didn’t know anything about it. But belittling my job and my passion was an instant turnoff. Ellison, on the other hand, seemed impressed with my knowledge and was interested in learning more about it. On top of that, he looked … the way he did. It was like I’d stumbled upon a unicorn in a forest of mediocre men.

Slow your roll, I told myself. You’re not even on an official date. And considering the way you behaved when Aaron tried to lean in for a kiss last night, you might not be ready for one.

Ellison led the way as we trudged through the snow. As ugly as they were, I was glad I had Carol’s boots. Ellison pointed out a few areas as we walked. The gazebo was adorable. Probably even more so at night when it was lit up. I made a mental note to come back for twilight pics. He showed me where the tree lighting ceremony would take place Friday. Two men were already putting together a small stage. The thirty-foot tree was due to arrive tomorrow from a farm in Canada. Which gave the parks department two days to finish decorating it. Finally, we reached the small crowd, and I saw what they were doing.

Three families and one couple were in the midst of building snowmen of various skill levels. One was short and stocky. One was tall, narrow, and unfortunately phallic looking. The others just had their bases.

“Is there a contest going on?” I asked. “I didn’t see anything on the schedule for today.”

“As soon as the first snow of the season falls, there’s an official contest every Saturday. But beyond that anyone can build a snowman whenever they want.” He pointed at two large cardboard boxes. “Check it out.”

I walked over and took a peek. The boxes sat full of accessories—hats, gloves, short sticks for arms.

I was practically grinning from ear to ear. “This is so cute. We can use anything we like?”

“Yep. The town keeps this stocked from the lost and found. If someone picks up a glove or whatever on the sidewalk, the police will hold on to it for thirty days. After that, it belongs to the snowmen.”

“Do we have enough time in your tour itinerary to make a quick one?” I asked.

“No way,” he said. “I don’t do quick. It’s only worth doing if you take your time and do it well.”

I was suddenly sweating in the thirty-degree air. “Let’s do it well, then.”

Ellison crouched low, scooping up a loose pile of snow and packing it tightly between his gloved hands. I bent down and started to roll my own piece, gently pressing and turning the snow until it began to clump together. My palms were already cold through my gloves, but I didn’t stop. I focused on shaping the snowball with care, smoothing it into a clean, rounded dome for the snowman’s head.

By the time I looked up, Ellison had already built a sturdy base and a slightly lumpy middle.

“Well done,” he said, eyes crinkling as he examined the snowman’s would-be head. “I’ll carry it over. Want to pick out the wardrobe?”

His gloved fingers brushed mine—just a passing touch through thick layers of fabric, but somehow it felt like a spark all the same. I glanced up, and he was already looking at me, for a second too long.

“I-I’ll just put this on top,” he stuttered.

“I’ll go get the clothes,” I said quickly.

I rifled through the box, eventually choosing two mismatched gloves, a Patriots pom-pom hat, and a threadbare pink scarf that had seen better days. I carried the accessories over. The hat and scarf fit quite well. Ellison added two short sticks for arms, which we pulled the gloves over to finish things off.

“Quite the eclectic fashion statement,” he said.

“We can’t have a boring snowman,” I retorted.

He took a step closer to me. “I don’t think you could create anything boring if you tried.”

My cheeks heated. A silence stretched between us as we locked eyes. This was the moment in the Christmas romance movie where we’d kiss. Or, more likely, I’d break the moment with a playfully thrown snowball, which would turn into an all-out snowball fight, during which I’d trip and fall on top of him in the snow and then we’d kiss.

But, strangely, even though last night with Aaron I was hoping for an interruption, this time I truly wasn’t.

Ellison was the whole package. A well-read bookstore owner who looked like he belonged on the cover of a bestselling romance novel. He was charming and sweet. And the way he was looking at me right now made me feel like I was ready for my first post-Trent kiss.

“Damn,” Ellison muttered under his breath.

I blinked quickly, pulling myself out of the moment. Ellison’s eyes had left mine and his nostrils flared with frustration. I peered over my shoulder to find a woman glaring at us. She was gorgeous with long, flowing fire-engine red hair—definitely a dye job. And she was heading this way.

He tensed. “Double damn.”

“She looks pissed,” I noted with a slight edge of concern. “Did you run over her grandma or something?” I said trying to lighten the moment.

“She’s my ex,” he said with a resigned sigh.

Oooohhh. This was going to be … something.

“Hello, Ellison.”

I didn’t think you could greet someone in a simultaneously friendly yet extremely passive-aggressive tone, but she got it done.

“Susie,” he said flatly.

“Who do we have here?” she asked, motioning at me.

“Kelsey. I’m new to town.” I held my gloved hand out, and she stared at it like I was offering her a small pile of dog poo.

She looked me up and down, her lips pursed tight. “Nice boots.”

Damn it, Carol. You couldn’t just have a plain black pair of snow boots.

“What do you want, Susie?” Ellison said wearily.

“What?” she put a hand to her chest, feigning innocence. “I can’t come over and say hi?”

“You did that. Now have a nice day.”

She glowered at him for a long moment, then turned and stomped away. Not without taking a moment to kick her leg and take a chunk out of our snowman’s base.

Ellison sighed heavily. “I’m sorry about that.”

I shrugged. “Hey, we all have exes. Mine isn’t a fiery redhead filled with rage, but you know.”

“She’s really a blonde. She dyed her hair after our breakup and sent me cute notes that said things like, ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’ ”

“Sounds pleasant. I’m guessing you were the dumper and she the dumpee.”

“You are correct. It was months ago. You’d think she’d be over it by now, but apparently not.”

I looked over my shoulder at her retreating form and her bombshell of a body. “Why did you break up with her?”

His mouth turned down. “Things were great at first. But then she got controlling. Always wanting to know where I was and who I was with. But the last straw was when I found out she’d put a tracking app on my phone. Then I ended things.”

“Yikes,” I said.

“Yeah, big yikes.”

“Does she work in town?” I asked.

He nodded. “She’s a hostess at the Tinsel Room.”

I made a mental note to never eat there on a night she was working. I didn’t need my meal spit-glazed. Or worse.

“Is she from here?” I asked. Susie wasn’t a Christmasville kind of name, though I supposed not everyone was given a holiday themed one at birth.

“No, she moved to town a year ago. To be honest, I think she had this fantasy idea that she’d create her own cozy small town love story like in those TV movies.”

“Bizarre,” I said. What kind of lunatic would do that? I held myself back from whistling innocently.

I worried that he would now ask about my dating history, and that was something I didn’t want to get into at the moment. I patted my stomach dramatically. “Well, I don’t know about you, but getting accosted by your stalker ex made me hungry. Is there a stop on your tour for food?”

He seemed just as happy with the change of subject. “There’s always time for food. I know you’ve already been there, but what about Holly’s Bakery? It’s my favorite.”

“Yum,” I said, and I meant it. “Best sandwich I’ve ever had so I could definitely go for another.”

Only a few minutes later, we were ordering at the register and grabbing a table in the corner. I only got soup this time because I wanted to save room for one of the scrumptious desserts I spied in the glass case.

“Spit in his!” Holly yelled from the back as someone delivered our food.

“It would taste exactly the same!” Ellison hollered back.

“What is it with you two?” I said, laughing.

“Her husband, Nick, is a buddy of mine. I watch football at their place a lot on Sundays. She’s a trash talker. I love them both.”

My squash soup was amazing—buttery and creamy. Ellison’s turkey and avocado sandwich looked drool-worthy as well. I could seriously eat here every day and be a happy woman.

Holly came over a moment later wiping her hands on her green apron that said “It’s Beginning to Taste a Lot Like Christmas.” She gazed at us with interest and asked, “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Like that would stop you.” Ellison gestured to the empty chair at our table.

I explained, “Ellison kindly agreed to show me around town today. The best places for tourists, picture spots, stuff like that.”

“I have to thank you, New Girl,” Holly said, pointing at me. “Those photos you shared on the town’s socials of my bakery were gorgeous. And I’ve picked up a good number of new followers since.”

“Really?” I said, delighted. “That’s great.”

“I’m not surprised,” Ellison said. “Kelsey is amazing at her job.”

Holly’s eyebrows rose even higher as she looked at Ellison and back at me. I wondered what that meant.

Ellison’s cell started ringing. He checked the name and answered quickly. “Hello? … Did you try hitting the escape button? … Okay. I’ll head back. No, that’s fine … I’ll be back in a bit.”

He sighed as he placed the phone back down on the table. “Unfortunately, Alma is having some technical issues.”

“That’s what happens when you hire a two-hundred-year-old,” Holly said under her breath.

Ellison cut her a look. “Alma knows more about books than the rest of the town combined.”

“But not a lot about touch-screen checkout,” Holly teased.

Ellison ignored her last dig and turned to me. “Sorry I didn’t get you to as many places as I wanted to.”

I shrugged. “Quality over quantity, right?”

He gave me a pleased smile. “Right.” Then he stood, gathering his things, and said, “Holly, it was terrible as always.”

“You’re banned,” she said. “Take yourself out with the trash.”

I chuckled. Their playful banter made me ache for a friendship like that. My only friends back in the city were surface friends—coworkers, girlfriends of Trent’s friends, and the like. My real, true friends were from college and dotted across the country. We still got together once a year for a raucous girl’s weekend but didn’t catch up more often than that. One of my biggest regrets of what I will now refer to as my “Trent years” was that I had invested so much into our relationship and didn’t put any time into nurturing friendships of my own that were separate from him or our workplace. I was hoping to change that here. But making friends as an adult was so hard. It’s different when you’re young and thrown together—into the same homeroom or the same dorm. Adult friendships took effort to create. First, you had to find people you liked (harder than it sounds). Then they had to like you back and have room in their life for a new friend. Then you had to find time to get together. The whole endeavor seemed exhausting.

I used my spoon to trap the last drop of soup from the bottom of the bowl. “This is so good.”

“Thank you, darling,” Holly said dramatically. “And dessert is on me as a thank-you for the social media boost.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I’m just doing my job.”

“But you’re doing it well. I don’t know who was doing it before—”

“Carol,” I cut in.

Holly grimaced. “Well, that would explain it.”

I snickered as I wiped my mouth with a napkin.

Holly leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Nick said you and Suit Man were on a date when you found Mary.”

I shook my head so fast I nearly made myself dizzy. “We didn’t find her. We ran to help a woman who was screaming. She found the body. And it wasn’t a date.”

She gave me a skeptical look. “So how did you end up strolling along Lover’s Lane like that?”

“I was eating alone at the Golden Spoon,” I explained. “Aaron came in, also alone, and so we shared a table. We’re both staying at the Christmas Creek Inn, so it only made sense that we walk back together. It was my idea to take the creek path because Main Street was crowded.”

“So it didn’t start as a date. But maybe if you hadn’t been interrupted by finding Mary …” her voice trailed off.

I knew it was none of her business. She was definitely being a busybody. But for some reason I wanted to be honest with her.

“Maybe,” I admitted. “We did have a nice time at dinner. I haven’t seen him since but he is an … interesting man.”

“And Ellison?” she prodded.

I couldn’t hold back a smile. “Another very interesting man that I am also not dating.”

“And back home?”

My smile disappeared. “I was dating someone pretty seriously and he cheated.”

She winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah.” I stared down at the table. “I don’t really want to talk about it. It was pretty recent.”

She reached back and tightened her ponytail. “Well, it looks like there are two ridiculously handsome and eligible bachelors willing to be your rebound man. If you’d like to be put on one of their naughty lists.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

I laughed and gave a dreamy sigh. “I wish I was one of those people who could have a night of meaningless, hot, passionate, steamy—”

“I get it,” Holly said with a chuckle. “But you’re not?”

I shook my head. “I’ll catch feelings. I know I will.”

“And that’s so bad?”

I thought for a moment. “I guess it depends on if he’s worth it.”

She nudged me with her shoulder. “Girl to girl? Ellison is.”

Chapter Eight

As predicted, Carol went head over heels for my mural idea. She told me to make it a contest and post about it right away so people could start designing their entries. It was nice to have a few wins from the start in a new job. I brought some takeout back to the inn and spent the night hedonistically eating in bed and playing around on my phone. A girl needs a night like that.

I enjoyed my first good quality night of sleep and woke refreshed and ready to take on another day. The thrill of actually looking forward to going to work had still not worn off. Neither did my love for coffee.

Entering the dining area of the inn, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply at my lover’s scent. Sweet, sweet java.

“Is this some new kind of yoga? Where you stand still in a room full of food and breathe deeply?”

I opened my eyes and smirked at Aaron. “It’s all the rage. You should join in.”

He lifted his plate. “I would, but I’ve already buttered my bagel. Join me instead?” He motioned to a table where he’d draped his suit jacket over the back of a chair.

“Sure,” I said. “Let me grab some food and I’ll be right over.”

“Namaste.” He gave me a little bow.

I selected a cherry Danish and filled a mug with steaming wake-up juice. Then I took the seat opposite Aaron and gave him a polite smile.

“I’m glad this isn’t weird,” he said. “I was worried it would be weird between us now.”

“Why?” I asked with faux bewilderment. “Just because we found a dead body? That happens to me every time I eat dinner with a man.”

He gave a sharp laugh. “Okay, now you made it weird.”

“I always do,” I said, taking a bite of my Danish. I took a moment to let it melt in my mouth and tried not to moan. “So how are things going?”

“Surprisingly fine.” He took a sip of coffee. “By the way Sheriff Santa, or whatever his name is, acted that night I thought I’d need our family lawyers up here ASAP. But the whole thing just sort of went away.”

“They never asked you to go down to the station?” I asked, surprised.

“Nope. You?”

“No, but they also weren’t accusing me of murder.”

“Lucky you,” he snorted.

“I wonder what happened,” I said. “Not that I’m complaining. I’m glad they’re not giving you any trouble.”

He shrugged. “My guess is they found evidence consistent with an accident.”

Or maybe Mayor Carol made it all go away to keep bad press off the town.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You’re frowning at that bite of Danish like it’s poisoned.”

I didn’t want to share a negative theory about my boss. Especially when I had no evidence. So I popped the bite into my mouth and fake-choked.

“Seriously, don’t even joke,” he said.

I pouted. “A girl can’t even pretend to be dying from a poisoned Danish anymore. What’s this world coming to?”

He glanced at his watch. “I don’t even know how to respond to that, but I’m already late for a meeting. Hope to run into you again, you strange and intriguing weirdo.”

I raised my mug in response. Two days in a row, amazing compliments from handsome men. But as I checked my phone, I realized that I, too, had to run to work.

I walked the short distance with a smile on my face. As predicted, we’d gotten a couple inches of pure white powder overnight. The roads and sidewalks were already cleared. Christmasville was on top of that. Tourists couldn’t spend their money if they couldn’t walk to the stores. And Carol had bragged to me that installing heated sidewalks had been the biggest accomplishment of her first year in office.

But now, Mayor Carol was at the front desk in the lobby of the town hall rather than in her office. Mary’s desk. She was opening drawers and rifling through papers, looking quite agitated. She was always put together, not a hair out of place. But this morning her blouse was misbuttoned and a smear of eyeliner spread from her left eye.

“I can’t find anything,” she said as I approached. “Mary had her own way of organizing, and I’m really flustered here.”

I peeled off my gloves and shoved them in the pockets of my coat. “Can I help?”

“Well, that influencer I told you about is here.” She pointed toward her office. “She’s contracted to stay through the tree-lighting ceremony on Friday night. I’m hoping you can work with her to get the most out of our investment.”

I nodded. “Of course. Where is she staying?”

“The Christmas Creek Inn. So it shouldn’t be hard to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s hitting on all of the best Christmasville has to offer.”

“Absolutely. I’m on it.”

“Wonderful.” She blew out a breath of frustration. “I need to post a job listing to replace Mary. It’s just …” her voice trailed off.

Painful, I guessed. Even though Mary didn’t have the best attitude, they’d worked together for a long while. You see someone every day and then they’re just gone. It’s hard to replace them.

“Perhaps a temp agency can send someone until you’re ready to start the hiring process,” I suggested.

She pointed at me. “Great idea, Kelsey. You’re always thinking.”

I puffed my chest out a bit, pleased with the compliment.

“Shall we go into my office and I’ll introduce you to the influencer?” Carol asked.

“Lead the way,” I said.

As she rose from the desk, I silently stopped her. I fixed her missed button, grabbed a tissue from the desk, and wiped off the offending eyeliner smudge. Then I nodded wordlessly.

“Thank you,” she breathed with a look of gratitude in her eyes.

I shrugged. “Real queens fix each other’s crowns. Now, go be mayor.”

That little moment seemed to snap her back into place. She straightened her shoulders and catwalked to the office, her heels clicking on the floor.

She made it a few steps before me, announcing, “Our social media manager is here, and she’s going to be your main point of contact.”

I followed her into the office, wide smile on my face. Then that smile dropped to the floor.

No. No, no, no.

It was her. With her long, black hair—straight and shiny enough to be in a shampoo commercial. Her gorgeous green eyes, which she filtered to make even brighter in her photos. And her tall, lithe body—that had been all over Trent. I gulped audibly.

Isabella seemed just as startled to see me. Both of us stared, wide-eyed, jaws slack.

Carol glanced back and forth between us awkwardly. “Do you two know each other?”

We continued to stare unblinking like a game of chicken.

Isabella’s mouth opened.

“Yes!” I blurted. “Actually, we worked together before. On a previous client. Very brief. Kelsey, remember?”

I held my hand out, narrowing my eyes with a silent “play along” message.

“Of course,” she said coolly and gave my hand a limp shake. “I’m Isabella.”

“Right,” I said, as if the name hadn’t been burned into my memory. Along with her personal photo of Trent. In her bed. Naked.

“Ah, that’s right,” Carol said. “When I was researching your work history, Kelsey, I found myself on your agency’s website. They had a list of influencers they work with, and that’s how I found Isabella here.”

“Wonderful,” I said with a tight smile.

“Hey, shorten that to Belle and you’d really fit in here,” Carol said with a chuckle. Then an uncomfortable silence stretched on for a long moment, until she clapped her hands. “Well, I’ll let you take it from here, Kelsey. In your office. And I’m going to get to work on that temp idea you had.”

“Of course.” I smiled sweetly. “Isabella, you can follow me next door to my office, and we’ll come up with a game plan for the day.”

As soon as we were in my office with the door closed, I dropped the act. “Did you know this contract would have you working with me?”

“Of course not,” she snapped. “I never intended to see you again, let alone work with you.”

“Well, we agree on one thing.”

Her scowl deepened. “I’m not even on the agency’s list of recommended influencers anymore, thanks to you. I’m lucky I got this stupid gig. I’m going to tell the mayor that you ruined a person’s career out of a personal vendetta.”

I gritted my teeth. “Or maybe I’ll tell our buttoned-up mayor that you submitted inappropriate photos to your last client, and I don’t think you’re a good fit for our family-friendly town.”

She let out a sound that was as close to a roar as I’d heard from a human being. “You wouldn’t!”

I pointed a finger at her face. “Try me.”

Out of arguments, Isabella crossed her arms and pouted for a long moment, like a child denied candy from the grocery checkout lane.

I closed my eyes and took a breath. Cool heads had to prevail here. As much as I would have liked to light her up and get her fired, it wouldn’t be a good look. I’d have to explain our sordid history to Carol. And Carol may not like finding out that I quit my last job without notice. My manager had been sympathetic and gave me a great recommendation, but I’m sure a couple of the clients I left in the lurch would feel differently. I didn’t want to lose this job. I was happy here. And I was sure Isabella wouldn’t want to lose another contract. Especially after it appeared our old agency dropped her.

“How about this?” I suggested. “You do your job. I’ll do mine. Then you leave, and we never work with each other again.”

She hesitated for a long moment, like she had any other choice. Then she spat, “Fine by me.”

Okay, how were we going to do this? Carol wanted us to spend a lot of time together, but we’d end up killing each other. However, the one thing I did know about Isabella—other than the fact that she was a boyfriend stealer—was that she was good at her job. She had a loyal following with a high engagement rate and good overall metrics. She could help maximize the reach of a campaign. And she didn’t need me holding her hand to do it.

“Here’s the plan,” I said. “Let’s head out now. I’ll show you the basics, the places you want to hit, and trust you to take it yourself from there. We let Carol think we’re spending more time together than we really are. You kill this campaign, get paid, and move on.”

I could tell from her squinty-eyed expression that she wanted to find fault in my plan, just to argue with me. But there was none. It was the best thing for the both of us.

Sighing like I’d asked her to climb Mount Everest, she grabbed her handbag and slipped on a pair of oversized sunglasses. “Let’s go.”

As we strolled down Main Street, I pointed out some shops and restaurants she might want to visit. I told her about the park with the gazebo and skating pond. Then I explained the details and timing of the tree-lighting ceremony Friday night. After that, she would leave town, and I would breathe again.

“You may also want to do a live or two from the inn you’re staying at, Christmas Creek,” I suggested. “It’s beautiful. And they have cookie decorating contests and visits from Santa. Plus, the owner, Grace, is a single mom who works her butt off.”

But Isabella seemed to have stopped listening to me a while ago. She scowled, her nose turning up like she’d sniffed sour milk.

“This town is a total cheese-fest,” she sneered.

I stared, stone-faced. Did she really think a town that celebrated Christmas every day wasn’t going to be cheesy? “That’s the point. It’s supposed to be over-the-top.”

“But not in a cheap way,” she said dismissively.

It wasn’t a cheap way at all. In fact, I found the whimsy and charm to be elegant at times. But I didn’t want to prolong our argument, so I kept my mouth shut. Isabella, however, didn’t follow suit.

“Of course you’d like it,” she muttered under her breath.

Despite my best intentions, I took the bait. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She paused, looking me up and down like she was racking her brain for an insult. She finally settled on one and said, “Your bag’s a knockoff.”

I gripped the strap of my handbag tightly. Trent had bought it for me, so I wasn’t exactly shocked to find that he’d gifted me a fake. But I wouldn’t be giving Isabella the pleasure of that knowledge.

Shrugging, I said, “Labels don’t matter to me. Unlike other, more superficial, people.”

I honestly didn’t know how we were going to make it three days. We couldn’t even do a one-hour tour without fighting. Maybe I just should end it now, I thought. Tell Carol the truth about my history with Isabella and let the pieces fall where they may.

“I don’t need you anymore,” Isabella suddenly declared. “I’ve got this.” And then she pushed her way past me and clomped down the sidewalk toward the park.

I lifted my eyes to the sky, grateful. Here it was. My first Christmas miracle.

Chapter Nine

The rest of my workday was Isabella-less and therefore delightful. I checked her account, and she’d already posted a story showing families skating on the pond and a picture of her beside an impressive snowman. I’d bet every dollar I had that someone else had made that snowman, but it didn’t matter. She was doing her job, showing her followers all the fun activities visitors could do in Christmasville, Maine, and looking gorgeous while doing it. Win-win for everyone.

I’d downloaded a rental app days ago that finally notified me of an apartment listing in town. I made an appointment after work to go see it. It was outside the town center, but it was about time I drove my car anyway. I didn’t want the battery to die from not being used.

I went directly from the town hall to the inn and started my car. I brushed a dusting of snow off the windshield, then sat and let the engine idle for a minute to warm up. I’d been hoping to find an apartment in the thick of it all. Many of downtown’s shops had units on their second and third floors. But in a town this size, there wasn’t always something available. This one was a bit further out, but it was still worth seeing.

As the main road thinned out and buildings were replaced by pine trees, it dawned on me that I was living in the middle of nowhere. It was easy to forget that while surrounded by twinkle lights, Christmas decorations, and jolly travelers. But now, with the sky darkening and the space between homes widening, I remembered that I was in Stephen King land.

My GPS alerted me to a turn, and I wound onto an even narrower road with no street lights. Then I reached my destination and pulled into the gravel driveway of a two-story duplex. As I got out of the car, my eyes took the home in. There wasn’t a single decoration, which felt blasphemous. But I could fix that with a wreath and some LED candles for the windows. The exterior desperately needed a fresh paint job, but I tried to reserve judgment until I could see inside.

A man emerged from the side of the building and put a cigarette out on the ground. He wiped his hands on his dirty jeans and turned his backward trucker hat forward.

There was something familiar about him. I approached, uncertain. “Are you Billy?”

“That’s me,” he said gruffly. “You the lady who texted about the apartment?”

“That’s me!” I echoed with forced enthusiasm.

“Well, then, let’s go on in and see it.” He walked me up to the front steps and unlocked the door. “I live in the unit next door. So, if you ever need anything …”

He looked me up and down while his voice trailed off to a place that I hoped meant, like, repairs or a cup of sugar.

The door opened into the living room. The unit came fully furnished, which was nice, but the smell was not. My hand immediately flew up to cover my mouth.

Noticing my discomfort, Billy said, “The previous renter had problems with, uh, cat pee. But if it bothers you, I could get the couch steam-cleaned.”

It smelled like much more than just the couch stunk. That cat must have peed in every corner of the room.

The kitchen was next. It had all the standard appliances, which was good. I wasn’t a big cook, but it would be nice not to have to get takeout for dinner almost every night. The inside of the fridge was a bit moldy, but I could clean that.

“Your bedroom is upstairs,” he said. The statement was normal, but something in his tone wasn’t.

I turned to look at him, and he gave me a slow, leering grin.

With a jolt, I realized where I knew him from. This was the man who’d been watching me a few nights before, skulking in the shadows between two buildings downtown. He wore the same camo-patterned trucker hat, and I’d recognize that predatory smirk anywhere.

I suddenly, truly, didn’t want to go upstairs with him. Of course, the societal “be a good girl” rules I was raised with made me immediately feel bad. My knee-jerk reaction was to be polite and follow him up there. Except there are times in life when ignoring your inner voice was a mistake.

I straightened my shoulders and used my all-business tone. “Actually, I saw the pictures of the bedroom in your online listing. And I think I’ve seen enough down here to help me make a decision. I’ll email you tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a response, I hightailed it out of there and back to my car, which I immediately locked. This was the only available rental in town right now. But I’d wait. Something else would pop up, closer to downtown, and with better vibes. Without cat pee stench. And without a creep for a landlord. In the meantime, my reservation at Christmas Creek was open-ended.

I breathed a sigh of relief after I parked and walked up to the main door of the inn. It was amazing that someplace could feel like home after only a few days. Not only the inn but also the whole town. At first, I thought it was only the nostalgia tugging at my heart. But now that I’d met a lot of townspeople and really gotten to know the place, my affection had only deepened.

The lobby smelled like pine and coffee. Grace waved at me from behind the front desk. Rudy gave me a big smile as he carried a suitcase. Even old Jack tipped his hat to me as he limped by, a hammer and a screwdriver in his hand, off to repair something.

“Hey, guys!” a bubbly voice called out. “I’m here in the most fabulous town. It’s Christmasville, Maine, and get this—it’s Christmas all the time here! Even in July! I’ve already shown you some super fun stuff you can do here, but it’s only just beginning. Over the next couple of days, there’s so much more to see!”

Isabella was parked in front of the fireplace, her LED selfie light casting just the right glow on her ivory skin as she spoke to her followers. I rolled my shoulders and tried to relax my neck. Just hearing her voice made me tense. She seemed to be doing a good job, though, and seeing me might change that so I quickly snuck upstairs to my room.

I sent a text to my brother asking how his job was, though he probably wouldn’t respond for two days. That was his style. My parents were much quicker to write back, even though their time zone was completely different at the moment. They were still having a fantastic time on their cruise and seemed happy—maybe even relieved—to hear that things were going so well for me here.

After microwaving a frozen dinner and mindlessly watching TV for a couple hours, it was time to call it a day. I pulled the comforter up to my chin and sank into the mattress. But instead of going to sleep, my brain kept replaying recent conversations. Arguments with Isabella, flirtations with Aaron and Ellison, Holly’s insistence that we had a murderer in town. They played on a loop over and over. Then my lovely brain decided the middle of the night was a great time to fixate on the two bodies I’d seen. First the old man. Then Mary. Over and over.

“Enough!” I snapped, ripping the covers off. If I could punish my own brain, I’d ground it for a week.

I’d had nights like this in the past, and stubbornly staying in bed in a futile attempt to force sleep to happen never worked. I was better off going for a little walk. Maybe Grace kept a stash of midnight snacks in the dining room. I zipped up a sweatshirt over my pajama top and pushed my feet into slippers. My flannel pants made a whoosh-whoosh sound as I padded down the stairs.

The lights from the Christmas tree cast a warm glow over the lobby. A single lamp in the corner helped to keep the room dimly lit. The front desk had a little sign with a number to call for off-hour emergencies. Probably Grace’s cell, I guessed.

A floorboard creaked.

I spun around. “Hello?”

Was someone else down here? I squinted at the shadows in every corner. The sound had probably been the old building settling. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t alone. Not only that, but I was being watched. Creepy landlord guy wouldn’t have followed me here, would he?

Goosebumps rose on my skin, and I rubbed my arms. My heart pounded wildly. I was definitely wide awake now. Sleep had no chance. I stood still, holding my breath for another long moment. No other sounds came.

Maybe I’d see if warm milk worked or was a myth. I ambled into the dining room. Only the under-cabinet lighting was on, but it was enough to see what I needed to. All of the tables were cleared and cleaned, waiting for breakfast. Unfortunately, a basket of midnight snacks for guests who couldn’t sleep existed only in my imagination. But the fridge in the corner might have some milk that I could microwave.

I pulled open the door, squinting against the bright refrigerator light. There, in the back, was a half gallon of milk. Perfect. I grabbed it and spun around, letting the fridge door close behind me. Just in time to see a shadow of a person enter the room.

I let out a shriek and dropped the container.

The other person screamed, clearly just as startled.

The lights came on, and I held a hand up, confused as to how some recessed lighting could be as bright as the sun.

“Kelsey?”

Squinting and adjusting, I brought my hand down. “Grace?”

Grace stood wearing blue flannel pajamas with a pattern of little penguins. She put a hand over her heart. “I had no idea anyone was in here. Your scream scared the daylights out of me.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart rate slowly returning to normal. “I was already on edge because I’d heard footsteps when I was in the lobby, so when I turned away from the fridge and saw a person standing there, I guess I freaked out.”

Grace tilted her head. “Not my footsteps. I just came in now.”

“Oh.” It had probably been the building creaking. Or another guest. Or a crazed murderer. “Anyway, sorry for screaming.” I reached down and picked up the milk. Thankfully the plastic container hadn’t cracked.

“Let me guess,” Grace said with a smirk. “Trouble sleeping?”

I smiled sheepishly. “I was going to see if that warm milk thing really worked.”

She held a finger up. “I have something even better. Want to have a cup of chamomile tea with me?”

Something about Grace’s entire presence was calming. And, strangely, it made me miss my mom. “That sounds lovely, actually. Thanks.”

Several minutes later, Grace placed our teacups down and dropped into the chair opposite me. She took a sip and winced. “Too hot.”

I cradled the teacup in my hand and breathed in the scent. Even the smell of the chamomile was calming.

“So, why can’t you sleep?” Grace asked, her eyes full of empathy.

I blew gently on the tea before taking a tiny sip. “It’s not any one thing. It’s just one of those nights.”

Grace nodded knowingly. “You are going through a lot of change. A new town, a new job.”

“Change can be rough,” I agreed. Then I added, “Rudy told me you lost your husband last year. I’m sorry to hear that.”

She fiddled with the handle of her cup. “We were having ice dam problems, and we’d gotten another storm. Water was leaking into the inn. My husband and Rudy went up on the roof … he slipped …” Her voice trailed off as a vacant look came into her eyes. “My whole world turned upside down.”

“How did you carry on?” I asked.

“I’m a mother. I had to.” She gave a little shrug. “But keeping the inn was tough. Everyone expected me to pack it in. Give up. Sell and move on somewhere else. Even Rudy expected that.”

“But you didn’t. You kept it going.” I motioned to everything around us. “Amazingly, I might add.”

She gave me a tired smile. “At first I didn’t know how I was going to do it. I got overwhelmed thinking about the future. So I focused on getting through one day. And the next day, I focused on getting through that one. And before I knew it, I’d gotten through a year.”

“No small feat.”

“Rudy helped a lot, of course. But I did it for Robert. In his memory. He wouldn’t want our inn sold to strangers. It belonged to his parents, then us, and it is meant to stay in the family forever, passed down from generation to generation.”

I took another sip. The tea was only warm now but still comforting. “And you’ve done it. You showed everyone.”

“So far,” she said with a tinge of unease. “I may look like I have it all together here, but it’s a carefully crafted house of cards. One gust of wind and it could all come crashing down.”

My heart went out to her. She worked so hard. “So, is that why you couldn’t sleep?”

Worry lines took over her forehead, and she stayed silent for a long moment. “Like you, it was a lot of reasons. The inn’s financials aren’t great at the moment. We’re short-staffed. And raising a teenaged boy always has its struggles.” She chuckled, then turned serious again. “Have you ever gotten a feeling of dread and you had no idea why? You just felt like something bad was coming. Really, really bad.”

My mind immediately shifted to the moment in the apartment rental when my gut feeling told me to leave. But from Grace’s expression, she didn’t want a story time from me. Just acknowledgement.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I have.”

Grace nodded, looking off into the distance, and took another sip of tea.

Chapter Ten

Grace’s tea worked, and I was finally able to get a few hours of sleep. But I still had to double down on the under-eye concealer. I slipped on a silky purple blouse and dark gray dress pants. After a dash of blush and some lipstick, I looked in the mirror. Not bad. No one would know I spent half the night awake replaying the same moments over and over like a lunatic.

I entered the dining room, glancing around for people I knew. Aaron wasn’t there, but Isabella was. With a silent groan, I approached her table.

She immediately put a hand over the empty chair like a mean girl blocking a seat on the school bus.

I sighed. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to sit with you. You’re doing fine on your own. I just wanted to take a moment to say that yesterday’s posts got great engagement, and I enjoyed your live stream from the lobby.”

She blinked and waited, like she was expecting an insult.

I continued, “Anyway, I just wanted to say good job and suggest you come back to the inn at three. Santa will be visiting.”

“Okay,” she said simply.

“Okay. Enjoy your breakfast.”

I walked away and let out a relieved breath. Maybe I’d survive this after all.

The pastry selection was thinner this morning. My favorite Danishes were already gone. So I selected an oversized blueberry muffin and a large mug of coffee and settled down at a table as far away from Isabella as I could manage. I was halfway through my muffin when Aaron strolled in.

He tilted his head toward the empty seat opposite me. “May I?”

“Of course.” I took another long sip of coffee, closing my eyes, and reveling in the taste.

Aaron said, “I hope you’re not offended by this, but watching you drink coffee is strangely sexy.”

I nearly choked. “How?”

He loosened his tie a bit. “You just really seem to enjoy it.”

“I do,” I admitted. “I’m a bit of a coffee junkie.”

“There are worse things,” he said, and I agreed.

He looked as handsome as ever this morning in a black suit I hadn’t seen before, which played off of his gelled-into-place blond hair. Unlike me, he looked like he’d enjoyed every minute of a long night’s sleep. I let my eyes gaze across his strong jaw to his full lips.

Trent’s betrayal had messed me up, but what hurt worse was the shock. I hadn’t seen it coming. So when I thought about starting something with a new guy—Ellison, Aaron, or someone else—it scared me. I didn’t trust my own judgment anymore. What if I chose one of them and he ended up hurting me too? It was best to protect myself until I was stronger. Though that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to flirt and fantasize. I was heartbroken, not dead. And every time Ellison flashed me his sexy smile and Aaron gave me a smooth compliment, I felt the fissure in my heart heal a tiny bit.

“So who are we angering today?” I asked.

Aaron chuckled. “Hopefully no one, but the day is young and filled with meetings. And you?”

“I probably will anger someone,” I said, thinking of Isabella. At Aaron’s raised eyebrows, I added, “Long story. But today should be a good day overall. I have to build up excitement for the tree-lighting ceremony tomorrow night.”

“Ah, yes. I saw that on the schedule. You’ll be working that all night?”

I nodded. “I have to live stream it for Christmasville’s worldwide fans.”

A soft smile played on his lips. “Too bad. I was hoping to take you out on a proper Friday night date.”

My heart stuttered. I’d already had dinner with the man, but it hadn’t been an official date. But here he was, offering one.

Resting his elbows on the table, he leaned closer. “I suppose Thursday can be just as fun. Dinner tonight?”

My hand went up to my temple. “Um, I actually don’t know if, um. We have this influencer in town. She may need me to show her around. I don’t really know.”

I’d never fumbled an answer so badly. By the way the smile dropped from his face, he knew I was just pulling words out of my ass.

“Of course,” he said coolly.

I pointed over my shoulder at Isabella who was coincidentally staring right at us. “That’s her right there. She’s also who I meant when I said I would probably anger someone today. We don’t get along well. But—”

“It’s fine,” he said, interrupting my stream of word vomit. “I understand more than anyone that work sometimes takes place in the off-hours too.”

I was ticked off at my own uncertainty. Aaron was handsome, charming, gainfully employed. A nice person to spend time with. But when he’d asked me, Ellison’s face flashed in my mind. And then Trent’s. Then I didn’t want to have dinner with anyone.

Aaron tapped at the face of his watch. “I have to head to my first meeting. I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, definitely,” I said quickly. “Maybe if Isabella doesn’t need me, we can have that dinner after all.”

“Sure,” he said with a weak smile, but it didn’t seem like he believed me.

I’d wanted to leave myself a foot in the door in case my brain unscrambled itself. In the moment, my knee-jerk reaction had been to say no. But I could regret that by tonight. As I peeked over my shoulder and saw Isabella practically drooling as she watched Aaron walk away, I was starting to regret it already.

Carol seemed like her old self when I got to work. She wore a perfectly tailored burgundy suit and had the lipstick and nail color to match. She waved me in as I passed her office.

“How are things going with the influencer?” she asked eagerly.

“Isabella is doing a great job,” I said. I found it a bit odd that Carol never used her name. “I showed her around town yesterday. Then we split up and she went off on her own. Her posts and stories got great engagement. And did you see her live stream from the Christmas Creek Inn?”

“I was too busy,” Carol said. “But if you say she’s doing great, then she’s doing great.”

I loved her confidence in me. But it almost made me feel bad for not telling her the truth about my prior experience with Isabella. That would help no one, though.

“Isabella and I met early this morning at the inn,” I said, leaving out the part about how she wouldn’t even let me sit with her. “She has great plans for today. I also suggested she stop back at the inn at three o’clock for the Santa visit.”

“Great idea,” Carol said. “Remember, the focus needs to be on families. They’re our bread and butter.”

“Definitely. I’ll remind her.”

As I was about to turn away, Carol asked, “You’ll be there too, right? To make sure her live stream goes well?”

I hadn’t been planning on it, but … “Of course! Looking forward to it.”

Carol’s cell phone chirped loudly and she frowned at the name on the screen. I could see it myself. The sheriff.

“Good morning, Kris,” Carol said.

I didn’t know what the sheriff was telling her, but from the look on her face it wasn’t good.

“Send me a photo,” she said in a clipped tone. “And have the parks department take care of it immediately.”

As soon as she ended the call, I asked, “What happened?”

“The vandal strikes again. Someone took it upon themselves to paint our mural wall overnight.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s unfortunate. The contest winner will just paint over all their hard work.”

“I don’t think that kind of effort went into it. It seems to be the work of a childish troublemaker.” She shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “But we’ll have it painted over white within the hour. That will serve as a good canvas for our eventual winner.”

Her phone buzzed as the promised photo came through. I peered over her shoulder as she opened it up.

“See?” she said. “Childish.”

To me, it looked anything but. Someone had splashed red paint across the wall in a wild, careless arc. It had dripped down the cracks between bricks, pooling in dark rivulets that clung and dried to the mortar. It looked like blood. It looked like a threat.

After the jarring morning, the rest of the day seemed to fly by. My plan for increasing our followers had been set in motion and was getting results already. But, of course, more followers meant more comments for me to moderate and respond to. I barely had enough time to dash to Holly’s to grab a sandwich and eat it back at my desk.

My phone dinged with the alarm I’d set to remind me to stop at 2:40. I still had work to do here, but I had to be at the inn for that live stream. Isabella did fine without me, but Carol expected me to be there.

I scrolled through Isabella’s social activity from the morning. She’d seemingly spent the time highlighting several town businesses, which was great. But when I saw a photo of her and Ellison amid the stacks of his bookstore, a pang of jealousy squeezed my heart. I reminded myself that he wasn’t mine and she’d be gone after tomorrow night.

The Christmas Creek Inn lobby was overflowing with guests and families. Little children had already formed a line leading to the large red velvet upholstered chair that Santa would occupy. A basket of candy canes sat on the table beside it, one for each child to walk away with after their quick visit with the big guy.

Grace stood in the corner, wearing a reindeer sweater and nervously biting a thumbnail.

I sidled up beside her. “Everything okay?”

“Now it is,” she said. “But I’ve had a stressful day.”

“What happened?”

“Jack isn’t feeling up to his Santa duties today, but I made a couple calls and thankfully a hero stepped up.”

“The sheriff?” I guessed. He looked the most like Santa.

“No,” Grace said, looking at me like I was crazy. And she was right. Sheriff Kris looked the part but definitely didn’t have the personality to go along with it.

“Ellison Shaw,” she said. “He owns—”

“The bookstore,” I supplied. “I know him. It’s just …” He was ten thousand times too hot to play Santa.

As if reading my mind, Grace chuckled. “We have a fake beard and belly for the handsome fella. But he doesn’t need any help with those sparkling blue eyes of his, does he?”

“He does not,” I said, dreamily.

“What are you doing here?” Isabella spat from behind me. I wondered how long she’d been standing there listening. The last thing I needed was for her to know who I was interested in.

“Carol told me to come,” I said. “No big deal.”

She scowled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“It’s not like that,” I insisted. “You’re doing great.”

She pursed her lips tightly, narrowing her eyes at me. I mentally begged her to stop being petty and just do her job. She got her way. Trent and I were done. I also knew from the grapevine that he’d ended things with her as well. But that wasn’t my fault.

Seemingly coming to some sort of decision, she snapped her phone onto her selfie stick and started recording.

“We’re back at the Christmas Creek Inn, babes, and I have a surprise for you! We have a special guest coming in soon.” Her gaze flicked from the camera to me. “Someone sexy.”

I bristled. That wasn’t what Carol had in mind at all. And what was the point of that? Why look at me? Was she calling Ellison sexy? Or was I just letting her get under my skin for no reason?

She ended the recording and brought the stick back down to her side.

“You need to keep the focus on family-friendly content,” I said.

She rolled her eyes. “Young couples would visit town too. Maybe even groups of singles, like a girl’s trip.”

“Sure, but Carol wants to focus on families in our marketing right now, and she’s the one who’s paying you.”

Isabella clenched her fist. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“Only if you’re having trouble doing it correctly,” I retorted. I knew the words were a mistake as soon as they left my mouth. Isabella was so incredibly thin-skinned, she’d take immediate offense and have a fit.

Predictably, her chest rose up and down as fury coursed through her. She narrowed those beautiful green eyes, then screeched at the top of her lungs, “Why are you such a bitch?!”

It was like one of those record-scratch moments. The whole room stopped to look at us. Tourists I didn’t know and townies I did. Rudy had just walked in from school, his backpack strung over one shoulder. Jack leaned against a cane, his eyes wide. Grace took a few steps away, hoping to distance herself. Angelica, the housekeeper, froze with an armful of folded towels. Aaron, apparently in between meetings, stood with his mouth agape. And Ellison, dressed as Santa, walked out expecting applause and was greeted by silence because everyone’s eyes were on me.

I gritted my teeth. “Can you please act professionally?”

“Professional?” she yelled. “You, Kelsey Hendricks, are asking me to act like a professional? You got me dropped from my agency because your boyfriend liked me better than you!”

A gasp rose from our audience. And my temper went up like the smoke in the chimney. The gloves were off.

Hands on my hips, I snapped, “You were dropped from your agency because you uploaded nude photos to a client folder. And it looks like you haven’t learned how to properly behave in the time since.”

Isabella sneered, her filler-bloated lips curling. “Have you learned how to keep a man?”

A chorus of “Ooh” went through the room.

I put my hands up. “This is beneath even you. Stop it.”

She stepped closer to me. “No, I’m actually really curious. Who’s your man here? Is it the blond hottie in the suit I saw you with at breakfast? Or is it the bookstore owner I met today who asked one too many questions about you?”

“Isabella, stop,” I pleaded. “You’re making a scene.”

“Enough!” a voice boomed from the front door, which stood open.

Isabella and I turned to find Carol, who’d apparently shown up to watch the Santa visit live.

“Damn it,” I said under my breath.

Carol leveled a stern look my way, then said, “Isabella, outside now.”

Sending one last glare my way, Isabella grabbed her selfie stick and followed Carol out. The room’s attention then turned to me. My mouth went dry. I hadn’t even realized it, but my body was trembling. I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea how to save this.

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Ellison boomed, rubbing his padded belly. “Doesn’t anyone want to talk to me?”

All eyes turned to Santa, and the children squealed as he made his way to the chair.

I put my hand on my heart and mouthed, “Thank you.”

He gave me a little nod as he settled onto the red velvet chair.

My hands were still shaking from the confrontation. I slid my phone out of my pocket, ready to text an apology to Carol, but a strange notification caught my eye. I tapped it, opening our Instagram account. My post about the mural contest had a new comment from an obviously fake account with a bunch of random numbers and letters.

It said, simply, “Did you like my artwork?”

Chapter Eleven

The quick walk to the town hall was the longest of my life. Horrible, embarrassing images of the confrontation flooded my mind. Everyone saw. Everyone heard. Now Isabella was filling Carol in on all the dirty details of our previous interactions. And the simple comment about the mural’s vandalism was bothering me more than it should.

I couldn’t believe my new future was crashing down on me already. Sure, this place was quirky and cheesy, but I was happy here. I liked the people. I liked my job. I could picture myself staying here for a long time, maybe even forever if I settled down with the right person. There was so much to look forward to.

And it might be all over.

Stopping before the front door, I turned and took one last look at Main Street. People strolled along the bustling sidewalks, going in and out of stores. I inhaled deeply, imagining the smells of the various restaurants meeting in the cool, crisp air. With a resigned sigh, I pulled open the front door to meet my fate.

The door to Carol’s office was closed, and muffled voices rose from within. Shoulders hunched, I trudged to my own office and dropped into a chair. I should have picked up my work from where I left off before the Santa visit slash apocalypse. But my brain was completely uncooperative. Plus, I didn’t even know if Carol would want me to work. She may have already changed the passwords.

I heard the telltale sound of Carol’s office door opening, and then a moment later the front door slamming. Well, Isabella was gone. Sweat pooled in my armpits while I awaited my fate.

Several long moments later, Carol poked her head in. “My office, Kelsey.”

I swallowed the golf ball that had lodged itself in my throat and followed.

The chair felt uncomfortable beneath me, and I adjusted myself. But there was no escaping Carol’s glare.

She clasped her hands on her desk. “Before I make any sort of statement, I’d like to give you the opportunity to tell your side of the story.”

“Sure,” I squeaked. I had no idea what Isabella had or had not told her. But at this point, the best I could do was the truth.

I gripped the arms of the chair tightly. “At my last job, we’d contracted with Isabella for a few clients.”

“I know that,” Carol said. “That’s how I found her, from your agency’s website.”

She needed me to get to the meat of the story. I took a deep breath. “Isabella uploaded a bunch of photos to a client folder and a few of them were … inappropriate photos of her and … my boyfriend.”

Her expression unchanged, Carol asked, “And what happened then?”

“My relationship ended. I quit my job. And Isabella lost her contract with the agency.”

Carol leaned back in her chair, considering me. “Isabella said you walked out of your job.”

“Well, I did quit without notice. But I met with my manager first and she understood my reasons.”

She considered me for a moment. “Did the boyfriend work there too?”

“Yes,” I said.

She nodded slowly, taking it all in. “That kind of outburst that happened today can never happen again. We are a family-friendly town. You need to be a professional at all times.”

“I promise you. Nothing like that will ever happen again. I apologize sincerely.”

Carol tapped her manicured fingernails on the desk. “I’ve been extremely impressed with your work. Until today’s scene at the inn. But, in your defense, that influencer is a nasty piece of work. Just horrid.”

I risked a question. “Did Isabella go home?”

“Of course not,” Carol snapped. “She will finish out the contract that I paid for.”

I tried to hide my considerable shock. Isabella had clearly shown that she was a liability to the Christmasville brand. But arguing with my boss over this point wasn’t the best way to keep my job, now that it was on the precipice.

“I told her to take the rest of the day to cool down,” Carol explained. “She had extra photos she could use to fill her socials for today. But I want her back on the job tomorrow. Obviously, you two are never to be in the same room again. Act like you have restraining orders on each other. Though you will both be at the tree-lighting ceremony, but the crowd will be big enough to buffer the both of you. Steer clear, and she’ll be gone before you know it.”

“I-I can keep my job?” I said, my voice faltering.

“Yes. Just no more drama.”

“I promise,” I said, shooting up from my chair. “You won’t regret this.”

“I’d better not,” Carol grumbled at my back as I left.

As soon as I was gone, I realized I hadn’t told her about the online commenter asking about their so-called artwork. But Carol wanted no more drama today. And she hadn’t been too concerned about the vandalism anyway. So I deleted the comment, blocked the user, and moved on.

On my way home after work, I stopped by the pizza place in town. But instead of getting a slice, I bought an entire pie. It was a bury-your-face-in-an-entire-pizza kind of night. As I carried the to-go box into the lobby of the inn, I realized that while Carol may have forgiven, the people hadn’t forgotten. Guests stopped entire conversations to point at me and whisper.

I nearly burst into tears.

“It’ll be okay,” Grace said, appearing at my side in a Grinch sweatshirt. “Give them a day, something new will happen, and they’ll move on.”

A completely reasonable theory, but it didn’t make me feel better.

“Thanks, Grace,” I said anyway.

I had almost made it to the staircase when I was blocked by an amazingly scented man in a suit. My eyes lifted to his face. “Hi, Aaron.”

“You don’t sound happy to see me,” he noted.

“Please take no offense. I’m not happy to see anyone after what happened here today. I just want to bury my face in this pizza and die. Or sleep. Either one.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Hopefully sleep.”

I cast a rueful look at him. “Now that everyone in town knows my business, you know why I’m not ready to get into a relationship.”

His eyebrows rose. “It was just a dinner invitation, Kelsey.”

I rolled my entire head. “I know, but my brain jumps ahead. And the point stands.”

Aaron turned serious, his mouth hardening into a straight line. “I’m sorry your boyfriend cheated on you. Especially with that screeching nightmare of a person.”

“Thanks,” I said sincerely. “And thank you for calling her a screeching nightmare.”

“That pizza smells amazing, so I’m going to let you go bury your face in it.” He reached out and brushed his hand against mine. “But can I ask one question first?”

“Sure,” I said, straightening.

His eyes looked into mine earnestly. “When you rejected my dinner invitation, was it because of the cheater or because of a certain bookstore owner in town?”

Oh, so he heard all of what Isabella had said.

“The cheater,” I blurted quickly. “As you’ll notice, I’m not having dinner with any bookstore owners tonight either.”

I held the pizza box up high as evidence. Then I started up the stairs before he could see the uncertainty on my face.

As it turned out, eating an entire pizza didn’t make me feel as good as I’d hoped. It, frankly, only made me thirsty and bloated. But now it was Friday morning. A new day. I was still employed. Those were all good things.

Tonight, we had the tree-lighting ceremony. I would make sure our socials presented Christmasville as the family-friendly destination of the season. I would earn this second chance I’d been given.

But as I walked through the front door of the town hall with an optimistic smile, I was greeted by an angry Carol marching out of her office in a pristine white pantsuit.

“Have you heard from the influencer?” she barked.

Was this some sort of test? I shook my head feverishly. “Definitely not. Dual restraining orders. I’m not going anywhere near Isabella.”

She spun her hand in the air. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Kelsey, but I’m being serious. Did you see her at the inn? From afar? At breakfast? Anything?”

“No,” I said, curious now. “I haven’t seen her since … the incident.”

“Well, she hasn’t checked in with me, and she hasn’t posted anything since yesterday afternoon.”

I quickly slid out my phone and went to her Instagram feed. The last photo was a scenic one of the creek path, posted before Santa’s dramatic visit. Her stories had all expired.

Carol began pacing. “If that entitled, whiny brat thinks she can just skip town on the most important day of her contract, she has another thing coming.”

“Maybe her alarm didn’t go off,” I suggested. Isabella had done much worse, so why not a more common transgression.

“But she also said she’d be posting more photos at night, and she never did.” Carol grunted. “She’d better be at the ceremony tonight. She’s supposed to live stream.”

“I’ll be doing a live as well,” I reminded her. “It’s going to be great. Christmasville’s fans will wish they were here!”

“And hopefully they’ll call to make reservations,” Carol added. But then her face darkened. “I already paid Isabella’s contract in full. I hope I didn’t waste the town’s money. Our marketing budget is tight.”

“You could leave her a voicemail threatening legal action,” I suggested.

Carol pointed at my face. “Good idea, as always, Kelsey. I’m going to do that right now.”

I blew out a relieved breath as she stormed back into her office. This was my fault, after all. If we hadn’t had that public argument, Isabella would certainly be doing her job right now. But she probably left early to punish me, figuring Carol wouldn’t go through the legal trouble of fighting her for breach of contract.

She didn’t know Carol very well.

But still. Guilt ate at me as I sat at my desk. If I hadn’t taken the bait. If I hadn’t bruised her fragile ego.

Stop, I said. This wasn’t my fault. Yes, I shouldn’t have had a public argument. But, not to sound like a toddler, she started it. And I tried to stop it, but she was like a runaway train on steroids and Botox.

Plus, I could get the job done without her. In fact, I’d get started right now. I stretched my hands and cracked my knuckles. Time to get people excited for tonight.

And I had to admit, the fact that Isabella was gone a day early was like a Christmas gift for me wrapped in a pretty bow. That low level of anxiety I’d felt all week with her around was gone now. Lifted, like magic. Ding-dong, the witch was gone. Skipped town. And I’d never have to see or deal with her again.

After a solid hour’s worth of work, Carol dipped into my office. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Will you stop by the park and make sure the tree is fully decorated and ready for tonight?”

I nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”

I bundled up with my coat and gloves and started the trek down Main Street toward the park. The sun was a bit stronger today. Icicles dripped rhythmically from awnings, their melt catching the sunlight in tiny bursts of silver. I tucked my hands in my pockets and tilted my face toward the sky for a moment.

When I refocused, I saw a familiar face headed toward me.

Holly strode purposefully in a red wool coat, her dark hair spilling out from under a knit hat.

“Hey,” I said, reaching out to grab her arm as she almost passed by me.

She startled, stopped, and pulled out an earbud. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Where are you headed?” I asked.

“Back to the bakery. It’s the slow time between the breakfast and lunch rushes, so I like to take a quick mental health walk.”

I pointed at her earbuds. “What are you listening to?”

“Death in Derry, that new crime podcast. Have you heard it?”

I chuckled. Of course, Holly would be listening to true crime on her daily mental health walk. “No, I don’t really listen to a lot of podcasts.”

She looked at me like I’d said I don’t breathe air. “Oh, you’ve got to try it. Especially this one. A string of murders in a small town. It’s fascinating.”

Speaking of murders and small towns. Nothing really came out of Mary’s death or Mr. Sudbeck at the inn. Holly had seemed convinced at first that it was no accident. “Do you still think we have a murderer here?”

Holly’s eyes narrowed. “One hundred percent.”

“Does Nick agree?” If the police thought we had a killer in town and they were covering it up, that was completely unethical.

But Holly rolled her eyes. “He thinks I’m paranoid because I watch too many murder shows and listen to too many crime podcasts. But I think that just makes me informed on the topic.” She leaned closer to me. “You’re the one who found both bodies. What do you think?”

“I honestly don’t know. But I’m sure the police are doing their job.”

She let out a harumph. “So, you’re Team Nick, I see how it is.”

“I’m not team anyone,” I said, laughing. “I’m team I need more evidence.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a smile. “I’ve got to get back to work. See you later, Kels.”

She slipped her earbud back in and walked off, but I was stuck on the fact that I had a nickname. I wasn’t New Girl anymore. I was Kels. Did that mean we were officially friends? I was excited because Holly was so effortlessly funny and cool. And this meant I was starting to put down roots here.

I let that warm feeling fill me. And cover the more chilling one. The worry in the back of my head that Holly was right. Because if we did have a killer in town, they might not be done.

Chapter Twelve

My stomach growled like a dog at a cat party. I hadn’t even realized it was almost time for lunch. After checking to see that the tree was properly decorated, the stage set, and everything ready for the lighting ceremony tonight, I’d come back to the office and worked my fingers to the bone. Our numbers looked great. We had a lot of interest drummed up for tonight. Pleased, I sat back in the chair and thought about what I wanted to do for my lunch break.

I’d finished the mystery novel I’d been reading, which was as good of an excuse as any to visit Snow Village Books—and its owner. I stopped by the restroom to fix my lipstick and check that everything else looked presentable in the mirror. Then I grabbed my bag and headed out.

Snow Village Books had the cutest window display. New releases were snuggled in the snow slash cotton balls. Stars and colored lights hung down from the sky slash top of the window. And a small menorah sat surrounded by Hanukkah children’s books. It was, all in all, festive and delightful.

The inside was even better. First, the scent. I’d always loved the smell of new books, but here it was mixed with balsam and pine. Even better. A stocking was pinned to the end of each aisle, and they’d obviously been decorated by children. The centerpiece of the store was a six-foot-tall Christmas tree made of books. I circled it in awe, wondering how long it took to create the arrangement.

“Can I help—” Ellison came out of an aisle and stopped short. “Oh, Kelsey.”

Thankfully, I heard no disappointment in his voice. Only surprise. I didn’t know what to expect after yesterday’s debacle. He wore khakis and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I found myself gazing at his forearms.

Focus, Kelsey. I pointed at the book tree. “This is amazing.”

He puffed up with pride. “I got the idea from Pinterest.”

I smirked. “Did you now?”

He gave me one of his slow grins. “See? I know websites and stuff.”

I did my best to hold back a giggle. “Color me impressed.”

He folded his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the nearest shelf with a casual confidence that made my heart skip a beat.

“So why are you in my lovely establishment today?” he asked.

“Two reasons.” I held up two fingers, in case neither of us could count. “First, I wanted to thank you for helping me during yesterday’s disaster.”

“That was Santa Claus. Not me,” he said with a wink.

I gave a sharp laugh. “Well, if you see Santa, please tell him that I was about to have a mental breakdown with everyone staring at me. So, when he regained control of the situation, I found it very helpful. And I appreciated that.”

“I will tell him.” His smile faltered as his expression turned serious. “I’m sorry that happened. What a mess. Did Carol kick her out of town?”

“No, surprisingly. She wanted Isabella to finish out her contract, which ends after the tree-lighting ceremony tonight. But apparently Isabella left town anyway. Carol hasn’t seen her. She’s not responding to messages. And she hasn’t posted since yesterday.”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Probably for the best.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“And, may I ask, are you in trouble with Carol?”

I heaved a breath. “I think I’m on thin ice, so to speak.”

“That’ll thicken up before you know it,” he said confidently.

I only wish I felt as sure. I let my eyes roam the store. “I hope so. I wouldn’t want to leave now that I’ve … met so many wonderful people.” I brought my gaze back to his.

A long pause followed.

“Two?” he prompted at last.

Panic fluttered in my chest. Two what? Did he think I meant two people? Isabella had mentioned Aaron as well during her tirade. He must have heard that.

At my obvious confusion, Ellison elaborated. “You said you had two reasons for coming to the store today.”

“Oh! Of course. Yeah.” I took a moment to reset my brain. “Reason number two is that I need a new book.”

“Now that is something I’d love to help with.” He clapped his hands together and stepped closer to me. “What do you like to read?”

I ticked off on my fingers. “Romance. Mystery. Horror. Comedy.” I raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Got anything that’s all four?”

He gave me a long look and asked, his voice deep and low, “You’re not going to make it easy for me, are you?”

Suddenly, I wasn’t quite sure we were talking about books. “Yesterday, during the argument, Isabella said that when she was here you asked about me.”

His eyes locked onto mine. “Do you mind if I did?”

“No,” I said honestly. If I hadn’t been in the middle of my second biggest career disaster to date, I would have been immensely flattered. “But I’m curious to know what you asked.”

He gave me a small shrug. “The typical things. How long you’ve worked together. What it was like to work with you. Have you always been this ugly.”

A laugh escaped from my lips. “I bet I would have known her answer to that last one.”

“It became clear that she wasn’t your biggest fan,” he admitted. “I chalked it up to jealousy.”

I snorted. “That would be flattering, but I think it was more of a general psychosis.”

He grinned, then turned around and sauntered away. As much as I appreciated that view, I immediately missed his closeness. We hadn’t even been touching, but it still felt like an absence when he walked off. I couldn’t understand how I felt about this man I barely knew. Any time I saw him, I wanted to be near him. I felt pulled to him.

“Found it!” He popped out of an aisle, a paperback book held high.

“What’s that?” I asked, breathing easier now that he was back by my side.

“It’s the perfect book for you. A real genre-bender.”

I took it from his hand, and our fingers brushed against each other. It was only the slightest touch, but it felt electric. Heat creeped up my neck and into my cheeks. I pulled the book to my chest and cradled it like an invaluable object.

“Ring me up,” I whispered.

“You’re not even going to read the back?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“I trust you.”

His smile widened. “That’s good to know.”

I followed him to the register, even more impressed as I saw the entire store. “Did you run a bookstore in your last town too?”

His easy demeanor vanished as his face shut down. He punched a few buttons and announced. “Nine dollars.”

This dude really did not like to talk about his past. I should have gotten the hint, but for some reason it made me want to know even more.

I slid my credit card through the reader, the little beep too loud in the quiet moment. He bagged the book with practiced hands, folding the top of the paper bag just so.

I glanced at my phone. I only had time to grab a quick sandwich and bring it back to my desk. Today was not the day to test how thin my ice was with Carol. But, still, I wanted more time with him. I want to dig into that closed-off part of him.

“I’m heading to Holly’s next,” I said, trying to sound casual. “For lunch. Would you … want to join?”

His blue eyes lifted to mine, the spark I loved flickering back into them. “I would, but I can’t. Alma’s day off.”

Damn it, Alma.

As if summoned by the crushed little hopes, the bell above his door jingled as a pair of customers strolled in.

“Okay, well, some other time,” I said, walking backward. I didn’t know why this man had me so flustered. But even the smallest amount of time spent with him made me feel lit up from within. He was healing a heart he didn’t break, and soon I’d be ready to move forward.

He smiled coyly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

I racked my brain and came up with nothing. “Am I?”

He held up a little bag with the Snow Village Books logo. “Your book.”

“Oh!” I dashed forward and grabbed it out of his hand. “Thanks.”

A middle-aged mom stepped between us. “Do you have that new book with the white cover and the thing on it? It might be a flower. Or a chair.”

I took the opportunity to run out of there like the building was on fire. Thank you, Queen of Vague Descriptions.

Once I was back on the sidewalk, I immediately felt better. The crisp air cooled my fevered cheeks. It was for the best that he couldn’t join me for lunch. I shouldn’t take too much time off, especially not today.

But before I could start to feel too normal, I got a tingly feeling at the back of my neck. Someone was watching me. I slowly risked a glance over my right shoulder, hoping and praying it was only my imagination and that creepy trucker hat guy wasn’t behind me.

He wasn’t.

But someone was.

Susie, Ellison’s ex, glowered at me from across the street. What the hell? Did she stake out his bookstore all day to see who went in and out? Or was she following me?

I shook it off and started the quick walk to Holly’s Bakery. I shouldn’t let my imagination run away from me. Just because Susie had been standing there looking like a stalker, that didn’t mean she was one. She could have just walked out of a store herself, seen me, and cast a nasty look.

But as I walked into Holly’s and joined the ordering line, she followed me.

I tried not to overreact. Maybe she coincidentally wanted the same thing for lunch at the same time. I kept my eyes forward, pretending to be deeply invested in today’s specials on the blackboard. I would not engage. I would not turn around. I would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d rattled me.

But then she tapped on my shoulder.

I turned around and plastered on a fake smile. “Susie! Good to see you again.” Up close, she truly was beautiful, with flawless skin and a perfectly up-tipped nose.

“Are you dating him?” she asked, her voice low.

I looked around the café, like my mystery boyfriend was in here. “Who?”

“You know who,” she said. “Don’t play games with me.”

“I’m not dating anyone right now,” I said, emphasis on the last two words.

She took a step closer, completely invading my personal space. “Can I give you a piece of advice? Woman to woman?”

“Can I say no?” I deadpanned.

She scowled. “Good luck with him. You may be drawn in now. I remember how it was. A handsome face with a mysterious past. It’s intoxicating. But it’s not worth it.”

My stomach clenched. Her description did sound very familiar. But Ellison and I were not Ellison and Susie. “Your relationship with Ellison is really none of my business,” I said gently.

“You’re right. But I’m just warning you. You’ll never get past those walls. He will never let you in.”

I tried to keep my expression flat. I didn’t want her to know she’d hit on the one flaw I’d managed to find in him. “Thank you for your concern.”

My heart sped up, and I’d started to sweat. This was giving me flashbacks from yesterday. I didn’t want to make another scene in a public place. I couldn’t handle that.

“Thanks again,” I said, my voice cracking. “Have a great day.”

I turned around, hoping she wouldn’t continue spewing dark things about Ellison at my back. Thankfully it was my turn to order.

Holly raised her eyebrows. “Making friends, I see.”

“Not quite yet.” I managed a smile. “Give me time.”

“Don’t let her bother you. The tree is on, but half the lights are burnt out, if you get what I’m saying.” She made a twirling motion in the air with her finger pointed at her temple.

I was taken aback. Was Holly saying this right in front of Susie? Holly definitely seemed the type not to care what others thought, but damn, girl. I glanced over my shoulder, ready to see smoke coming out of Susie’s ears, but she was gone. She’d apparently left when I’d turned my back to her. Which meant she’d had no intentions of ordering after all. She’d come in here for one reason only. To warn me.

Chapter Thirteen

It was easy to push Susie’s words out of my mind because I was so busy at work. Carol was in and out of the office all afternoon. She kept leaving to supervise the setup of the ceremony. Unfortunately, we didn’t have an assistant at the front desk yet because Carol hadn’t replaced Mary and the temp agency hadn’t sent someone today. So I had to fill in while I did my own work. I’d never answered the same questions so many times in a row. Bills could be paid in the collector’s office. Permits could be obtained by the town clerk upstairs. I even had a couple of dog license requests.

But soon enough, it was five o’clock and the building was officially closed. I finished up my work and took a moment to respond to some texts. My message to my parents kept timing out. My phone had been glitchy all day since it had run a big update. I hated that. The phone would be working perfectly. Then the system forces an update and it’s glitch after glitch.

I groaned and put it back in my purse. I could try again later. My folks were probably asleep now anyway, on the other side of the globe. A much warmer side.

All of the restaurants in town were fully booked, the first sign that peak season was here. I grabbed a salad to go from the pizza joint and ate it back in my hotel room. Then I changed out of my office clothes. I’d have to be outside tonight for at least an hour. This required layers. I pulled on a T and a gray wool sweater. Then I paired it with the jeans that flattered my butt the most, thick socks, and winter boots.

A text lit up my phone.

Carol: Where are you?

I glanced at the time. It was 7:10. The ceremony didn’t start until 8, and I’d assumed getting there around 7:45 would work. Apparently not.

Me: On my way.

Carol: Bring me a coffee.

I was a social media manager, not her secretary. But this wasn’t the time to push back on that.

Me: Sure.

The lobby of the inn was bustling. I didn’t even bother to wave at Grace on my way out. I’d never seen her so harried. Main Street was even busier, with most of the foot traffic headed toward the park. It looked like all of our work hyping up the event was paying off. I bought a coffee to go for Carol and headed into the crowd.

The masses had already started to assemble in the park, which looked like a festive haven. Glowing lampposts were wrapped in garland. The high school band played holiday songs in the gazebo, which was strung with twinkling white lights and draped in red ribbon and pine garland. A small stage had been erected between the gazebo and the tree, which was shrouded in darkness and hidden behind a large, dark screen on wheels. Apparently, Christmasville took their tree reveals seriously.

Carol was hovering near the stage, talking in low tones to Sheriff Kris.

“Everything okay?” I asked as I approached.

She turned to me and grabbed the coffee from my outstretched hand. “Of course. Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem. What else do you need?”

Her eyes scanned the area. “Everything looks good. The crowd is as big as ever. Take some pics and obviously go live from our account when it’s time.”

“Absolutely,” I said.

She pointed at an area in the front row. “You should get your spot now. Don’t let anyone push in front of you. We’ll roll the screen away just before the countdown. Santa will be on stage with me, so get video of us counting down. Then focus on the tree. When the lights go on, there will also be spotlights beneath it. It’s going to be beautiful. Then pan the crowd to show how many people are here.”

“Got it.”

I left Carol’s side and found a spot in the front row that would give me the best view. Officer Nick was there in uniform, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the crowd. The scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider wafted from nearby vendors.

I gazed around and was impressed by the number of people who’d showed up. Couples held hands, their breath visible in the chill. Children clutched hot cocoa cups and waved glowsticks. Grandparents stood beside strollers. I panned my phone’s camera across the crowd and posted the panoramic photo to the account’s story with a tease that we’d be going live soon.

A warm buzz of excitement filled the crowd as the band ended their rendition of “O Holy Night,” and Carol took the stage. She wore a royal blue pantsuit that contrasted beautifully with the streaks of gray in her hair. She stepped up to the small podium and adjusted the microphone.

“Thank you for coming to Christmasville’s tree-lighting ceremony!” she called with her arms held out wide.

The crowd politely clapped.

“I’m Mayor Carol, and I’m so happy to have you here. But I think I need some help with the countdown. Who do you think should help me?”

Children started shouting from the audience.

Carol held a hand up to her ear. “Did I hear someone say Santa?”

The kids screamed, jumping up and down. I had to hand it to her. She knew how to work a crowd.

Carol cupped her hands around her mouth. “Ohh, Santaaa!”

The crowd roared as Santa himself came on stage. I was close enough to tell that it was Jack. He waved at the crowd, then placed his hands on his protruding belly and called out a loud “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

Meanwhile, a couple of helpers pulled the screen out of the way. The immense tree loomed, shrouded in darkness, its outline just visible against the starlit sky. I was a full-grown adult and still found myself giddy with anticipation.

It was too bad Isabella wouldn’t be expanding our reach to her followers. As much as I disliked her, she’d done a good job the previous two days. I scrolled quickly to her account to see if anything new had been posted. But it was only the same creek photo from yesterday.

Carol gave me a look, and I knew that it was time. As she and Santa continued to hype up the crowd, I went back to our account’s page and hit “live.”

Nothing happened.

“What the hell?” I muttered.

“We’re hoping you can help us count down from ten,” Carol said. “And then Santa will magically light up the tree! Can you help us count?”

The kids in the crowd squealed and screamed happily.

I hit “live” again. Still nothing. It was like my phone had lost its signal. My only hope was to reboot, catch a new signal, and hope that Carol didn’t fire me for missing the, um, lighting part of the tree-lighting ceremony. I swore I would never allow my phone to do an update ever again.

Holding the power button down, I forced a reboot. “Damn it all to hell.”

I was so glad Isabella had skipped town. I could only imagine the snickering if she were standing beside me watching my failure in action.

My phone started coming back to life as Carol and Santa led the crowd in counting down from ten. Thankfully, Carol wasn’t looking my way and noticing my phone not held up and pointed at the tree.

“Five … Four … Three …”

I opened the app, willing it not to glitch.

“Two …”

The app opened to our feed, and I redirected it to our account’s page.

“One!”

I hit “live.”

With a sudden brilliance, the tree burst into color. Hundreds of multicolored lights blinked to life, casting a warm, magical glow that danced off the faces of the crowd. The star at the top illuminated last, shimmering against the night sky. Gasps and cheers erupted.

Then came the screams.

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed something nestled in the branches that shouldn’t be there.

A body.

Chapter Fourteen

I brought the phone down to my side and prayed that the “live” hadn’t caught that. But, no, it was still loading. I silently thanked the universe for turning my phone into a brick at just the right moment.

Carol, Santa, and a few other townspeople rushed to roll the screen back so visiting families wouldn’t have to see. Already, several parents blindfolded their children with their hands. Nick and Sheriff Kris were telling people to back up. Though the crowd was mostly dispersing by itself. Terrified screams had that effect on people.

I stepped closer to the tree. Isabella lay tucked between branches, her neck at an unnatural angle. She wore the same outfit from the day before, though it was drenched in blood. Even from here, I could see the red slashes across her torso.

Isabella had been stabbed. Repeatedly.

This wasn’t a slip and fall. And the truth could not be denied.

Christmasville had a killer.

I put a hand over my mouth, muffling the strangled cry that tried to escape. Isabella was dead. Isabella had been murdered. I felt paralyzed, unable to move or even think properly.

Carol rushed up to me, her face pale. “Did the world just see that?”

“No.” I pushed the word through my tightened throat. “I actually had technical difficulties.”

Carol clutched her chest in relief. “Well, thank goodness for that.”

“But other people might have,” I said. “Pictures and videos from the crowd are sure to go viral at any moment. Should we put out a formal statement?”

Carol was shaking her head before I even finished my sentence. “Go dark until you hear from me. No posts of any kind.”

I nodded. That was probably for the best until we had more information. Carol rushed off to talk to the sheriff, who was busy trying to keep people away from his crime scene. “That’s her. That’s the one she fought with,” a woman said to her husband with an outstretched finger pointing at me.

I stiffened. And it suddenly occurred to me that it might be very bad that so many people had seen me argue with Isabella, and then she’d turned up dead.

Hurrying home, I kept my head down the rest of the way. The lobby of the inn was loud with chatter as people shared what they’d seen and heard. I dashed by, hoping not to gain any attention. I locked and deadbolted my door, changed into pajamas, and burrowed under the covers.

It was too early for sleep, but I needed a distraction or I’d see nothing but Isabella’s body beneath my eyelids all night long. I scrolled through TV channels, briefly stopping at a Christmas romance movie, but I already felt like I was living my own confusing one. Then I stopped on a true-crime doc, felt the same, and shut it down.

My parents texted, wanting to know how living in my “favorite, magical place” was going. But I couldn’t respond. I didn’t want to admit that it had turned into a nightmare.

Sleep came fitfully through the night, a chunk here and a chunk there. I dealt with my share of guilt for assuming Isabella and her bruised ego had skipped town. Then there were the nightmares that the killer would target me next. My phone had run a patch update overnight, so at least that was fixed.

It was Saturday, so I didn’t have to work. But I couldn’t sleep in. My brain kept spiraling. Giving up, I went downstairs and grabbed a muffin and coffee to bring back up. I did not want to sit at a table and risk overhearing people talk about me. Or, even worse, have someone stop by my table to chat. I didn’t want to talk to anyone.

When I got back to my room, the phone was ringing. Not my cell, but the hotel room phone. Who would even have that number?

I picked up the handle. “Hello?”

“Kelsey Hendricks?” A somewhat familiar gravelly voice asked.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Sheriff Kris Whitman. I was hoping you could come down to the station this morning and help us fill in some blanks on your deceased coworker.”

I held back a sigh. That was actually the last thing I wanted to do. But I had to try to help.

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Christmasville’s police station was off the main drag, down a side street. It was a small, squat building tucked in between the library and the historical society. I’d never seen a station so tiny, but I assumed that—until recently—they hadn’t had much crime in town.

The receptionist was on the phone when I arrived, her voice flustered and nervous. “We have no statement at this time. Press conference? Oh, I don’t know about that.”

It sounded like little Christmasville was about to meet big media.

Carol walked out of the sheriff’s office, looking as disheveled as I’d ever seen her. They must have called her in too. Once she saw me, she headed over.

“Kelsey, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Still a little shaken up,” I admitted.

She nodded knowingly. “I just stopped by to see if Kris knew anything yet.”

Oh. So they hadn’t called her in.

“Could they identify Isabella’s killer?” I asked. “It’s a little too coincidental that now three bodies have been found in the past few days. Could this be the work of a serial killer?”

She scoffed. “We don’t have a serial killer, Kelsey. The other two were accidents, we know that.”

Actually, we didn’t.

“And as far as Isabella goes,” she continued calmly. “I’m sure the killer is not from Christmasville.”

My brow furrowed. “What makes you say that? Do they have video or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” she said with a wave of her hand. “But it’s just common sense. All of those influencers have stalkers. And nine times out of ten, when something like this happens, it’s a lunatic ex-boyfriend. Someone followed her to town, killed her, and left. The public is safe.”

But there was no evidence of that. I read between the lines. Carol didn’t want tourists to think we had a serial killer and flee, so we didn’t have a serial killer. Simple as that. She was turning into the mayor from the Jaws movie.

“If the public is at risk—” I started.

But she cut in. “Kelsey, our reputation is the town’s most valuable asset. We are a family destination. Thanksgiving is in five days. If news spreads, it could kill the entire season for Christmasville!”

Carol was living in a dream world if she thought she could push this under the rug like the other two. News vans would be here any minute. The dispatcher was already fielding media calls. Unlike the first two deaths, this one had been displayed in front of a hundred people and their phones.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop news like this,” I said. “Isabella was found in the town’s Christmas tree during the lighting ceremony. It’s a headline writer’s dream. Cell phone footage has already gone viral on social media.”

Faced with the truth, her expression crumbled. “Do you know how many businesses could go under?”

I thought about Grace and Rudy, Holly and Nick, Ellison. The hardship they could face if the tourists fled.

“I don’t know what to do.” Carol looked at me like I could serve up a holiday miracle on a platter.

“I don’t either, Carol,” I said sadly.

The sheriff poked his head out of his office and waved me down the hall. “Miss Hendricks!”

“I have to go.” I put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We’ll get through this. We’ll figure something out.”

Carol nodded solemnly and headed toward the front door while I walked down the hall to the sheriff.

“Thanks for coming down to talk with us,” he said.

I took my coat off and folded it over my arm. “Of course. I’ll help in any way I can.”

Rather than heading back into his office, I followed him down the hall into another room. It was small and dreary, with only a table and two chairs. I sat in one and Kris took the one facing. Nick followed us in, closing the door behind him, and stood leaning against the wall in the corner.

“Hi, Nick,” I said.

He nodded. “Kelsey.”

I adjusted myself in the seat, trying to get more comfortable. “So, do you think this is related to Mary’s death or Mr. Sudbeck at the inn?”

Kris said gruffly, “We’ll ask the questions here, Miss Hendricks.”

I blinked quickly, taken aback by his sharp tone. Apparently, Sheriff Kris was playing bad cop. My eyes went to Nick, who seemed a bit more clearheaded.

“We have no reason to believe that they’re related at this time,” Nick said.

Kris sent a quick glare his way, apparently unhappy that he’d answered my question. Then he returned his attention to me. He clicked his pen and flipped open a notebook.

“You had a history with Isabella Redstone,” Kris said. “You two were enemies.”

The room tilted as realization dawned on me. There was a reason Kris didn’t bring me into his office. I was in an interrogation room. I wasn’t here to help them fill in blanks. They thought I did it.

“You can’t think I had anything to do with this,” I said, incredulous.

Kris stared, unblinking. “You have the biggest motive.”

My mouth opened and closed. “We did not like each other. But that’s not a reason to kill somebody. If everyone went around killing whoever they didn’t like, the world would be depopulated in a month.”

The corner of Nick’s mouth rose slightly, but Kris was undeterred.

“The fact remains,” he said, “we have several witnesses claiming to see you argue with Miss Redstone only hours before her death.”

“Exactly!” I slapped my hand on the table. “Why would I kill someone after a huge public argument? I’d have to be the dumbest murderer on earth.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Or you’d think having a public argument would make us eliminate you for that reason. Maybe that was part of the plan.”

“Are you serious?” I practically screamed. I took a breath and told myself to calm down. Shouting at the sheriff wouldn’t help improve his apparently low image of me.

“I have an alibi for the entire day,” I said calmly. “Carol can tell you. I was working right up until the lights came on at the ceremony.”

“And what about the night before?” he asked.

I paused. “She was killed Thursday night?”

Kris nodded slowly. “That is what the state medical examiner has concluded.”

“How is that possible?” I asked, confused. “People would have seen her in the tree during the day.” Multiple people had checked on the tree, including myself and Carol.

Kris hesitated, like he didn’t want to share the information. But Nick spoke up. “Her body was moved into the tree at the last minute. We found some pooled blood in the crawl space beneath the gazebo. She may have been killed at the park and stored under the gazebo. Then dragged out and placed in the tree.”

And with the tree behind that giant screen, no one would have seen.

“So, again, Miss Hendricks,” Kris said. “Where were you Thursday night?”

I thought back and realized with a sinking feeling that I had no alibi whatsoever. “I was in my hotel room, alone, unfortunately. But do you really think that I could lift Isabella and heft her into that tree?” This was the one time that I didn’t mind being the shortest person around.

Kris remained skeptical. “She was tall but underweight. Not much to her. My nine-year-old could have done it.”

Then interrogate her, I stopped myself from quipping.

I leaned back in the chair. I came down here because I wanted to help. But now I knew that I was a suspect, maybe even their top one. There was no reason for me to sit here and listen to another minute of this nonsense.

I cleared my throat and spoke strongly. “You have no evidence that I was involved in this, other than an argument I had with Isabella. If you’re going to arrest me, I’d like a lawyer. If you’re not going to arrest me, I’d like to leave.”

Kris’s nostrils flared, but the law was the law.

“You are free to leave,” he said. “But don’t leave town.”

I grabbed my coat and bag. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Chapter Fifteen

Back in my hotel room, I made a quick call to my brother. Since this was becoming a national story, I wanted him to hear it from me. We both agreed to keep the information from our parents. We didn’t need them worrying needlessly half a world away. I doubted they were spending too much time reading the news. But if word about a Christmasville murder made its way to the cruise ship, I’d deal with it then.

After hiding in my room for the rest of the day, I knew I didn’t want to spend another night tossing and turning. So I decided to do something I hadn’t done in a very long time. I decided to get absolutely, rip-roaring, forget-who-I-am drunk.

I had to drive to the liquor store since it was on the edge of town. I was sure Carol liked that. It was accessible but not sullying the family-friendly downtown area. As I passed the park, I saw several news vans. Crews were stationed by the gazebo, no doubt broadcasting the setting of Christmasville’s “grisly murder.” If Carol saw this, she’d have a stroke. But it was inevitable. The story was out.

I passed a steep, lighted hill where families were sledding and tubing. A horse farm advertising sleigh rides tickled my memory. I was sure I’d visited there with my family. Finally, I reached the town’s only liquor store, Merry Spirits.

Despite the garish neon sign, inside the store was decorated with bright, red poinsettias and a fresh-smelling, fully decorated Douglas fir. I explored the aisles, passing by the red and white wines. Tonight was for liquor. I settled on a ready-to-drink cosmopolitan mix. This would get the job done. I paid and headed back.

The news vans had thinned out a bit, done with their broadcasts. A salt truck headed down the street, pretreating the roads before the night’s expected snowfall. We were only supposed to get an inch, but Christmasville’s Department of Public Works was already on top of it. Other than a few hand-holding couples, the sidewalks were eerily empty. I parked the car and slogged back to the inn with my bottle of booze.

The lobby was quiet. Logs snapped and crackled from the fireplace, but no one cuddled around it. Grace stood behind the desk, a sullen look on her face that didn’t match the goofy Santa hat–wearing llama on her sweater.

“Hey,” I said as I approached. “How’s it going?”

She glanced up at me but couldn’t produce her usual smile. “Not well. I had two families check out early and two cancellations that were supposed to be arriving tomorrow.” She added ominously, “So far.”

I winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“Tell that to the sheriff.”

Her eyes widened. “They couldn’t possibly think …”

I shrugged. “It’s because of the argument Isabella and I had here. But they have no physical evidence because I didn’t do it. Hopefully, they get the real killer soon so your cancellations stop. In the meantime …” I held up my bottle as an invitation.

Grace grinned. “I’d love to join you, but I have to work the desk.”

“Okay,” I said, understanding. “I’ll be in my room. Like, forever.”

Back in my suite, I threw the deadbolt, stripped out of my clothes, and got into my coziest flannel pajamas. I wasted no time cracking open my evening’s companion. I wasn’t much of a drinker—aside from the four years of college. I actually couldn’t remember the last time I got drunk. But tonight would be a sure thing.

I grabbed the bottle and a box of cheese crackers and brought them to bed. Leaning back on piled-up extra pillows, I pulled the comforter up to my chest and turned on the TV. This was definitely an unhealthy version of self-care, but it was also smart for a couple of reasons. First, because if I walked around town people might whisper and look at me like I was a murderer. Second, because there was an actual murderer somewhere in town. I was much safer in bed alone.

After watching mindless television for a while, the alcohol started to take effect. My eyes went to my laptop. Some small, sober part of my brain screamed, “No! Don’t do it!” But I didn’t listen. I slid the laptop over, opened it up, and navigated to Trent’s Facebook page.

He hadn’t updated since the last time I’d looked. Of course, I could only see whatever was public since I’d unfriended his ass. His Instagram was public, though. I pushed my laptop to the side and grabbed my phone. His account came up and my chest went tight. A new photo. It was a group pic, taken in a bar, and he had his arm tossed casually over the shoulder of a woman I didn’t recognize. Was he with someone new already? Or was this just a group friend pic? Either way, he was happy. He was moving on.

Rage bubbled up inside of me. It wasn’t fair that Trent got to move on while I was stuck with a hurt heart and a fear of starting something new. He was the heart breaker. I was the innocent breakee! The injustice made me want to punch a wall. But learning to trust again wasn’t like a light switch I could just flip on. It was easy to tell myself that these walls I’d built to protect myself were only preventing my future happiness. But even if I knew that to be true, that in and of itself didn’t tear the walls down.

I took another swig from the bottle and let the buzz settle over me.

A knock came on my door. I froze, at first not comprehending the noise, then confused at who it could be. The killer? Wait … had I ordered room service? No, the inn didn’t even have room service. Damn it, my brain was fried.

I looked at the bottle in my hand. It mocked me. Ha ha. You thought I would take your pain away, but I only made you dumb. The knock came again. Then I realized it was probably Grace. She’d finished up downstairs and decided to join me for drunky-time after all. I slid my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, the room swaying.

“Just a minute,” I slurred.

I somehow made it to the door, unlocked the deadbolt, and swung it open. “You’re not Grace.”

Ellison smirked. “No, I’m definitely not.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, sharper than I’d intended. “Not that I mind that you’re here. But not that I’m delighted about it either. But I’m not, not delighted.”

His cheek twitched. “Are you drunk?”

I crossed my arms defensively and accidentally punched my own boob. “Yes. I am. It’s a state of being I haven’t been in since college, but tonight seemed like a good night for it.”

“Well, Nick told me you may have had a bad day. Then Grace said you’d be hiding out up here for the foreseeable future. So, I thought you’d like some food.” He held up a bag.

My stomach growled in response. “What is it?”

“A bunch of leftover pastries that Holly was going to have to throw out at closing. Not a five-star dinner, but—”

I snatched the bag out of his hand. “It’s smells like a Michelin star meal.” I turned and waved at him over my shoulder. “Come on in.”

I wobbled over to the couch and took a seat. Ellison took off his knit hat and ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes scanned the room.

“What do we have here?” he said, inspecting my setup. “A half-gone cocktail mix, cheese crackers, and an episode of Dateline that’s clearly over a decade old?”

“It’s called self-care,” I said, defensively. Though I didn’t think he was being judgy. He may have even been flirty. I couldn’t tell. I was too busy destroying a croissant right over the open bag.

“Thank you for this,” I said between bites. “Do you want one?”

“No, those are all for you,” he said, still kind of awkwardly standing in the middle of the suite.

“You can sit down,” I said, pointing at a chair.

But he remained standing. “I can’t stay. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

I got up, tossing the bag of remaining pastries on the table and unintentionally littering the carpet with croissant crumbs. “Why wouldn’t I be all right? Because Isabella was murdered and half the town probably thinks I did it?”

“Nick doesn’t think so.”

“But his boss does,” I said, my voice faltering. My eyes stung with welling tears. I blinked quickly and willed them away. It was bad enough that Ellison had found me drunk. If I was drunk and crying, he’d practically run from the room.

“Don’t worry about Kris. He just likes to be the tough guy. But he’ll follow the evidence in the end.”

“Is there any evidence?” I asked hopefully.

“Nick can’t share that kind of stuff with me.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But he told you I was questioned.”

“He knew I had a … personal interest.”

In me, he meant. He liked me. My heart fluttered. I took a step toward him, the room tilting slightly, and stumbled.

He caught me before I could fall. His arms circled around my waist, strong and sure. My hands landed on his chest—warm, solid, and much too close. His scent wrapped around me, clean and comforting with a hint of cedar. My breath caught as I gazed up into his sky-blue eyes.

He was achingly handsome. I could feel heat radiating off of him. His heart beat wildly under my palms. Now was the time. No more being scared. If Trent could move on, so could I.

“I deserve to be happy too,” I mumbled under my breath.

“Huh?” Ellison asked, brows drawing together.

But I was already rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips against his.

He stiffened and took a step back, putting distance between us.

Oh no. Embarrassment surged through me, into every cell. My soul tried to eject itself from my body. How could I have gotten this so wrong? He didn’t want me at all.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I thought that you and I …” My voice was shaky, and I was definitely in danger of snot crying. Like this moment could get any worse.

Ellison grabbed my hands and held them in his. “No, Kelsey. You were right … about you and me.”

Now I was more confused than ever. “Then why did you pull away?”

He put his hands on my shoulders like he had important news to deliver. “You may not realize this now. You will in the morning. But you are completely, absolutely shitfaced.”

A laugh burst out of me, confirming this as fact.

His hands drifted up to my face, holding it gently. His thumb brushed my cheekbone as his voice dipped low. “When we kiss for the first time, I want to make sure you mean it. I want to make sure you’re really ready for it. This might be alcohol-fueled bravado.”

“It might,” I admitted.

“And, if we did kiss, it would be nice if you remembered it,” he added.

With every moment that passed and every rotation of the room, I became more aware of the fact that I had overdone it. Tomorrow morning would be terrible. And Ellison was right.

“I am annoyed that you are a gentleman,” I said, “but I will appreciate it when I’m sober.”

He gave me a little grin. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

I leaned on him as we shuffled toward the bed. The room tilted like a bad carnival ride. Ellison pulled the blankets back, and I snuggled in.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I fantasized about you taking me to bed,” I mumbled. “Not that I ever fantasized about that.”

A slow smile curved his lips. He leaned over me, tucking the blanket under my chin, and whispered, “Me too.”

Then he filled up a tall glass of water and left it on my nightstand. “I’ll put the pastries in the fridge. You’ll be glad they’re there in the morning.”

My eyes closed. “Mm, breakfast pastry.”

His lips brushed against my forehead as sleep pulled me under. The last thing I heard was the click of the lock as he closed the door. I thought I heard other sounds through the night. Footsteps padding down the hall and stopping by my door. Someone trying the knob. But it could have been a dream. I hoped it was.

Chapter Sixteen

Waking up was a horror show. First came the memories of the things I’d done and said. Then came the nausea. Then … the vomit. I stumbled out of the bathroom some time later, chugged a bottle of water, and settled in with one of the pastries Ellison had dropped off. My empty—like, completely empty—stomach needed something in it.

After the first croissant and one bite into the second, someone knocked on my door. My heart raced. Could Ellison be back? I reached up and smoothed down my hair, hoping to tame any flyaways. But I needed a lot more help than that. And I was still in my pajamas. Not to mention I probably smelled like puke.

I briefly entertained the thought of pretending I wasn’t here. But if Ellison and I were to ever become something, he’d have to accept me at my highs and my lows. I stood and went to the door, unlocking it, and throwing it open.

Aaron, smartly dressed in a suit, stood waiting with a smile. But it wilted at the sight of me. And as his nose wrinkled, he took a step back. “Are you … okay?”

“Yeah,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Rough night. What’s up?”

His eyes were full of concern. “I heard the police questioned you.”

“Where did you hear that?” I asked. He wasn’t exactly friends with the cops.

He looked up and down the hall, then whispered. “Everyone in this town talks.”

That was the truth. I’d never experienced a faster gossip mill. I let out a sigh. “Yeah, they asked me to come down to the station and answer some questions. It wasn’t too bad.”

Aaron shook his head in disapproval. “Well, I came to tell you that if you need a lawyer, mine can recommend someone for you.”

“That’s very generous,” I said, taken aback. “I’m okay, though. They have no evidence that I did it, because I didn’t. They just needed to question me because half the town saw my argument with Isabella.”

He grimaced. “That was unfortunate.”

“Thank you, though, for the offer,” I said, and I meant it. Aaron was sweet. And he’d been there for me, more than once now.

He looked me up and down. “Can I get you anything? A hearty breakfast?”

I chuckled. “No, thanks. This is nothing a good shower and some Advil can’t cure.”

“We’ve all been there,” he said knowingly. Then he leaned in, his eyes glinting. “Next time, invite me.”

“Maybe I will,” I said with a little laugh. Then I waved him off and relocked the door.

I looked down at my pajamas, covered in cheese cracker dust and smelling like a gym locker room. I had never needed a shower more in my life.

Thirty minutes later, I was a new woman, clean-smelling and fresh. The pounding headache had receded. My stomach was sated. And I made the big move of wearing real clothes—a comfy sweater and soft jeans.

My phone showed three missed calls from Carol. It was Sunday, no work, so that couldn’t be good. I didn’t know why people called back again rather than text a message. With a groan, I sat down and returned her call.

“Kelsey!” she answered with more perk than I was ready for.

I winced and pulled the phone a bit away from my ear. “Hi, Carol. How are you?”

“Great, just great. Listen, you and I are going out tonight.”

I nearly choked. “What was that?”

“The town was dead last night. Canceled restaurant reservations, low sales in the stores, empty streets.”

Did she not remember we had a murder the night before that? With a public display of the corpse at a family event we’d been promoting for days? I opened my mouth to speak, but she rattled on.

“It’s up to us, the townspeople, to line the streets and support our local businesses. Keep that merry Christmasville vibe alive. Tourists need to see that the town is safe.”

“Is it, though?” I dared to ask.

“Of course it is,” she snapped, like I’d asked if one plus one equals two. “What happened to that influencer was a tragedy, but domestic disputes happen, and unfortunately the guy followed her into our town. But he’s gone now. The public is safe.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Did the sheriff tell you this? They know who it was?”

“No, I’m just going by statistics. The vast majority of female homicide victims are killed by family members or partners. But listen, we’re getting off track here. I’m asking every business owner, every employee, everyone who has a stake in Christmasville’s success to hit the streets tonight. Unless you’re working, you should be browsing, eating, walking. We need to show the tourists that we’re still a safe, happy town.”

I hesitated. “I had planned on just relaxing in my hotel for the evening.”

Carol sniffed in disapproval. “We residents really need to stick together, Kelsey. We need to support each other and our small, family-owned businesses.”

My heart lifted at her inclusion of me as a resident. And, of course, I wanted to support others in town. But how did we know the killer wasn’t still here? Would we be safe?

“Are others on board?” I asked.

“The streets will be full,” she assured me. “And you and I will be together the whole time. Completely safe.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Okay, what time?”

Carol and I agreed to meet at eight for an evening stroll. I was glad I didn’t have to sit through an hour-long meal with the Jaws mayor on steroids, but apparently she’d already roped someone else into the dinnertime slot.

I came downstairs to find her waiting for me in the lobby. She was talking the ear off a young family, telling them about all the fun they could have this week. The wife looked nervous, but the children’s eyes were alight with stories of sledding and skating, Santa and cookies. How could they cancel now? She truly was a born salesman.

Jack was behind the desk. He waved me over. “I’m stuck here on this screen, and I don’t know what to do.”

I took a quick look at the computer, hit the escape button, and the software went back to the main page.

Jack blew out a relieved breath. “You’re a genius, Kelsey, thank you. I usually only work with a hammer. Tech stuff is not for me.”

I looked around the lobby. “Where’s Grace?”

“She and Rudy are having dinner at the Golden Spoon.”

That was sweet, a mother and son dinner date. No doubt encouraged by our mayor.

Her conversation finished, Carol headed over to me. “Ready?”

“How does it look out there?” Jack asked.

“As busy as any Sunday night in November,” she said proudly. “Restaurants booked, streets full.”

Her plan worked. Hounding usually did. But as I thought about it, her plan had a positive secondary effect. It would make the town look normal and safe, yes. But it also made it more safe. The killer couldn’t exactly grab someone off Main Street with everyone out and watching.

We took the creek path to Main Street, which at first sounded scary. But it was well-lit and busier than the night Mary had taken a bonk to the head. When we passed someone Carol didn’t know, she gave them a smile and said, “Lovely evening.” When we saw someone she did know, it was a lot more involved. It gave me flashbacks to grocery shopping with my mother when I just wanted to get home and she kept running into friend after friend.

When we finally reached Main Street, Carol beamed. People strolled along the sidewalks, happily carrying their purchases. Tinny holiday music leaked from stores and restaurants as people opened and closed doors. Christmasville looked like its regular self.

“Care for a candy cane cocoa?” Carol suggested.

There was a sharp chill in the air, and a hot drink in my belly sounded soothing. “Sure!”

Candy Cane Dreams was a sweets shop that I surprisingly hadn’t had time to pop into yet. The walls were brightly painted in pastel colors. Rows of chocolates and fudge tempted customers from inside glass cases. An intricate model of Main Street in gingerbread form adorned the top of one case. The back wall was covered with containers of candy that you could pick and choose from and pay by the weight. They also, according to Carol, served amazing hot chocolate.

“My treat,” Carol said, paying for two cocoas.

It wasn’t the money that I was worried about tonight. But I guessed if I was going to risk my life to ensure a better economy, it was nice to do it for free.

Each cup came with a candy cane hooked on the rim. I took a sip and could taste just a hint of peppermint as it melted.

“Should we take these outside?” Carol suggested. “Keep walking?”

“Whatever you think,” I said, because I knew my opinion didn’t matter anyway. I just wanted to get my face time in, not die, and huddle back under my covers.

As we strolled, smiling at passersby and looking in windows, I realized that I didn’t know anything about Carol’s personal life. All she talked about was work.

“Are you married?” I asked.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised at the sudden question. “I was once. We knew each other as children, here in town. We went our separate ways for college, found ourselves back here after graduation, and fell in love. But he wanted to leave Christmasville, and I wanted to stay. We couldn’t work it out.”

“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely.

“It was a long time ago.” She inhaled deeply and glanced around. “People fill their lives with family and children. Christmasville is my baby. I love it like a child. I’ll never leave. So, sure, I chose the town over him. But he chose the outside world over me. Same ending, either way.”

She didn’t sound sad as much as resigned. “Have you ever thought about marrying again?” I asked.

Carol looked at me in horror, as if I’d suggested she stab herself in the eye. “And go through that pain again? No, thank you.”

“Love doesn’t always end in hurt.”

“No, it doesn’t. But when it does …” She let out a low whistle.

I never would have guessed that the thing Carol and I would have in common was our dating life, but here we were. Both hurt and both scared to move on. Though I thought Carol had given up completely. I never wanted to reach that point. I still had hope.

“What about you?” she asked with a glint in her eye. “I’ve heard whispers about Ellison Shaw and that handsome blond businessman.”

“Aaron,” I said, and an involuntary smile came over my face. “He is generous, smart, ambitious, and obviously very handsome. But …”

“But Ellison Shaw,” she filled in with a teasing tone.

“Yes. Ellison Shaw.” I sounded like a lovestruck teenager saying his name. “He’s kind, funny, and equally handsome. But …”

“But the ex-boyfriend,” Carol guessed. “Is there still something there?”

“God, no,” I said with revulsion. “But he may have ruined me for all men.”

She stopped walking and grabbed my arm. Her eyes bore into mine. “Don’t give him that power.”

“But you said … you’re the same … you …” I sputtered.

She released my arm and took in a deep breath. “Listen, Kelsey. There are a lot of things about me you should emulate. My professionalism, my drive for success, my fashion sense. But my personal life? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Learn from my mistakes.”

I swallowed hard. “I’ll try.”

She looked over my shoulder and waved at a trio of women. “And with that, you’re free to go. See you in the morning. We have a lot of work to do.”

“We’re finished for the night?” I asked. “You don’t need me anymore?”

She glanced at her watch. “Well, if you’d like to head to the Silver Bell for drinks with me and three women from the library trustees, you’re welcome to.” She added with a knowing grin, “Or you could head back to the inn by yourself.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “I think I have to head back.”

With the moon bright in the sky and the glimmering lights of Main Street ahead, I didn’t even feel fear as I walked home. But there was no way I was taking that creek path alone. It was road the whole way. Carol may have been convinced that the three deaths were unrelated. But I had a sinking feeling that it was only the beginning. In a town this small, in such a short span of time, how could they not be related?

But what did a visiting salesman, a town hall assistant, and a social media influencer have in common? The victims were male and female, young and old, resident and visitor. They had nothing in common except …

Mr. Sudbeck was a jerk who’d been rude to many people in town. Mary was a grump who spent most of her time complaining. And Isabella had faults no filter could hide.

If they had a connection, it wasn’t about who they were …

It was about what someone thought they deserved.

Chapter Seventeen

Monday morning, after a solid night’s sleep, I felt clearheaded and energized. Nothing bad had happened overnight. Maybe I let my mystery-novel-ridden brain overthink things. I conjured up a serial killer who was knocking off people on Santa’s naughty list. But Carol was probably right. The simplest explanation, according to all of the statistics, was that Isabella was murdered by someone she knew. Except she didn’t know anyone in town except me. So it was most likely an outsider who followed her here. Given her line of work, it could have been an Internet stalker or one of those incels who feel entitled to beautiful women and go nuts when they get rejected. He probably wasn’t even in Christmasville anymore. I needed to stop driving myself mad with outlandish theories and let the police do their job.

And I had to focus on mine. I got into the office early and started working. Strangely, we’d received thousands of new followers over the weekend. I would have loved to take credit, but it was clearly curiosity from the news reports. I began working on a plan for social media posts for the week. But I quickly realized that I didn’t have enough content. Thankfully, it was a sunny day and I could get some good photos later.

I gazed at the event calendar, full of activities I didn’t know if we’d promote. The Choir Concert, the Christmas Ball, the Holiday Parade—every weekend had one banner event. We’d have to take things slow and see how the reservations and cancellations were looking.

Thanksgiving was Thursday. This should have been one of our hottest weeks. I hoped that the townspeople’s efforts last night helped a bit with the rush of cancellations, but we also needed new reservations. And that was something I could help with. I’d kick ass on all of our platforms this week, drive engagement, expand our reach, and do my part.

Keeping busy would also help with the idea of spending Thanksgiving alone. My parents wouldn’t be back until closer to Christmas. My brother invited me to New York to see him, but we were so busy at work, I didn’t want to take multiple days off. So I’d just stay here, alone in a hotel room.

“It’s a glorious day, Kelsey Hendricks!” Carol sang dramatically as she swung into my office.

I leaned back in my chair, smiling. “Why is that?”

She slapped her hand on my desk. “Because we’re back, baby.”

“People stopped canceling?” I put a hand to my chest. I couldn’t believe things had turned around so fast. Just from one night of us walking around town?

“Well, not exactly, but the end result is the same,” she said. “The inns and restaurants are getting calls and filling up with reservations.”

I didn’t understand. “How?”

Carol’s smile turned into a bit of a grimace as she took a seat on the other side of my desk. “Well, it was quite unexpected considering how many families were canceling their reservations. But those losses were more than made up for by new and different guests.”

New and … different? I thought of all the news vans. “Is it media?”

“Media, lookie-loos, morbid rubberneckers.”

“Wonderful,” I said with a roll of my eyes. All we needed was to turn from Christmasville into Murderville.

“Hey, it’s money to keep us all afloat,” Carol said. “The season is saved. This terrible business will fade off the front pages and the families will return.”

I supposed that was true. We could handle a few weeks of murder groupies if dozens of family businesses were saved. And I could do my best through marketing to bring back the families.

“You need to promote hard this week,” Carol instructed. “Beautiful pictures, happy videos. Show all that we have to offer. And moderate those comments with a strong hand.”

“Absolutely,” I said, nodding.

“And we have to start working on plans for the holiday concert this weekend,” she said, almost as an afterthought.

Day-to-day activities were one thing, but I didn’t know if another big town event so soon was in poor taste or not. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She waved at me like I was an annoying fly. “The choir has been practicing year-round for this. We’re not canceling.”

I pointed at the event calendar. “But it says they’re going to sing on the same stage where we found Isabella’s body. I don’t know if people would be comfortable going back to the park for another event so soon.”

“Then we’ll have it somewhere else. We’ll close Main Street to car traffic. It will be beautiful.” Her voice rose with excitement. “All the storefronts and the lights. The choir can sing in the middle of the street and people can line the sidewalks.”

That wasn’t a bad idea. My mind immediately went to planning the photo angles. It could be dazzling, actually.

Carol rose and extended her arms with flair. “You have to always adapt, Kelsey. Adapt or die, isn’t that what they say?”

I nodded encouragingly as she left my office. I knew she’d meant it in a business book type of way, but anything with “or die” in Christmasville right now seemed like foreshadowing. Even still, I knew Carol was right. What happened to Isabella was terrible, but scores of family businesses were depending on us to keep the gears turning so they could put food on the table. I was glad, at least, that the slump had been short-term. Even if it meant that we didn’t have our usual clientele.

My mind wandered. Who would benefit from the town taking a short-term hit in reputation that eventually went back to normal? The only one I could think of was Aaron. He could get the land cheap, and by the time his hotel was built, Christmasville would be back to filling reservations with families rather than morbid curiosity seekers.

I shook the thought out of my head. Aaron was kind and generous. Sure, I’d never seen him in a business meeting. But there was a big difference between being a ruthless businessman and killing people to drive down the price of land. I wouldn’t allow myself to entertain the thought any longer.

Shifting gears, I turned back to work. It was time to check on any new comments and make sure no one had gotten out of line. I hadn’t updated our socials all weekend. Laying low seemed to be the best tactic. But it was time to ramp things back up.

Our last photo on Instagram was a tease of the tree-lighting ceremony with the tree behind the huge screen. That probably had to go. But before I deleted it, I let my eyes scan the comments. A few people mentioned what happened, which was only to be expected. But one comment made the blood freeze in my veins.

Did you like the present I left you under the tree?

The comment itself was sick, but so was the username: TheChristmasKiller. Someone had clearly made an account just to troll us. My stomach churned with disgust. It reminded me of that comment from another fake account that had asked if I liked their artwork—right after the mural had been vandalized. Didn’t people have better things to do than create fake accounts to be cruel?

With a sigh, I deleted the photo, which automatically deleted all the comments underneath it. I felt like I should wash my hands. Maybe bleach my eyeballs. What kind of a person made a comment like that?

I needed to post something new, and quickly. I grabbed my bag. Time for a walk about town. It would probably do me good to step away from the computer for a while after that anyhow.

Carol was by the front door, looking outside.

“Hey, I’m going to step out to get some new pics for our socials,” I said.

“That’s good.” She didn’t tear her eyes away from whatever she was looking at. “It’s true what they say. There’s no such thing as bad publicity.”

I took a peek out the window. The sidewalks were busy. Our visitors were a bit younger, demographically, and without children. But crowds were here. A couple of news vans were still parked on the road. “Media hasn’t left yet?”

“My guess is today,” Carol said. “There’s nothing new on the case. If there’s nothing to report, they’ll move on.”

Things were going to work out, I thought. Sure, a bunch of families had canceled. But because of all of the media attention, people who had never heard of Christmasville were now in a rush to visit.

“See you later,” I said, pushing open the front door.

I immediately took several shots of the crowds on Main Street. Posting one of these could be good, to show we were still business as usual in town. As I moved down the street, I stopped at a news crew interviewing a tourist.

“Aren’t you scared to be here after what happened to Isabella Redstone?” the reporter asked. She was probably hoping for a breathless comment.

But the bearded man only shrugged. “I’m from New York City. One murder isn’t going to scare me off from my holiday vacation.”

His wife chimed in. “Plus, rumor has it an ex-boyfriend did it. It’s not like the public is in danger.”

Gee, I wonder how that rumor spread? I’d bet everything I owned that Carol was behind that piece of news.

A small crowd had formed to watch the interview. Two pretty college girls wearing sweatshirts with their sorority letters stood beside me.

“Can you believe this place is real?” one said to the other. “It’s like one of those towns in a Christmas TV movie come to life!”

“I’m going to take, like, a million pics,” the second girl said.

That warmed my digital marketing heart. Yes, please, give us free publicity.

I butted in, “Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear. Please tag us when you post the pics.” I quickly gave her our handle. “I run the town’s accounts. Maybe I’ll repost you in our story.”

“Oh, cool!” she said, turning to her friend.

But her friend had a curious look in her eyes. “You work for the town? So, what do you think? Is there a serial killer here?”

My throat tightened. “All I know is that the police are doing their job. And in the meantime, everyone should use common sense. Stick together, safety in numbers, don’t be out alone late at night, the usual.”

“Okay, Mom,” she chuckled good-heartedly.

“And tag us in those photos!” I said, trying to keep it light.

I skirted around a camera crew and continued down the sidewalk. I headed toward the park, passing by many wide-eyed first-timers who felt like they were on a movie set. Their phones raised high, taking pictures and videos.

This could, strangely, be Christmasville’s most successful season ever. Thanks to a murderer. It couldn’t have gone any better if Carol had planned it herself.

The park was moderately busy, with an uncomfortable number of people milling about the gazebo. I avoided that area. Instead, I headed toward the snowman-building station. That was where I’d get the perfect family-friendly snapshot. Off in the distance, in the park on the other side of the street was the hedge maze Rudy had told me about. I’d head there next. Maybe a short video inside the maze would be cool to add to our story.

The wide expanse of snow glittered where the sun hit it, like thousands of tiny diamonds. A few people ambled about, selecting accessories from the lost and found box. One couple laughed at their awkwardly leaning snowman, who they’d appropriately named Pisa. I asked for permission, then took a photo. A family of four—yay, a family!—was about halfway through their snowman-building when an all-out snowball fight erupted. I snapped several action shots and got posting permissions. The other snowmen stood completed, their creators gone. I considered photos, but neither of them was in consideration for the new Frosty, so not social-worthy.

Then I saw something shiny out of the corner of my eye. Sunlight glinted off something in the distance between two tall snow-covered pines. I squinted. It was definitely a snowman. Why would someone build it so far away from the others? It was in the middle of nowhere.

Figuring it might be worth the trek, I hauled my way over there, thankful for my snow boots. Perhaps this was a snowman Mona Lisa, begging to be photographed. But when I got there, my whole body went numb.

It was a snowwoman. She had pine needles for eyelashes, and two small snowballs crudely placed for her breasts. A thick scarf trailed along her neck. Several red slashes adorned her torso. And a giant knife stuck out of her stomach.

Isabella. The snowman was Isabella.

Chapter Eighteen

Bile rose up from my stomach. I stepped back, nearly stumbling over my own feet. Someone made a snowman of Isabella. And the red slashes … was that blood? My hand clasped over my mouth, holding back a scream.

“There you are,” a voice said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I turned to find Holly at the exact moment she noticed the snowman.

Her mouth turned down. “Ew, that’s disgusting.” She reached out, sliding a finger along one of the red wounds.

“Wait,” I said. “What are you doing?”

But before I could even finish the sentence, she raised her finger and took a sniff of the red substance. I swayed on my feet, the brightness of the day suddenly turning dark.

“Ketchup,” she said. Then with a concerned look at me, she added, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said, my voice coming out in a pitiful squeak. “I feel kind of dizzy.”

She grabbed my arm to steady me. “You are the palest white girl I’ve ever seen right now. Let’s go sit on a bench before you faint.”

I let her lead me to the nearest bench and ease me down. I took deep, slow breaths. The darkness receded and the ground stopped moving.

“I’m better,” I said. “I’m okay.” Though that wasn’t completely true.

Holly gently squeezed my hand. “You know the snowman’s not real, right? He’s not going to come to life and stab you.”

“I know.” I exhaled a little laugh, feeling kind of silly. I wasn’t in any danger, but my brain had reacted as if I were. The snowman was just so morbid. And vaguely … threatening.

“Some loser made it as a sick joke. Probably took a pic to send it to his group chat.” Holly shook her head in disgust.

“You don’t think it’s a message?” I asked.

Her eyes softened. “Kels, I’m as paranoid as they come, but no. I don’t think it was a message. I think it was some loser being gross. Have you seen some of the new people who’ve shown up in town?”

“Yeah,” I said, though I hadn’t seen anyone who’d get off on making a murdered woman snowman.

“Don’t let it get to you. That’s what the person wanted. To shock some people.”

I thought about who else could stumble upon it. Families. Children! “We can’t leave it there. If a kid picked up that knife—”

Holly calmed me with a hand on my shoulder. “I’ll have Nick come dismantle the artistic display before it scares anyone else. I promise.”

“Okay.” My shoulders sagged with relief.

“And in the meantime, I’m going to walk you back to your office, and I’m not going to leave until you drink a big glass of water and get some pink back into those cheeks.”

A thought occurred to me. In all of the chaos, I’d barely noticed that Holly had set out to find me.

I turned to her. “Wait, why were you looking for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” She snapped her fingers like she was just remembering herself. “I was wondering if you were going out of town for Thanksgiving.”

“No.” I gave a little eye roll. “I’ve been notified by the sheriff that I’m not allowed to leave town.” And I had nowhere to go, but I didn’t want to sound pathetic.

“Kris can’t be serious with that. Everyone knows you’re not a killer.” She huffed. “So do you have any family coming here?”

“No, my brother’s seven hours away and my parents are on vacation.” I tried not to let any sadness leak into my voice. I thought I could just stay busy and blow right by Thanksgiving without getting trapped in my feelings. But the closer the holiday came, the more I realized how disappointed I was to be spending it alone.

Holly slapped both hands on her thighs. “So, you’re coming to my house, then. It’s settled.”

My jaw hung open. “You’re inviting me to Thanksgiving?”

“What, do you need a printed invitation on fancy stationery?” she asked, her mouth twitching with a baby smile.

“No, I’m just … happy.” I didn’t even try to be cool about it. The delight was probably written all over my face. “I’d love to come.”

“Ellison will be there.” Holly gave me a long, meaningful look.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name, but I tried to play innocent. “What?”

“You know what,” she said wryly.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She wagged her eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe if you stay sober you can get that kiss this time.”

I audibly gasped and could feel the red flaring on my cheeks. “He told you that? Damn, does he tell you everything?”

“No, he tells Nick everything, asks Nick to keep it secret, and then Nick tells me.”

“Well, at least you’re honest,” I said. But I needed this embarrassing moment to end, so I quickly changed the subject. “What should I bring?”

Holly tapped on her chin as she thought. “Can you cook?”

“Not a thing.”

“Bring wine.”

I pointed at her. “Great idea.”

She stood up and stretched. “Now let’s get your sorry, scaredy-cat, bad-cooking ass back to work. Can you walk or do you need to lean on me?”

“I’m fine,” I said, standing to prove it. “The dizziness is completely gone. You don’t need to walk me back. I’ve got it.”

“Okay.” She feigned a stern look. “No fainting at my Thanksgiving dinner. Unless it’s from an amazing, secret make-out sesh in the pantry.”

“Ugh!” I yelled, groaning as we started walking. But inside, I was glowing. Ellison had told Nick about our moment. And I had somewhere to go for Thanksgiving. People to be with. And not just any people. Friends who I was really starting to love.

I cast one last look over my shoulder at the bloody snowwoman. Holly was on her phone, probably calling Nick to come and take a look. She seemed convinced it was a loser’s prank. And she was the true-crime buff, if anyone was going to over-react it would be her.

Then why did I feel like it was made not to shock people, but to scare them? Threaten them.

Warn them.

The rest of the day passed with much less drama. I didn’t tell Carol about the snowman incident because—to be honest—I was kind of embarrassed now. Holly was right. It was a joke made in poor taste. It wasn’t a threat to me personally.

I posted some of the pics I’d taken on our socials, and they got great engagement. I worked well past five. Carol seemed to appreciate that as she gave me two thumbs up on her way out. It was only when I was getting ready to leave that I remembered I’d never hit up the hedge maze like I’d planned.

With a sigh, I realized my workday wasn’t quite over yet. I needed to show all the fun things Christmasville had to offer, and that was one thing I hadn’t highlighted yet. It was dark, but I knew the hedge maze had some dim lighting the town kept on so people could explore it in the evening. The sun set so early here, especially in winter.

My boots scuffed on the asphalt as I headed back toward the park. I hadn’t yet explored a lot of the east side. Mainly because most of the events were on the west side with the gazebo and the main stage. The skating pond was on the east side, but that wasn’t lit at night, so I’d have to hit that up another day.

Though a good number of people explored Main Street, the crowd thinned out when I reached the park. Prickles of anxiety traveled up my arms as I gazed across the empty expanse of well-trodden snow.

Just get to the maze, take some pics, and get out.

I told myself to calm down. It wasn’t the middle of the night. It was dinnertime. The longer I stood there, all I accomplished was to make myself more nervous. The best thing to do was get it over with. I kept my head down and trudged as quickly as possible to the maze. It had one opening, and I assumed one exit. The hedges were over six feet high and well-maintained. By the copious foot traffic I saw in the snow, it was a popular place. Just not right now.

Why didn’t I come during the day? I chided myself. Because I’d nearly fainted over a snowman, that’s why.

I took a deep, calming breath and entered the maze. Lifting my phone, I recorded a quick video. I walked around a bend and stopped at the first choice. I panned the camera back and forth—left or right?—and stopped filming. I quickly rewatched the video and was impressed by how cool it looked. The hedge maze being empty added to the point of view and made the viewer feel like they were in the maze themselves. I could choose the right filter to enhance the effect even more.

I didn’t want to go any farther into the maze than I had to, but I took the left choice because that angle was better. I framed the shot, ready to snap it, when I heard a noise that made me freeze in place.

The sound of a footfall crunching the snow beneath it.

“Hello?” I called out. “Anyone here?”

No one answered. I held my breath, straining my ears for any sound. That unnerving feeling of being watched rose up in me. I turned in a circle, as soundlessly as I could. But every direction held nothing but hedges. Anyone could be standing on the other side, peering through the holes between branches. I wrapped my arms around my body as I started to shiver.

Maybe there was no one. Maybe I was still jumpy from the murder snowman, and I was psyching myself out.

Another footfall came, clearly a boot crunching snow. A surge of adrenaline pushed through my veins. I was not imagining it. Someone was behind me, by the entrance, close enough to have heard me call out. And they’d decided not to answer. Which could only mean creepy, terrible things. I couldn’t double back if that’s where they were. So I made the only choice I had.

I ran further into the maze.

My breaths came hard and fast. I wanted to gauge where the person was and if they were gaining on me, but my own footsteps were too loud. As I turned each corner, shadows stretched. Sounds seemed to be all around me—behind and in front. Had someone else come in from the exit? Were there two people?

A dead end forced me to double back, and I swore under my breath as I retraced my steps and went in the opposite direction. My heart pounded wildly. I could run into the person at any moment.

A flash of red caught my eye as it dodged around a corner. I stopped. Like flowing red hair?

“Susie?” I called out.

The only answer was a low rustling. The spotlight above me flickered, and dread filled my body. The lighting was dim enough already. If it went out completely, I’d have to use my cell’s flashlight, and it would take me forever to find my way out.

I stared at the hedge beside me. Was it an outside wall? Could I push through rather than continuing to the exit? I shoved an arm in, but it got stuck halfway and ripped my coat. That was clearly a last resort.

The only way out was through. If the person wanted to kill me, they could have already done it. I’d been standing still for long enough. So, they only wanted to scare me.

Or they liked to play with their victim before they ended them.

I pushed that thought away as I forged ahead. The last time, I’d gone right, right, left and that hadn’t worked. Right, right, right would be a circle. Damn, just start moving. I went left and hoped for the best.

A dark shadow dashed around the corner, but I couldn’t hear anyone. Was it a trick of the light? I took a right at the next intersection and started down a long corridor of hedges. My gut said this was the outer edge of the maze. I started to jog. Halfway down, I could see the dark, gaping opening of the exit. I ran toward it, relief flooding me as I left the maze.

And slammed into the solid chest of—

Sheriff Kris grabbed my shoulders and glared down at me. “What are you doing?”

“I was … taking pictures for work …” I spoke between ragged breaths. “But someone else … was in the maze.”

“That’s what people do,” he said. “They explore the maze.”

“But no one answered when I called out.”

He stroked his white beard. Deep wrinkles etched into his skin. “Maybe you scared them.”

I scared them. Right. Sure. But then I wondered if Kris had been the one in the maze, and he’d made it out right before me. Though he wasn’t wearing anything red, and I’d thought for sure I’d seen a glimpse of that color.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“My job. Patrolling. Making sure the town is safe from anyone who wants to harm it.” His words were slow and deliberate, and I couldn’t help feeling they were directed at me.

I shrugged off his hands and took two steps away. “Then I’ll let you get back to it.”

He didn’t say anything else as I walked away. But I could feel his eyes on my back the entire time. My breathing didn’t normalize until I was back on Main Street, among the crowds milling in and out of restaurants.

I didn’t know who had been in the maze. But I knew their intentions. Any normal person would have answered me, would have heard the fear in my voice. This person wanted me scared.

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, I was still unnerved by my experience in the maze. Once again, I hadn’t been physically hurt. But I felt like someone was playing psychological games with me. Why would someone want me to be terrified? At the very least, they’d ruined my night and kept me tossing and turning for hours. When I finally did fall asleep, it felt like only five minutes later my alarm was going off. I hit snooze one too many times and now I was going to work with a ponytail.

“How are you this morning, Kelsey?” Grace asked as she refilled a basket of bagels.

A late start had me grabbing a muffin to go, but I always had time for Grace. “I’m hanging in there.”

She stacked up a pile of tiny individual butters and gave me a curious look. “You seem distracted this morning. Hope you’re not working too hard.”

“You’re one to talk,” I said, nudging her with my elbow.

“It’s not work if you love it,” she said with a half-hearted smile.

“Have any events going on today?” I was always more than willing to give the Christmas Creek Inn a little push on social media.

“We were supposed to have ornament decorating at noon, except not enough people signed up.” She kept her voice flat, but her face showed disappointment.

“I guess it’s more of a kid’s activity,” I said. “And there are a lot more adults here than usual.”

As if struck with an idea, Grace raised her finger. “You know what you should check out? The ugly sweater party at the Silver Bell tonight. I bet that will be busy. This new demographic is more of a match for a cocktail at a bar.”

That was actually a good idea. I could get some great photos. There was only one problem. “I don’t own an ugly Christmas sweater,” I admitted in a low voice, like I’d said something sacrilegious.

Grace looked me up and down. “I’m not as small as you, but they’re meant to wear baggy. I have a bunch. Borrow one of mine.”

“Are you going?” I asked.

She shook her head, her dangly Christmas tree earrings quivering. I was surprised. She had seemed to light up when she mentioned it, so I just assumed she was excited to go.

“Why not?” I prodded.

She let out a tired sigh. “I have to stay here. We have some late check-ins arriving tonight. Rudy is being an ornery teenager, Jack nearly killed my computer the last time he touched it, and Angelica has more than enough work cleaning all twenty rooms. So, it’s easier to just stay and do the work myself.”

My heart cinched. Keeping this place going was so much work on Grace without her husband. She barely had any time for herself.

“Have you thought about hiring more help?” I asked.

She shook her head. “The margins won’t allow it. We’re barely getting by as it is.” She straightened her shoulders and plastered on a smile. “But don’t worry about me. After Rudy goes to college and comes back, he’ll work here full time and eventually take it over so I can retire. And then he’ll have kids, and it will pass on to the next generation. The Christmas Creek Inn will always be in our family. Just as my husband wanted.”

Her eyes threatened to fill with tears, and she blinked quickly. I knew a change in topic was warranted.

“So, about that sweater,” I prodded. “I’d love to borrow one, if you wouldn’t mind.”

She smiled widely. “It’s no problem. I’ll have Angelica put one in your room when she cleans it today.”

I took my muffin and coffee to go and headed outside. Grace’s eyes had glinted as she talked about keeping Christmas Creek in the family. It was obvious how much the place meant to her. I just hoped she didn’t work herself to death in the meantime.

Not one media van parked along Main Street, so it seemed like the interest was waning. Carol had been right. With no news on the case, there was no reason for them to stay. The town hall was quiet, and the door to Carol’s office was closed. I remembered she was at an off-site meeting this morning, which was convenient since I was a little late.

I scarfed down my breakfast at my desk while I checked on our follower counts—still steadily increasing. The photo I’d posted yesterday of the family snowball fight got a huge number of likes. I started scrolling through the comments, liking the cute ones and answering some basic questions. Then I froze. The poster from yesterday had commented again.

Did you like my snowman?

An icicle of fear trailed down my spine. The first comment about the present under the tree could have been from anyone. That story had gone national, and everyone knew the body was found in a Christmas tree. But this was different. This was about the creepy murdered snowwoman. Whoever TheChristmasKiller was, they were in town right now. They’d watched me find the snowman. And they wrote this comment knowing I’d see it.

My muffin threatened to eject itself from my stomach. I covered my mouth and pushed myself away from my desk. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. I had to stay calm. I had to think clearly.

What I really had to do was talk to the police. But who? I certainly didn’t want to see Sheriff McCreeperpants. And I didn’t want to deal with someone I didn’t know. It had to be Nick. He was the only one I trusted. I picked up the phone and dialed.

“Christmasville Police, your call is being recorded,” a young woman said.

I squeezed the phone tightly in my hand to keep it from shaking. “Hi, I’d like to speak with Officer Nick Coleman please.”

“Officer Coleman isn’t in the station right now. Would you like to be forwarded to his voicemail or speak to another officer?”

Damn. Of course, he would be out patrolling.

“Would you be able to reach him on his radio and tell him that someone needs to speak with him?” My voice trembled slightly. “I’m a friend of his wife, Holly.”

“I can’t go back and forth, honey. And I need to leave this line open for emergencies. You can leave a message on his voicemail.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, my voice cracking.

As if she felt bad for me, she added, “Or you could try to find him at his wife’s place. I think he goes there for a coffee break around this time every day.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. “Thank you so much.”

I was greeted at Holly’s Bakery by the jingle of the bell above the door and a wave from the owner herself. I inhaled deeply. The scent of pastries, soups, and fresh bread commingled in the air like an aroma orgy. But even that couldn’t calm my nerves.

A young couple sat at a table in the corner, and one person was finishing up at the register, but other than that, things looked slow. It was the downtime between the breakfast and lunch rush. And it was totally adorable that Nick swung by during this time to visit his wife, but I planned on monopolizing that time today.

I approached Holly, who was standing behind the counter wearing a red apron with a turkey and the words “Let’s Get Basted.”

“How many of those do you have?” I asked, pointing.

She looked down at the apron. “Don’t ask. What can I get ya?”

Well, if I was here anyway … “I’ll have a lemon square and a salted caramel hot chocolate.” What I really wanted was another coffee, but I was jittery enough as it was.

“Coming right up,” Holly said. “To go or are you taking a break here?”

I kneaded my hands anxiously. “Um, actually … I was hoping to talk to Nick. Is he stopping by?”

She raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Any minute. Grab a table. I’ll bring your order over.”

I took the table by the window and checked my phone. No new message from Carol inquiring about my whereabouts, which was good. I didn’t know when she was due back to the office.

Holly set down a scrumptious-looking lemon square and a steaming mug of hot cocoa. Then she wiped her hands on her apron and took the chair opposite.

“So, what’s up?” she asked with an inquisitive look. “You’re not backing out of Thanksgiving, are you?”

“No, not that,” I muttered through a mouthful of lemon square. As nauseous as I’d been in my office after seeing the message, now my nervous energy wanted butter and sugar.

The door opened behind us, and Nick strolled in. My shoulders sagged with relief. I would tell him about TheChristmasKiller, and he’d know what to do.

“Hey, hon,” he said, leaning down to plant a kiss on Holly’s cheek. “Hey, Kelsey. Glad to hear you can make it to our house for Thanksgiving.”

“Nick,” Holly said, placing a hand on his arm. “Kelsey is actually here to talk to you.”

He looked at me in surprise. “Is that so?”

“I’ll get your regular,” Holly said, rising.

Nick took the seat Holly just vacated, adjusting the police radio on his shoulder. He truly was handsome, especially in uniform. Holly was a lucky woman.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I wiped some powdered sugar off my face with a napkin. “I think Isabella’s killer has been contacting me through social media.”

His head rocked back. “Start from the beginning.”

I pushed my little plate to the side. “Well, yesterday there was a comment under one of our photos from someone calling themselves TheChristmasKiller. It said, ‘Did you like the present I left you under the tree?’ ”

Nick’s mouth turned down in disgust. “Sick. How did you respond?”

“I had to delete that photo anyway. It was from the tree-lighting ceremony, and I figured it to be in bad taste. When you delete a photo, all the comments go with it. So, I thought that was that. But today, there’s a new comment on another picture.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “What does it say?”

“ ‘Did you like my snowman?’ ” I said dramatically. My stomach started to churn again. “It’s clearly referring to the dead snowwoman from yesterday.”

“Yeah, Holly told me all about that, and I dismantled it personally.”

“Was the knife …?” I let him fill in the blank because I physically couldn’t say it.

He shook his head. “Totally clean. And too big. The knife that was used in the murder was a middle-sized knife from a common household knife block.”

I stored that new nugget of information away. It hadn’t been in the news so he probably shouldn’t have told me, but I kept my face neutral.

“So, what else?” Nick asked.

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What else did the person write?”

“Nothing. That’s it.”

“Oh.” He leaned back in his chair like he was disappointed.

I didn’t know what he’d been expecting. That someone would DM me under their real name and confess? He had to do some of the work.

Holly appeared with coffee in a to-go cup and a heart-shaped cookie on a red napkin. They were so adorable it made my nausea worse.

“So, what are you going to do, honey?” Holly asked, dragging a third chair over to the table. “Ask Instagram who owns the account?”

He gave her a stern look. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“Of course I was. Kels doesn’t mind.” She motioned to me, and I didn’t disagree.

Nick let out a half-hearted groan. “To get their account IP and personal information, we would need a subpoena, a court order, and a search warrant. They don’t give those out willy-nilly.”

“Yes, but—” I started.

He cut in, “We would have to show that we have evidence this person committed a crime.”

I threw my hands up. “It’s clearly whoever killed Isabella!”

“Is it?” he countered. “Did they say anything only the killer would know?”

I hesitated. “Well, no, but—”

“As of right now, all the person is guilty of is having poor taste. They haven’t said anything to lead us to believe they know more than the general public about the case.”

Holly gave me a sympathetic look. “So, what is she supposed to do? Let them keep being creepy on our town’s account?”

“Of course not,” Nick said quickly. “Delete the comment. You could even try reporting the comment if you want. But I have experience with this, mostly due to school bullying cases, and technically these comments are not against the company’s terms and conditions.”

I thought about that for a moment. The person was careful. They didn’t outright threaten anyone. To anyone outside of this situation, their comments weren’t menacing at all. I’d still report it, just in case, but I knew Nick was right. Still, I didn’t feel safe. This felt personal.

“I wouldn’t be so scared if it was your average Internet troll,” I said. “But this is someone who is physically in town. They saw me with the snowman!”

“Or they saw me, the police, taking the snowman down,” he suggested. “Anytime the police do anything, it attracts attention and this was no different. I had people watching what I was doing.”

Holly nodded in agreement. “Kelsey, this isn’t your personal Instagram account; it’s the town’s. You can’t assume every comment on there is for you,” she said placatingly.

Nick added, “They didn’t use your name. This person may not even know who runs the account. Or it could be someone trying to mess with Carol. That list grows by the year.”

“I completely get why you’re scared,” Holly said gently. “We’re not trying to gaslight you. But we don’t want you to drive yourself crazy with worry that you’re in danger when there is no evidence of that.”

“I appreciate that,” I said in a small voice.

“And if there comes a point when we do have evidence that you are being targeted,” Holly added, her eyes darkening. “Then they better pray for themselves. Because no one comes after my friends.”

I smiled as warmth spread through me. “Thanks, guys.”

Everything they were saying was true. But there was still a chance that this was personal. That the comments were for me. But, then again, that didn’t mean the commenter was the killer. It could have been someone who took on the killer’s identity to try to scare me. But who? And why?

Chapter Twenty

I gazed at myself in the full-length mirror and a dinosaur gazed back. Specifically, it was an ugly Christmas sweater featuring a T.rex decorated with ornaments that said “Tree Rex” along the top. I looked utterly ridiculous, but at least it brought a smile to my face. After my failed meeting with Nick, I’d reported and deleted TheChristmasKiller’s comment. Right before I left the office for the night, I had a response. The account “had not violated any of the terms and conditions” and would face no consequences. Of course. Whoever checked out my report—whether human or bot—probably laughed at me for reporting a comment about a snowman. They see things a million times worse every day.

I’d been in a mood ever since. Even pizza for dinner didn’t help. But putting on this ridiculous sweater did. I paired it with black fleece-lined leggings and tall boots. I hadn’t been to a bar in ages. And if anything could turn a day around, it was a bar filled with people wearing sweaters like this. Even though I was mainly going for work, I was suddenly looking forward to it. I could use a bit of fun.

By the time I got to the Silver Bell, the party was already rocking. The bar was lined with garland, while colored lights traced the giant mirror on the wall behind it, making the rows of liquor bottles glow. The playlist seemed to be an upbeat mix of contemporary holiday music. The specials on the chalkboard advertised drinks like Spiked Eggnog, Grinch Punch, Sugar Cookie Martini, and a Jingle Bowl, whatever that was. I developed a hangover just thinking about it.

I pulled out my phone and snapped some quick photos. The crowd was pretty thick and everyone had dressed the part, so I was sure to get some fun shots. I wove my way past tables and a stage with a banner proclaiming the future winner of the ugliest sweater. I framed the shot of the empty stage with the banner behind and clicked. Then I immediately cross-posted the photo across our socials with the caption, “This could be you! #UglySweaterWinner.”

Strolling the perimeter, I captured more shots of decorations and half-drunk, happy patrons. The sweaters ranged from boring to hilarious. One guy in full, zip-up Christmas footie pajamas seemed to grab the most attention, but technically that wasn’t a sweater. I’d leave that debate to the judges.

A head of gorgeous long curls caught my eye at the bar. Angelica from the inn was perched on a barstool and sipping from a wineglass. I wanted to make my way over and thank her for leaving the sweater in my room. But then I noticed she was somewhat busy. A man in a bright red sweater leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She threw back her head in laughter, flipping her long hair over one shoulder and batting her eyes in the process. She swiveled on the stool, saw me, and her smile wilted. The man turned to see who she was looking at. My breath caught in my throat when I saw who it was.

Aaron.

In a light-up Christmas sweater.

His face brightened, and he came toward me, abandoning a now-dejected Angelica. As he got closer, I was able to see the detail in his sweater. It featured a Christmas tree lit with actual, flickering LED lights and the words “Get Lit.” Absolutely glorious. The first time I saw him not wearing a suit and he was in this getup. I nearly hyperventilated with laughter.

“Hey,” he said, sidling up to me. “What’s so funny?”

I could only push out a few words between gasps of laughter. “You … The sweater …”

He looked around the room dramatically. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but everyone is wearing one.”

“I know,” I said with a smirk. “But you, Aaron Chambers, are not everyone. I’ve never seen you in anything but a suit.”

He puffed up his chest. “Well, get used to it. If I make Christmasville my home, I’m going to be buying a lot more casual wear.”

His confidence surprised me. “Are things looking better with the land deal?”

He tilted his hand back and forth. “Negotiations ramped up today. So it’s starting to look good.”

I motioned with my chin. “Speaking of looking good, Angelica over there seems mighty disappointed that you left her side.”

“You know her, right? From the inn!” He had to raise his voice a bit over the music.

“Yeah, I know her. But she doesn’t give me the goo-goo eyes she was giving you.” I wagged my eyebrows suggestively.

“Really?” he said, blushing. “I just thought she was being friendly.”

“Nah,” I said with a shake of my head. “Believe me. I can tell the difference. And,” I added in a tantalizing tone of voice, “her sweater says she’s on the naughty list.”

He chuckled. “That’s a flattering notion, but I have other ideas.”

I had a feeling his other idea was me, but I still didn’t know how I felt about it.

“So how are you powering that thing?” I pointed at his sweater as the lights flickered and danced.

He reached underneath, baring a quick glimpse of a well-toned stomach, and pulled out a small black square connected to the sweater by a thin cord. “There’s a battery pack! Isn’t it cool?”

“Very cool,” I agreed with a smile.

He tucked the battery back under his sweater and took a sip from a martini glass filled with dark pink liquid.

I giggled. “Are you drinking a cosmo?”

He put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Absolutely not. It’s a Santa Clausmopolitan.”

Now I was laughing all over again. I had no idea he had this silly side to him. It was nice seeing this looser, more casual Aaron.

A confused expression took over his buzzed glow. “There’s a woman over there staring at you like you drained her 401K in a Ponzi scheme.”

Interesting metaphor for Angelica’s disappointment, I thought. But as I glanced over my shoulder, I saw that it wasn’t Angelica. Susie glowered at me from her position, perched at the end of the bar. Her sweater featured a giant candy cane and the words “Suck It.”

“Ugh, Susie.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

“She’s an attractive woman, but that sweater is kind of … aggressive.” Aaron looked bewildered. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing!” I said, indignant. “She’s just extremely jealous, and she thinks I have something going on with her ex-boyfriend.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Bookstore guy?”

“Ellison, yes.” I could feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. I risked another glance and she was still there, openly staring. “I’m not dating anyone right now, but even if I was it would be none of her business.”

Aaron’s brow furrowed. “She does seem a bit intense.”

That was an understatement. I thought about when she cornered me at the bakery to say all of those bad things about Ellison. I didn’t buy her fake concern for one moment. Especially now that she was sending eye daggers at me across the bar for no reason. A mentally balanced person would at least try to hide their unrelenting hatred of another person in public.

I wondered again if she’d been the person in the maze. She could even be TheChristmasKiller commenter. An involuntary shudder shook my shoulders. I suddenly didn’t want to be here anymore and started eyeing the exit.

Aaron caught my vibe quickly. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

I really did. But I didn’t want him to feel obligated.

“I don’t want to make you leave the party early,” I said, giving him an out.

He put down his glass and batted at the air. “It’s fine. I’m ready to leave. And I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at night with everything that’s been going on.”

I didn’t like that idea either. And I supposed I had enough photos. I didn’t need to stick around longer and wait for Susie to confront me again.

“Okay, let’s go,” I said.

Aaron led the way through the crowd to the exit. When he pushed open the door, the cold hit my face like a slap. I hadn’t brought my coat because the Silver Bell wasn’t exactly a coat check kind of establishment, and I didn’t feel like taking my chances. But the cold air was a relief compared to the stifling heat of the bar. And it wasn’t too far of a walk.

“Main Street or the creek path?” Aaron asked.

I gave him a look, and he nodded with a sharp laugh. “Main Street it is.”

Even though it was getting late, the road was surprisingly empty. Other than the bar, everything else was closed by now. I was used to walking around earlier in the evening when the shops and restaurants were still busy. The clicking of my boots on the asphalt echoed, along with the scuffing of Aaron’s shoes, and … something else?

I stopped and turned sharply. Shadows stretched from doorways along the street, but I couldn’t see anyone.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asked.

“I thought I heard footsteps.”

He looked around, squinting into the distance. “Other people could be walking home too. It doesn’t have to be anything nefarious.”

I wrapped my arms tightly around my middle, suddenly feeling the cold. “Yeah, I’ve just had a couple of bad experiences lately.”

His eyes darkened. “Like what?”

“I don’t want to get into it,” I said and began walking again, faster this time. “Let’s just get back to the inn.”

“Wait.” He put a hand on my arm, stopping me. “You know you can trust me and tell me what’s going on, right?”

“Yes, I do. I just want to get back. I’m freezing.”

We turned down the side street, almost back to the inn now. I did feel safe with Aaron by my side. Which could have been a bit foolish. I mean, how did I know he wasn’t the killer? All I had was a gut feeling that I could trust him.

But before I knew it, he was holding the front door of the inn open for me, and we were back inside. Safe from the cold. Safe from whoever would want to harm us.

The lobby was dim and empty, the fireplace dark, Grace’s overnight sign replacing her at the desk.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” Aaron said. A statement, not a question.

I didn’t even know which floor he was on and how far his room was from mine, but I appreciated the door-to-door service. The lightness of the sweater party had left me, and my uneasiness from earlier had returned.

We climbed the stairs and padded down the carpeted hall until I stopped in front of my room.

“Thanks,” I said. “I really appreciate you making sure I got home alright.”

He gave me a lazy smile, the buzz of alcohol still present in the shiny gleam of his eyes. “Of course.”

“And sorry for making you leave early.” I pointed at his sweater. “You could have won.”

He gazed down, flicking off a stray piece of lint. “I’m pretty sure footie pajama guy had it in the bag, but thanks for your vote of confidence.”

“Technically, footie pajamas are not a sweater,” I pointed out.

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “A controversy. Maybe we should head back.”

“Yeah, right,” I said with a little laugh.

Suddenly, his head dipped low, and his mouth closed over mine. Stunned, I didn’t move at first. But my initial shock gave way to curiosity, and I kissed him back. I could taste the sweetness of liquor on his mouth. He was gentle and warm. But even though our lips were moving together, something was off.

I pulled back and looked up into his eyes. I’d gotten to really like Aaron. If he stayed in Christmasville, I wanted him in my life. But not in this way. I’d been uncertain before, but I knew for sure now. The spark wasn’t there. Even though he didn’t feel the same way, he saw it in my eyes. A painful silence stretched between us.

“That Susie woman is right to worry,” he said softly. “There is something going on with you and bookstore guy.”

“Aaron …” I wanted to tell him that he’d grown to mean a lot to me. That I truly wanted to have him as a friend. That this had nothing to do with Ellison. But it sounded like such a line.

His eyes took on a faraway look, and his expression morphed into something that surprised me. Not anger. More like … pity.

He shook his head sadly. “You’re choosing the wrong guy.” Then he turned and walked away.

I stood, rooted to the spot in confusion. Why had his eyes filled with concern?

Did he know something I didn’t?

Chapter Twenty-One

I woke early Wednesday morning with visions of to-do lists dancing in my head rather than sugarplums. I had a lot I wanted to accomplish at work, and then I had to get to the store to overthink which bottles of wine to bring to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. When I headed downstairs, I saw that I wasn’t the only busy one. The check-in line stretched almost to the door. Beads of sweat were forming on Grace’s forehead at the desk.

“Room 21 has a clogged toilet!” she called out to Jack as he shuffled by.

“We’re out of bagels!” Rudy yelled as he hitched his backpack up on one shoulder and headed to the door.

“Half day, right?” Grace asked. “You’ll be home right after school?”

“Yes,” Rudy grumbled.

I felt like I should help in some way, but I couldn’t unclog toilets or check in new customers. And I didn’t work here. Though I felt like I was going to live at the inn forever based on the meager rental listings. My apartment rental app hadn’t given me any notifications in a while.

The breakfast area was equally busy. I felt lucky to snag the last blueberry muffin. I filled up a mug with coffee and glanced around. One empty table called my name. But my heart stuttered as Aaron walked in, saw me, and stopped in his tracks.

I was glad to see him, actually. I’d been so taken off guard last night, but I had had time to sort through my feelings and thoughts. I wanted to have that conversation that I couldn’t put into words before. That, as cliché as it sounded, I wanted him as a friend. I knew he wanted to blame Ellison, but the truth was that whatever happened with Ellison and me had no bearing on my decision not to pursue a relationship with Aaron. When it feels right, it feels right, and with us it just didn’t.

But Aaron, refusing to even give me eye contact, turned and ducked out.

Okay, maybe it was too soon for that conversation.

I picked at my muffin, my roaring appetite now down to a light rumble. Aaron had looked so pained. I hated that I’d hurt his feelings. And I hoped that he didn’t feel that I’d led him on. The truth was that I hadn’t known how I’d felt about him for sure until that unexpected kiss. Then it all clicked into place. I savored the last sip of my coffee, then cleaned up my table and headed to work.

The sky was a clear bright blue, but the air was so cold it felt like a thousand tiny knives stabbing my pores. I lifted my scarf and wrapped it around the lower half of my face. Between that and my woolen hat, I’d make it to work without becoming a human popsicle. Albeit with my hair and makeup in need of some touching up.

Carol and I got to the front door of the town hall at the same time. She wore no hat or scarf, just a black wool coat and leather gloves. And she didn’t even look cold. Only a touch of peach dotted her cheeks.

She did a double take at the sight of me. “You look like you’re about to rob a bank.”

I pulled my scarf down to show my face. “It’s freezing out today.”

“Then let’s head inside,” she said, making a rush motion with her hands.

But as I turned toward the door, I stopped in place. A sign was taped to the glass. The number three was centered in large font. Beneath it in small letters read, “I’m not finished.”

My throat squeezed tight. This was from TheChristmasKiller. I knew it. And he or she was openly admitting that Mary and the man from the inn were murdered too. There had been three murders. Christmasville had a serial killer. And he or she was making sure we knew it.

Carol reached over my shoulder and ripped the sign down.

“Hey!” I screeched. “We need to give that to the police! They could check it for fingerprints.”

“It’s just a sick joke,” she said dismissively as she tore the paper into pieces.

“You don’t know that,” I said, my mouth open in shock. “You’re destroying evidence.”

“I destroyed an immature, nasty message left on the town hall door. I will not have some scoundrel scaring the people in my town.”

She unlocked the door and pushed by me, heading into the lobby.

I followed her in, not ready to give up. “But the police—”

“Could do nothing,” she interrupted, spinning around to face me. “There are no security cameras out there. I don’t even know if this would count as vandalism. Nothing is damaged. The police are busy trying to solve the murder of that out-of-town influencer.”

“Which that paper could have helped with if it’s the same person!” My voice rose a bit too high, and I could tell from Carol’s expression that I was walking a thin line.

She continued marching to her office, then stopped in the doorway, and turned to look at me. “Or the police could have wasted their precious time and resources hunting down a nutjob looking for attention while the real killer is out there not advertising themselves on the town hall door,” she said calmly. “Really, Kelsey. Think it through.”

Then she closed her office door, effectively closing the conversation. I was self-aware enough to know that my knee-jerk reactions lately mostly involved panic. But I really didn’t think this was a decision for us to make. She should have shown the note to the police. If they decided it wasn’t worth their time, then fine. But it wasn’t worth chasing her into her office to argue my point. It felt like trying to explain calculus to a wall.

I retreated to my own office to cool down. I checked my emails and responded to some messages from family. My parents had been feeling a little guilty about tomorrow’s holiday, but I assured them that if my retirement gave me the chance to be docked in Fiji on Thanksgiving, I would do the same. And I think they felt a lot better after hearing I’d made friends close enough that I’d been invited to their house.

Now, fully calmed down, I could focus on work. I checked our analytics from the day before. The numbers looked great, headed in the right direction. I chose the best photo from the party last night, but I’d wait until a higher traffic hour to post. In the meantime, I could focus on the comments that came in overnight to see if anything needed attention.

And there it was.

There will be more …

It was a similar message to the “I’m not finished” threat on the door, which told me two things. The commenter and the person who left the note on the door were one and the same. And, two, they were warning us that there would be another murder. That was, of course, assuming they were the actual killer. To Carol’s point, would the killer really be advertising themselves on the door of the town hall? There was a chance it was a completely different person. Someone taking advantage of the situation to get attention or scare people.

I banged my fist on the desk. I felt helpless. There was no point in showing Carol. She was lost in her own reality where none of this was happening, all to protect the town’s image. Nick couldn’t help me unless the person told me something specific about the crimes that could prove they were the killer. I could report them again, but I knew the end result of that useless endeavor.

The block option was the only one I hadn’t yet taken. I took a screenshot of the comment in case I ever needed it. Then I blocked the user completely. TheChristmasKiller would no longer be able to comment on our posts. Of course, nothing stopped the person from creating an account called TheChristmasKiller2 and continuing the fun. But part of me thought they wouldn’t go through the effort. Whoever it was already got their point across. And if their main motive was to scare me, mission accomplished.

A knock on my open door drew my attention. Carol stood with an almost contrite look on her face and a notebook in her hand.

“Do you have time to discuss some strategy?” she asked, her tone all business.

My hope that she’d changed her mind and was willing to discuss the town’s murder problem like grown adults deflated. But my job was still my job, and I had to do it.

“Sure, come on in.” I stood up and grabbed my bag off of my guest chair, making room for her.

She sat primly, holding her notebook on her lap. “We need to stoke interest in the upcoming holiday concert. It’s only two days away. And for our regular visitors, it’s a change of venue. So we have to make sure they know that without drawing attention to why it’s not in the park this year.”

I nodded quickly, jotting notes down as she spoke. “I can create a graphic advertising the time and place.”

“Make it seem like we changed the venue to support our local businesses. The shops and restaurants on Main Street are excited about the extra foot traffic. Many of them are staying open later for the night.”

Having the concert right on Main Street itself was definitely a win for them. It also seemed safer somehow. If TheChristmasKiller was telling the truth, and they were planning another murder, it would be quite difficult to do it in front of a hundred witnesses right in the middle of Main Street.

“I can work the extended business hours in,” I said. “Maybe in the caption.”

Carol traced a manicured fingernail along her chin. “Something about doing some holiday shopping before the concert and grabbing a candy cane cocoa after.”

“Sounds good.” I would definitely word it better than that, but the message would be the same.

“When will you post?” Carol asked.

I tapped the end of my pen on my notepad. “Probably later this afternoon. At lunchtime I’m posting a picture from the ugly sweater party last night at the Silver Bell.” I picked up my phone and swiped to the photo to show her.

She smiled genuinely. “That’s perfect. Great job.”

“Thanks.” Though the conversation would seem pleasant to any outsider, there was an undercurrent of immense awkwardness running underneath it. But it seemed like Carol was not the type to want to hash things out. She preferred to bulldoze past any uncomfortable issues and forget they happened.

She rose, dusting imaginary lint off of her trousers, and went to the door. “I’m tied up in meetings the rest of the day.”

“Okay. Just shoot me an email if you need anything.”

Carol nodded at me over her shoulder, her eyes soft. “I don’t want you spending any time on work tomorrow, Kelsey. Just schedule a post. A beautiful town image with a typical Happy Thanksgiving caption. That’s all. I’ll see you Friday.”

With that, she was gone. I thought that was her way of apologizing. A small smile lifted my mouth. She may have been in complete denial about the situation, but she had good intentions. She always did what she felt was best for the town. I truly and completely hoped she was right. TheChristmasKiller was some loser looking for attention. There would be no more murders.

But I felt in my heart she was wrong.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Thanksgiving day. It took me ages to choose an outfit, whipping through my closet, the hangers screeching. Finally, I settled on a white sweater dress paired with a chunky necklace. I took extra time with my hair and makeup. Eventually satisfied, I gave myself a thumbs-up in the mirror. That’ll do.

Since I was driving to Holly’s house, I didn’t bother bundling up with my usual hat and gloves. I even wore heels rather than boots. I made my way through the parking lot, heading toward my car when I saw Aaron heading toward his. Well, I assumed it was his, because it was a sporty BMW without all-weather tires.

My stomach tightened. Would he ignore me again? Did I want him to ignore me? It was easier than having an awkward conversation, that was for sure. But as he noticed me, he plodded past his car and toward mine.

I stiffened, not knowing what to expect. I stopped beside my little Honda and waited, rubbing my hands against the cold. A multitude of opening statements vied for position in my head. I decided on friendly-casual.

When he got to speaking distance, I said, “Happy Thanksgiving! Where are you off to?”

“I’m meeting my parents,” he said flatly. “They came up for the day. There’s a farm not too far from here that’s hosting a big Thanksgiving dinner.”

A few of the restaurants were. It was a holiday, but tourists still needed to eat. And I was sure the restaurants could charge top dollar for a Thanksgiving feast. But my heart went out to the employees who couldn’t get the day off. Big tips were their consolation.

“That sounds nice,” I said. “I’m glad you can see your family.”

He put his hands in the pockets of his suit pants and shrugged. “I’m sure my father will mostly be talking business and asking me why the deal’s not done yet.”

I didn’t know what to say about that. “I’m sorry” seemed inadequate. I went for a joke instead. “Well, hopefully the food’s good!”

He snorted. “Thanks. How about you?”

“No, my family is too far away at the moment. Just spending the holiday with friends.”

“From back home?” he asked.

I hesitated. “No, from here.”

His cheeks turned red, and he stood stiffly as if waiting for me to continue.

But I didn’t want to elaborate and make things even more awkward. Besides I was still hoping we could maintain some sort of friendship.

I pointed my keys at my car. “Well, I should get going.”

“It’s him, right? You’re spending the holiday with him?” His jaw worked tightly.

I could pretend ignorance and act as though I didn’t know which “him” Aaron was referring to, but that wasn’t my style. Choosing my words carefully, I said, “I’m spending the day with many people. Ellison will be one of them.”

Aaron stared at the ground, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what I’m doing for you.” His voice was low yet loud enough for me to hear.

“I … didn’t ask you to do anything for me,” I said slowly. “What are you doing?”

His eyes snapped back up to mine. “I’ll tell you … another time.”

Before I could ask a follow-up, he turned and marched back to his car. He sped away quickly, clouds of exhaust rising up into the gray sky. I got into my car and started the engine. My hands trembled slightly. What was he talking about? What did he mean?

This was not going the way I wanted. Sure, we couldn’t pretend nothing had happened. Hurt feelings were a real thing. But I’d hoped we’d work through them and continue with our friendship. Instead, Aaron was acting like this was a competition. Apparently he really didn’t like to lose. Seeing this side of him made me wonder if I ever knew him at all.

I wouldn’t let him ruin my day, though. Holly had been so kind to invite me. I’d been looking forward to spending time with Ellison. I wouldn’t let this bad interaction ruminate in my head all day. I shook it off, typed Holly’s address in the GPS, and hit the road.

Holly and Nick only lived a few minutes from the town center. My GPS led me down a few side streets to their long driveway. The house was set back and surrounded by woods. I couldn’t live in such an isolated location, personally. I’d read too many Stephen King novels. I needed my neighbors to be within screaming distance. But the house was beautiful. It was a cute Cape-style with clapboard siding and two dormers. Even though it was daytime, the sky was gray enough that they’d turned on their holiday decorations. White icicle lights hung from the trim, and golden LED candles glowed in each window. Nothing over the top—tasteful and welcoming.

I pulled down the visor and did one last check in the mirror. No lipstick on my teeth, no hair sticking up. I slapped the visor back up and grabbed the wine from the back seat.

Holly opened the front door before I even reached it. She wore a deep-red, fitted dress that I was sure would be catching Nick’s eye all day. I was used to seeing her in one of her shop aprons.

I looked her up and down and let out a little whistle. “You clean up well.”

She laughed and play-smacked my arm. “Not too bad yourself,” she said. Then added in a quieter tone, “Almost like you want to impress someone.”

“Don’t start,” I warned with a giggle.

She led me into the living room. A plate of crackers and cheese sat on the coffee table. Logs cracked in the fireplace as Nick prodded them with a poker. Garland trailed up the staircase railing that led to the second floor. The smells wafting from the kitchen rivaled that of the bakery—an impressive feat. Built-in bookcases lined one wall, and as I made a quick inspection, I noticed the books were all true crime.

I gave Holly a look.

Her lips turned up in a playful grin. “A girl likes what she likes.”

Nick straightened and placed the fire poker back in its holder. “Hey, Kelsey! Welcome.” He looked just as handsome out of uniform in jeans and a blazer.

“Thanks for having me,” I said, meaning it. “Your house is gorgeous.”

Nick smiled proudly. “Thanks. We love it.”

“Hey,” a voice said.

I turned to find Ellison leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, a bottle of beer in one hand. He wore khakis and a gray fisherman sweater that made me want to cozy right up to him.

For warmth.

It was a warm-looking sweater.

“Hey, yourself,” I said back, like a professional flirter.

“Want to bring that wine into the kitchen?” Holly asked.

I followed her into a huge open dining and kitchen space. The table was set beautifully with elegant white china, black cloth napkins, and a centerpiece of mixed flowers in varying shades of red. The kitchen itself was bright and cheery with white quartz counters and a double oven.

“The table looks so pretty. And I love your kitchen.” I let my eyes roam and inhaled deeply. “It smells freaking amazing.”

“Thanks. I try!” She took the wine and handed me a pair of tongs. “Would you pick up those rolls cooling on the rack and place them in the wicker basket?”

“Sure.” I liked helping and feeling useful. I started moving the rolls one by one. Like everything else, they looked and smelled like heaven.

Holly rooted through a drawer and came up with a wine opener. “Should I open the bottle?”

“Not yet for me,” I said. “Unless someone else wants a glass.”

“Okay.” She placed it on the counter next to a cooling apple pie. “Would you like a cranberry gin fizz? My holiday cocktail special.”

“That sounds wonderful. But I’ll just have a water or seltzer if you have it.”

“Hmm, staying sober today, are we?” she noted with an exaggerated wink. “Going to try for that kiss?”

I pointed the tongs at her. “Say another word and these go down your throat.”

She chuckled. “Threats of violence so early in our friendship. I like it.”

The first time in a new friend’s place usually seemed awkward and weird. But I felt right at home here. I could picture myself coming back—for a dinner party, or a board game night, or the Superbowl. Nick came in to slice the turkey with an electric knife. Ellison and I were tasked with bringing some of the dishes to the table and making sure they all had serving spoons. Holly put on some soft background music and made sure we all had drinks.

Holly and I sat opposite Nick and Ellison. My plate piled higher and higher as we passed the serving dishes around the table.

“This is exactly what I wanted. Thank you,” Nick said, rubbing Holly’s hand.

At my quizzical look, Holly explained. “We usually alternate going to my sister’s house or Nick’s brother. They each have a million kids. The in-laws always end up fighting. It’s chaos. As the day started approaching this year, especially with how difficult things have been at work for Nick, I suggested we take a year off and do our own thing.”

“Well, I appreciate that idea,” I said, stabbing a piece of perfectly cooked turkey and lifting it to my lips. “And I’m thankful you included me.”

“Same here,” Ellison said. “My parents live in Florida year-round now, but I can’t leave this time of year. Tomorrow will be one of the busiest days of the season for the store.”

“Have sales been okay with all of the goings-on?” I asked. Kind of an awkward way to say “all the deaths” but since Holly made it clear that Nick needed a day off from that, I had to dance around it.

“There have been ups and downs,” Ellison admitted. “But I think the season is going to turn out fine.”

“Have you heard any news about whether Suit Man is going to build his mega hotel?” Holly asked casually while buttering a roll. “You’re friends with him, right?”

Right? The word echoed in my brain. I poked at the cranberry sauce, watching it tremble. “Yes, we are friends. And, no, the deal isn’t done yet so it is all still up in the air.”

“Are you more than friends?” Nick blurted.

Ellison cut him a look that could melt snow, and I knew that this was a discussion they’d had. Something Ellison had wondered. And Nick had probably offered to ask, but Ellison told him not to. And now he did it anyway.

“No more than friends,” I insisted. “I made that very clear recently.”

Nick hit Ellison in the chest with the back of his hand. “See? That’s what that was about.”

Ellison face burned as bright as the sun, and though I couldn’t hear the muttered threats he was giving Nick under his breath, I could imagine them.

“What do you mean?” I asked Nick. “What was what about?”

“It’s no big deal,” Nick said quickly, surely doubting his own safety at this point. “It’s none of my business.”

“If it’s about me, it’s kind of my business,” I said.

Nick heaved a sigh. He aimed a thumb at Ellison. “Susie showed up at the bookstore with pictures on her phone of you and Suit Man walking home from a party together.”

So, someone had been following us after the ugly sweater party. Susie. I knew I’d heard footsteps. She was taking pictures to show Ellison in the hopes that he’d stay away from me, probably. Didn’t she realize that even if Ellison decided not to date me, that didn’t mean he’d come running back to her? No, that would require rational thought.

Ellison coughed into his hand. “I told her that you two were friends, and she insisted it was more. But I told her it was none of my business anyway.” He was so embarrassed I thought his next move would be to slide under the table.

“Susie needs to back off, once and for all,” Holly said, waving a fork in the air. “First she stalked Kelsey into the bakery and now this.”

Ellison’s sky-blue eyes widened. “She what?”

I dabbed at my mouth with a napkin. “She followed me from your bookstore into the bakery and told me things she felt she needed to ‘warn’ me about.” I used air quotes on the word “warn” to let him know I didn’t fall for her BS.

“Warn you about what?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t take any of it seriously, don’t worry.” Not too seriously, anyway. I shoveled a pile of stuffing into my mouth hoping that if I couldn’t speak, this conversation would end. I didn’t want to be talking about Aaron or Susie. I wanted to get to know Ellison better.

His eyes locked onto mine. “I would really like to know what she said.”

“I heard it all,” Holly volunteered. “She wasn’t quiet about it. She was all, ‘He’ll never let you past his walls. He has big secrets. He’ll never let you in. There’s something wrong with him. Blah blah blah.’ ”

Her voice went unnaturally high, but overall it was a spot-on imitation. I watched Ellison’s face for signs of what he’d do next. I didn’t want him to be mad. I didn’t want this to turn into the Susie Show and for the whole dinner to be ruined

Nick took a swig of his beer and elbowed Ellison. “Ignore her. Everyone knows she’s a nutter.”

After a short hesitation, Ellison asked with a smirk, “Yeah, but what about Susie?”

Holly grabbed a dinner roll and tossed it at his face. “I cooked for you and you call me a nutter! I knew I should have poisoned your plate.”

“It tastes like you already did,” Ellison deadpanned.

The ensuing laughter dissolved the tension, and I was so glad. I watched Ellison and Holly trade a few more barbs, her eyes sparkling and his smile gleaming. He was exactly the type of man I wanted in my life. Someone who eased stress, not created it.

“In all seriousness, though,” Ellison said, looking at me. “I’m sorry Susie did that. She has no business following you or intimidating you. Her jealousy has gotten out of control, and I’m going to talk to her about it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. Especially since approaching her with an ultimatum could make the situation worse. But ignoring her didn’t seem to be stopping her behavior either.

“I could always have a little chat with her about not wanting to end up with a restraining order,” Nick offered, then took a quick glance at his phone.

For someone who wanted to avoid work for a day, Nick certainly seemed attached to his cell. It was beside his plate, face up, and any time a notification lit the screen, he checked it.

“Nothing new, hon?” Holly asked with a concerned look.

Nick squinted at the screen and shook his head. “It’s all good.”

Ellison shifted in his seat, clearly sensing something was off with his friend. “Everything okay, bud? You’re like a teenager waiting for their crush to write back.” He added a little laugh for good measure, but Nick remained stone-faced.

“Work stuff,” he said, and shoved a giant forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

I caught a glance between him and Holly, and I realized that she knew everything. Something was going on. Something new. I straightened, my interest piqued.

“Can’t we just tell them?” Holly whispered, loud enough for Ellison and me to hear.

“No, we can’t,” Nick growled. “I’m not even supposed to tell you that stuff.”

Holly groaned and rolled her eyes. “Oh, like Kris doesn’t tell his wife work stuff, come on.”

The sheriff was married? Someone could put up with him? Why did I picture his wife looking like Mrs. Claus?

“This is sensitive information,” Nick said.

Now I really wanted to hear it.

Holly counted off on her fingers. “One: The family has been notified. Two: It’s going to leak to the press anyway, and you know why. Three—”

“Holly, come on!” Nick looked physically pained.

I interrupted. “Holly, you seem to really want to talk about whatever this is, but I don’t want to get Nick in trouble.”

“We’d never get Nick in trouble,” Ellison said, giving me a sly grin. “Because we won’t say a word to anyone else.”

“See?” Holly pointed at Ellison. “Would your best friend get you in trouble?”

“Whatever happens at Thanksgiving stays at Thanksgiving,” Ellison declared.

Holly nodded along. “I’ve always liked this guy.”

Nick dropped his face into his hands. “I hate it when you two gang up on me.”

“Is that a yes?” Holly asked. “We can talk about it?” She clapped her hands eagerly like a little girl waiting to open a present.

“Fine.” Nick sighed dramatically. He took a moment to gather his thoughts. I could almost see him piecing the words together and figuring out the best way to spill whatever this secret info was. He opened his mouth to speak—

And Holly blurted, “Mary was murdered after all, and we have the evidence to prove it.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nick decided that if we were going to talk about the case, we’d at least do it by the fire. We were done eating, and the dishes could wait. Holly uncorked the wine, and we each took a glass into the living room. Nick and Holly sat on one couch, and Ellison and I took the other.

“For real, you guys can’t share any of what you are about to hear with anyone,” Nick said, his eyes intense.

“Scout’s honor.” Ellison held up what looked like the Vulcan salute from Star Trek, but I wouldn’t call him out.

“I promise,” I said. “Now what’s going on?”

Holly crossed her legs and smiled smugly. “Mr. We Don’t Have a Serial Killer, You’ve Just Been Watching Too Many Murder Shows has joined Team Serial Killer.”

“Not necessarily,” Nick said. “Dennis Sudbeck, the man who died in the shower, still could be an accidental death.”

“But Mary—” Holly started.

“Was murdered,” Nick admitted. “But that doesn’t mean the same killer took her life and Isabella Redstone’s.”

Ellison put his wineglass down on the coffee table. “Wait a minute. Back up. How do you know Mary was murdered?”

Nick leaned back into the couch cushions. “The autopsy results came back last night from the state medical examiner. She didn’t die from the blow to the head. She drowned.”

Ellison’s brow furrowed. “She could have fallen, hit her head, and drowned because she was unconscious.”

“Except that there was bruising on and around her neck consistent with pressure, with a struggle,” Nick said. “Someone held her down.”

Holly took a sip of wine. “They probably wanted to kill her with a swift hit to the head, but when that didn’t work, they used what was available. The creek.”

I held back a shudder. I could picture it perfectly in my head. Mary must have been so scared.

Nick put one arm up on the back of the couch and around his wife. “Her daughter and son-in-law live in Connecticut. They were notified about the autopsy results this morning, and they’re very upset—obviously. They don’t feel like the case has been given priority.”

Rightly so, I added silently.

“They’re threatening to go to the press,” Nick continued. “But until the press gets a hold of it, we need to try to keep this under wraps.”

“Why not warn people?” I asked. “If we have a serial killer—”

“Because we may not,” Nick cut in. “Mary and Isabella could be completely unrelated. We don’t want to set off a panic and destroy tourist season. Our small businesses depend on visitors. Besides we have no hard evidence that links the cases.”

He was starting to sound like Carol. “We have TheChristmasKiller,” I pointed out. “He or she posted again, claiming there will be more murders.”

I waited for Ellison to ask what fresh hell this was, but when I looked at him he just said, “Nick told me.”

“Is there anything you two don’t tell each other?” I asked.

Holly laughed and said, “Sadly, no.”

“So just another generic message,” Nick said. “Nothing that could tie the commenter to the crimes?”

“Other than calling themselves TheChristmasKiller, no,” I said sarcastically.

“But, again, anyone looking for attention or looking to cause trouble for the town could make those comments. That doesn’t mean—”

I put up a hand, not wanting to listen to this spiel again. “I know, I know.”

As if sensing my irritation, Ellison said, “Let’s spitball for a minute. What if we do have a serial killer? Let’s say they killed all three people, and they’re planning more. What do we know about them?”

Holly inched toward the edge of the couch. “Oh, I like this.”

I thought for a moment. “They want us scared. If it is the killer playing with us—with the social media comments and the creepy snowman—they’re not saying what they want. They’re just making threats and trying to keep us looking over our shoulder.”

“So, what’s the motive?” Nick asked.

“Serial killers don’t have a motive,” Holly said matter-of-factly. “It’s a compulsion.”

“Yeah, but usually there’s a pattern,” Ellison said. “There’s none here. The killer has murdered men and women, young and old. No common murder weapon or place.”

“Lots of serial killers choose their victim at random,” Holly said. “They see an opportunity and they take it.”

That made sense too. Especially in Mary’s case. Someone could have been walking the creek path, seen her all alone, and bam. But Dennis died in his hotel room. And the theatrical display of Isabella’s body took some planning.

Ellison rubbed the stubble on his chin. “There has to be something we’re not seeing. Something we’re not putting together.”

“They’re jerks,” I said.

Three very confused faces turned toward me.

I explained, “That’s what they have in common. I’m sorry to speak ill of the dead and all of that, but isn’t it true? I know Isabella was a terrible human. Carol mentioned that Mary had attitude problems.”

“And that Dennis man was a grump,” Holly said, draining the last of her wine. “He was complaining at every business he went into.”

“So someone is killing jerks?” Nick asked, trying his best not to laugh at my suggestion.

Holly shook her head. “That can’t be right. Ellison’s still alive.”

The three of them giggled at that, but I was serious. “I know it sounds silly, but it’s an idea.”

“There are also a lot of jerks in the world,” Nick said. “It could be a coincidence.”

Holly quickly dashed into the kitchen for another bottle and topped us all off. Settling back onto the couch with a mischievous grin, she asked, “So if the murderer is someone we know, who’s your guess?”

“No.” Nick waved his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is inappropriate now.”

Holly swatted his arm. “Don’t be the fun police. Ellison, you go first.”

“Suit Man,” Ellison said, too quickly. Like it was something he was already thinking.

Holly nodded slowly while rubbing her chin. “To ruin the town’s rep and get the land at a lower cost. I’ve thought of that too.”

“He’s got that whole sociopath look to him,” Ellison said, his lips turning down. “Never a hair out of place. He just rubs me the wrong way.”

“We can’t go arresting people because they rub us the wrong way,” Nick started.

“It’s a game!” Holly bellowed, putting a hand over Nick’s mouth. “Kelsey, you’re next.”

I thought for a long moment. “I think it’s someone we don’t know. Maybe a tourist on a longer stay who wants to ruin the magic we have here. Because why would someone who lives or works here want to destroy the town’s reputation and cause financial loss?”

“Minus points for not giving a name but bonus points for saying something that makes sense,” Holly said.

Nick crossed his arms. “I’m not taking a turn, so don’t even ask.”

“My turn, then.” Holly straightened her shoulders and paused for dramatic effect. “Sheriff Kris Whitman.”

“My boss?” Nick erupted. “You can’t be saying my boss is a serial—”

Holly and Nick yelled over each other, barely letting either finish a sentence.

“You have to admit he’s a creepy-ass—”

“You can’t say these things—”

“Something’s not right with that man—”

“Gonna get me fired—”

“Okay, okay.” Ellison held both hands out like he was trying to calm a schoolyard fight. “Why is he your choice, Holly?”

“Because of the deer story,” she said plainly.

Nick rolled his eyes. “I never should have even told you that.”

“What deer story?” I asked, since I seemed to be the only one who didn’t know it.

“You tell it, or I will,” Holly said.

Nick let out a sigh that seemed to come from his soul. “One time we got a call that there was a deer stuck on the ice of the pond. We went out to take a look. The poor thing was shaking, cold and terrified. The ice all around it had broken. It had no way back to the shore. Kris just shrugged his shoulders and said that’s too bad.”

I was never one to defend the sheriff, but this didn’t seem like a smoking gun. “I guess if he didn’t want to risk his life for an animal … it’s a little heartless?”

“We have a rubber boat that we bought for exactly this reason,” Nick said.

“Oh.” Well, that changed things a bit.

Nick continued, “I asked him if we should go get the boat and he said no. That we couldn’t risk personnel for a deer. I couldn’t understand it. Getting the boat out there wouldn’t have taken long. But he just didn’t care. It was like it was too much effort for him to save a life.”

“Maybe he’s just lazy,” Ellison said.

Holly raised a finger in the air. “Or he’s a sociopath.”

“What happened to the deer?” I asked, fully invested in this story now.

“I got the boat and saved it myself,” Nick said. “It would have been much easier as a two-man job, though, believe me.”

I’d had a distaste for the sheriff since the first night I met him, but this added a new layer. The fact that he couldn’t be bothered to save an innocent deer didn’t prove he was a killer of humans, though. But it was interesting.

Nick slapped his hands on his thighs. “So that’s the story, and that’s enough serial killer talk for one holiday when we’re supposed to be sharing what we’re thankful for.”

“So pious,” Holly said, rolling her eyes. “Refills anyone? I’m going to tackle the dishes.”

“No way.” I stood up. “I’ll do the dishes. You did all the cooking and hosting duties. You just relax.”

“I knew I liked this girl,” Holly said, already putting her feet up.

But Nick was shaking his head. “We can’t have a guest do the dishes.”

“Sure, you can,” Ellison said and stood up beside me. “I think it’s a great idea. I’ll help Kelsey, and our hosts can relax.”

We made our way to the kitchen, picking up serving dishes from the table as we passed. Ellison clearly felt at home here and helpfully knew where they kept the containers for leftovers. Completing domestic tasks with him was strangely romantic. He had me thinking thoughts I hadn’t had in a while. Not just sexy ones.

Images of a possible future rushed through my head. Laughing while we cooked together. Watching a movie on the couch under a shared blanket. Walking our rescue dog that we would name Blitzen. Okay, I was getting ahead of myself. But the point was things were shifting. After Trent cheated, I was ready to live the single life forever, no attachments. But now I was having these thoughts. I smiled to myself as I realized … I was healing.

“What are you smiling about?”

I turned to find him studying my face. “Nothing in particular. I’m just happy.”

“Well, that’s always good.” He opened the dishwasher and started loading plates after I scraped and rinsed them. “So, how’s the apartment hunting going?”

“It’s not. I’ve only visited one so far, and the landlord’s creep factor was off the charts. As was the smell of cat pee.”

“Eww.” He made a face.

I used a sponge on a particularly dried gravy stain. “There’s barely any available real estate, and I’m holding out to get one close to the town center.”

“Hey, maybe you’re the killer,” Ellison said with a playful smirk. “Ruining the town in the hopes that a cute one-bedroom opens up off Main Street.”

I pointed a dirty knife at him. “Don’t tell anyone my secret.”

He crossed his heart and put a finger to his lips. “The apartment across the hall from mine is empty half the year. Mrs. Wickstrom spends her winters in Florida now but refuses to sublet. Too bad.” He dropped his voice low. “I’d love to be your neighbor.”

I handed him a slippery plate, and our fingers touched. Such a small thing, but it made my heart stutter. “Um, so, where is your place anyway?”

“Right on Main Street above Candy Cane Dreams. We have roof access too, which can be pretty on clear, mild nights.”

I pictured myself sharing a blanket with him on the roof, staring at the stars. “Sounds like a dream.”

“As long as you can learn to ignore the amazing smells from downstairs.”

I didn’t think of that. Living above Candy Cane Dreams was dangerous. “I might become a hot cocoa addict.”

“There are worse things,” he assured me.

With the last fork loaded in the dishwasher, I dried my hands on a towel and turned around. Ellison leaned against the kitchen island. “About what Susie said,” he began.

“We don’t need to talk about her.” I didn’t want to waste one more moment thinking about Susie, Aaron, Trent, or anyone else. I just wanted to stare into those blue eyes. I wanted to inch closer to him, feel his hands on me, press my lips against his …

“But I’m worried that she got under your skin,” he said, a concerned edge to his voice. “I know I’m slow to open up. But I’ll get there. I promise you.”

If there was ever a time to do this, it was now. I’d been wanting to have this talk, and now I had my opening. “I’m going to be honest. I do feel a wall there. But it has nothing to do with Susie because I felt it before she pointed it out.” I took a step, closing the distance between us. “You know about my past before the move, but I don’t know anything about yours. And I feel like every time I bring it up, you decidedly do not want to talk about it.”

He gave me a casual shrug. “There’s not much to tell. I’m from a boring small town where nothing really happens.”

“In Maine?”

“In western Massachusetts.”

Progress. I had a state and regional area. “What made you move here?”

He turned away from me and started adjusting the placemats on the table. “I just wanted a change. I’d visited here once as a kid and thought the place was magic. So when I … needed a change, I felt pulled here.”

Just like me, I thought.

His eyes took on a faraway look. “Christmasville reminds me of people at their kindest and happiest. And I needed that. So, I waited tables for a bit until the retail space came on the market. It had been a trinket store, but we have several of those. We didn’t have a bookstore. So I snagged the lease and opened Snow Village Books. Things have been going pretty well until …”

“People started dying,” I filled in.

“Yeah. Hopefully this whole serial killer theory is wrong and the town returns to the safe place it once was.”

I waited for him to say more, but that seemed to be it for now. I couldn’t complain; he’d told me a lot. But there was still something he was holding back in that blank spot. What caused his “need for a change” and his need to see people at their kindest? I wanted to know, but I didn’t want to push him any further tonight. He’d already opened up more than he ever had before.

He came to my side and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What was his name? The boyfriend who hurt you.”

“Trent,” I said, the word tasting like sour milk on my tongue.

Ellison grimaced. “Trent? Well, that should have been the first sign.”

I smothered a laugh with my hand.

Ellison grabbed it and held it in his own, his thumb tracing circles and filling my body with warmth. “I’m sorry he did that to you. But I’m not sorry that you ended up here. If that makes sense.”

“It does,” I said. “Getting to know you has been amazing.”

My heart thumped relentlessly in my chest, so loud I was sure he could hear it. His eyes stared right into mine, then lower, at my lips.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he warned.

I let out a slow, shaky breath. “It’s about damn time.”

Our lips met, softly, gently. The sweetness made my heart ache. But then the kiss deepened and something else began to ache. I felt the kiss everywhere, in every inch of my body. He pulled me closer, and I willingly pressed myself against him. He let out a soft moan that nearly made me melt right onto the kitchen floor.

“What time do you want dessert?” Nick asked, strolling into the room. “Oh, uh, sorry, guys.”

“I told you not to go in there!” Holly yelled from the living room. “The fun police strikes again!”

Ellison and I broke apart, laughing, but still holding on to each other.

“Now is fine,” Ellison said, a little smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’d love some dessert.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I was still glowing the next morning when I got up for work. Thanksgiving couldn’t have gone better. I was making good, true friends here. Not to mention that kiss. I could still feel that kiss all the way to my toes. I dreamt about it all night.

But now I had to wipe the smile off my face and get into professional mode. We had a busy day ahead of us, and the holiday concert was tonight.

Which gave me a thought. I sent a quick text to Ellison.

Me: I need a date for the concert tonight. Any ideas?

He replied quickly. A good texter. I liked it. Unfortunately, he had bad news.

Ellison: Snow Village has extended hours tonight so I’ll be at work.

He added a few sad face emojis for good measure.

Me: It’s probably for the best. I need to be taking pics and video for our socials. I don’t need to be distracted by anyone too handsome.

Ellison: Maybe I can distract you later, after we both finish working? I get off at 10.

A surge of anxiety shot through me. A late-night date could mean horizontal tango time. Though we’d shared an Earth-shattering kiss, I didn’t know if I wanted to jump to that quite yet. We hadn’t even had an official date. But I didn’t not want to, either. My fingers hovered over the phone when a new text came in.

Ellison: We can grab some cocoas from downstairs and then I’ll show you the roof. No pressure, though. If you’re tired from a long day.

A relieved breath escaped my lips.

Me: Sounds good!

A hot cocoa date was exactly what I needed. But I brought my razor with me into the shower and wore a set of matching bra and panties, just in case I decided to call an audible.

Carol was already in her office when I got to work. Someone was in there with her, so I didn’t interrupt. I headed past and turned my lights on. I slipped out of my coat and hung it on the back of the door.

“Kelsey, stop in when you have a moment!” Carol called out.

I smoothed out any wrinkles from my black pants and headed over with a smile. “Good morning!”

The guest on the other side of the desk was an older woman with white hair held up in a wispy bun. She wore circular glasses, brown corduroy pants, and an oversized white cardigan. Quite the bohemian look, but she’d probably just been wearing the same style for decades.

“Kelsey, this is our choir director, Dorothy,” Carol said by way of introduction. “Dorothy, Kelsey manages our social media.”

Dorothy looked at me over the top of her glasses. “I don’t know anything about those Facechats and Snapgrams. I think they cause more trouble than they’re worth.”

Um, okay. That was only my career. I kept my pleasant—read fake—smile and said, “Well, I’m looking forward to taking photos and video at the concert tonight. It should be a wonderful evening, and I can’t wait to share it with everybody.”

Carol gave me a quick look that told me exactly how she felt about this woman. “Dorothy and I were just discussing the plan for the evening. As I was telling her, the businesses on Main Street are very excited for the foot traffic.”

Dorothy harumphed. I raised my eyebrows. Apparently she wasn’t as excited.

“So, where on the road will the show take place?” I asked.

“That’s the best part.” Carol smiled broadly. “Without a stage weighing us down, we can be more mobile. We’ll have the first song in front of the town hall. Then the choir will move down the street and stop in front of Candy Cane Dreams for the second song. Then move again, and so on.”

“Like traditional Christmas carolers,” I said.

Carol smacked her desk excitedly. “Exactly! See? Kelsey gets it.”

Dorothy practically snarled. “They’ve been practicing for months on a stage, not on a street.”

I could tell that they’d been having this argument a lot longer than in the past minute. Carol was obviously losing her patience. I saw that familiar fire in her eyes.

“Dorothy,” Carol snapped. “With all due respect, this isn’t West Side Story. Just sing the songs. Make the tourists happy.”

The woman grumbled something under her breath, grabbed her puffy coat, and left in a huff.

“See you tonight!” Carol called cheerily at her retreating back.

“Well, she’s just lovely,” I said when she was out of earshot.

Carol held her hands up in a what can you do pose. “Even small-town choirs can have divas.”

I pulled up an image on my phone and passed it to her. “Here’s the newest graphic I created to remind people of the place and time.”

“That’s perfect, Kelsey,” she said, taking a quick glance. “Have a seat, and let’s go over some details.”

I lowered myself down to the chair, unfortunately still warm from Dorothy’s butt, and took my phone back. “Yesterday’s analytics were great—increases in followers, likes, comments, and shares,” I reported. And no issues in the comments, which made me thankful. I checked those this morning before I even got out of bed. TheChristmasKiller apparently didn’t bother creating another account to continue trolling me. Yet.

Carol squinted at her computer screen, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head slightly. “Tonight’s forecast shows mild temps and no wind. So the weather is behaving.”

Let’s just hope the people do, I thought.

“We lucked out,” Carol said, clicking through forecast maps. “A nor’easter is on the way for late Sunday.”

“Why is that lucky?” I asked, leaning forward slightly in my chair.

“If a big storm rolls in on a Friday,” she explained, “visitors cancel for the whole weekend. But if the storm’s not arriving until late Sunday, they’ll still come—and just check out early in the morning. It doesn’t affect revenue at all.”

Well, thanks for that, Mother Nature, I thought, with a mental salute to the skies. “Are they saying how much we’re going to get?”

Carol spun her chair back toward the screen, clicking around with her mouse. “They still don’t know. The various models are showing widely different accumulation numbers. But the important thing is that it’s not snowing tonight!”

I nodded, shifting back into logistics mode. “I will be there all night to take pictures and videos. I’ll definitely add to our story as the night goes on. But I don’t think we should go live during the event.” I didn’t think I had to explain why, so I left that obvious part unsaid.

A grim look came over Carol’s face. “Yes, I agree. It’s best not to live stream.”

“And in good news, the local company Ice Art agreed to donate a large ice sculpture of Santa in return for a shoutout post. I’m sure a few visitors will post their own photos with it, which is always nice.”

“You know how I love free marketing,” Carol said, pleased. “Tell them to place the sculpture beside the front steps of the town hall.”

“Will do.” I typed it on my to-do list in my Notes app.

Carol’s fingers drummed rhythmically on the edge of her polished desk as she leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking softly beneath her. “How many entries do we have for the mural contest?”

“About four so far.”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then reached for her coffee mug and took a measured sip. “Okay, let’s keep it going for longer. I’d like to have at least a half dozen artists to choose from.”

I nodded, mentally calculating how much longer we should keep the contest going to gain those last few entrants.

“You’re doing a great job, Kelsey,” Carol said suddenly.

I looked up, surprised by the sudden change of subject. “Thank you.”

“I mean it. You’ve taken everything I’ve thrown at you and come up with innovative ideas on your own. We’ve been given some rough times here, and you’ve been a team player.” She paused and added with a small smile, “I know that sometimes I can be a lot—”

“Nooo,” I said, denying what we both knew was the truth.

She clasped her hands on top of her desk. “I just wanted to make sure you know that you are valued.”

My face warmed at the compliment. I didn’t think I’d heard that once in my last job, and my performance was just as good. I gave them years of my life, sixty hours a week, with layers of stress, and I’d never felt valued. A lump formed in my throat. Carol might just have been saying this so that I wouldn’t quit and flee from Serialkillerville. Or it could have been a genuine moment. Either way, I appreciated it.

“That means a lot,” I said, my voice tight.

Carol cleared her throat and straightened in her seat. “Now go get me more followers! I want Main Street packed tonight!” She shooed me out of her office and back to my own.

I had a little extra pep in my step now. It was always nice to get a compliment. Beyond that, I did think, despite what the town had been through, we would get a packed event tonight. I only hoped everyone stayed safe.

Chapter Twenty-Five

After a productive afternoon at work, I ate a quick dinner in my room. As much as I’d never enjoyed cooking, I was starting to get sick of takeout. I really needed my own apartment soon. I changed into warmer layers for my night outside, unplugged my phone from the charger, and headed downstairs.

The lobby wasn’t as busy as it had been over the past day or two, but the inn had nothing on the schedule for this timeframe. People were either out at dinner or already strolling Main Street in preparation for a night of live music. Rudy and Jack sat in the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, eating slices from a box of takeout pizza. Even though he was much older and not family, I was glad Rudy had Jack in his life. No one could replace his father, of course, but it must have been nice to have Jack around all the time.

“Hey, guys!” I said, stopping by. The fire crackled and cast enough heat that I felt it several feet away.

“How’s your day going?” Jack asked. His face looked even more tired than normal, and his cane rested by the edge of the chair.

“Pretty well,” I said. “I’m heading out to take photos of the concert.”

“I’m going too!” Rudy piped up. “My friend Joy is the youngest singer in the choir.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’ll keep an eye out for her.” I slipped on my gloves, ready to head out, when Grace appeared by my side.

“Did you pick up that grocery order?” she asked, out of breath. A few beads of sweat glistened on her brow. She’d probably been busy doing the jobs of three full-timers at once.

“I’ll do it in the morning,” Rudy said, picking up a new slice and taking a bite.

Grace pressed her fingers against her temples. “The order includes things we need for breakfast. That’s why I asked you to pick it up this afternoon.”

He slumped in his chair. “I was going to go to the concert.”

“You still can. There’s plenty of time. The grocery order is ready, it will take you ten minutes to pick it up.” She turned her attention to Jack. “Did you get that new towel rack from the hardware store?”

“Oh, uh, I didn’t get around to it,” Jack said guiltily.

“Well, room nine has no towel rack since their old one pulled out of the wall. I told the couple I’d have a new one installed today.” Frustration edged her voice.

Jack wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’ll head out right now.”

Grace marched off without even saying hi to me, but I wasn’t insulted. She barely had enough time to breathe lately. I gave the guys—who stood and began cleaning up their pizza crumbs—a short nod and headed out.

When I reached Main Street, my eyes widened. The sparkling lights seemed to glimmer even brighter than normal, strewn on every lamppost, telephone pole, and building. The closed-off street was jam-packed with people. Varying smells—from coffee to chocolate—carried out the doors and on the wind. People carried warm drinks and sugary treats, stopped to admire window displays, and—my personal favorite—posed for photos.

I grabbed two coffees from a street vendor and wove my way through the crowd looking for Carol. Both ends of the street were blocked off with orange cones and bright yellow barricades. It felt kind of fun to walk right down the middle of the road. The merry feeling was contagious. Every person I passed had a smile and a cheery glow.

Carol stood on the town hall steps, surveying her domain with a smile on her face. The Santa ice sculpture had arrived and looked even better than I’d expected. Reflections of twinkle lights shimmered off of his pudgy ice cheeks.

“Everything looks great,” I said, handing Carol a coffee.

She gladly took it and tapped my cup in cheers. “We should close the street every year for the concert. Make it a new tradition.”

“Or a holiday stroll or sidewalk sale,” I suggested, knowing Dorothy would blow her stack if we did this to her choir every year.

Carol took a sip and nodded. “Great idea. Love that.”

Sheriff Kris walked by slowly, hands behind his back in an attempt to look casual. He nodded at people as he passed. Nope, not on the lookout for a possible serial killer. Just normal crowd control!

“Carol,” he said as he passed by us.

“Kris.” She returned the greeting with equal enthusiasm.

I didn’t get a greeting. But that was fine. Any other interaction I’d had with him was either creepy or ended with him accusing me or a friend of murder. I gave him the stink eye behind his back.

Nick, on the other hand, I liked. I spied him by the blocked-off end of the street, arms crossed, keeping an eye on everything.

“I’m going to wander,” I told Carol.

“Get good photos!” she said with a wave.

I took one of Carol herself beside the ice sculpture before I moved on. Then I posted it to our story with the text, “Mayor Carol is ready for the Holiday Concert!” over the image. The crowd seemed even thicker now as I meandered through.

Gazing around, I looked for anyone suspicious. It wasn’t like serial killers had a uniform. As much as they enjoyed playing with me anonymously online, they weren’t going to show up here wearing a T-shirt saying, “It’s me!” But maybe I’d get a bad vibe from someone hanging out alone, on the outskirts, hat hung low, wearing sunglasses at night.

Before my imagination ran wild, I reined it back in. I did not have serial killer radar, and catching this person wasn’t my job. Not ending up their next victim was definitely on my task list, though.

I’d reached the end of the blocked-off area and decided to make a quick visit with Nick.

“Hey, Kels,” he said as I approached.

“Everything look okay?” I asked, my unease palpable.

He nodded. “So far, so good. Though I don’t think our … troublemaker … would do anything in a crowd this big. All their other … acts … were done in private.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You don’t need to use alternate words. People know what’s happened.”

He shrugged and crossed his arms. “Still, best not to remind them.”

An older woman in a fur-lined hat stopped by us, “Officer, when is the concert starting?”

“Any minute, ma’am,” he said with a smile.

She walked off, pleased and looking forward to a festive night. Even if she was a tourist from far away, she must have heard about Isabella’s murder; it had made national news. But she didn’t know that Mary was also murdered. None of these people did. And that made me uncomfortable. Were we knowingly putting them in harm’s way? Didn’t they deserve to have all the facts to make a decision for themselves whether or not their weekend away was worth the risk?

Nick would only say that it was commonplace not to share every detail with the public from an open investigation. That it was irresponsible to the townspeople who needed the tourists to make the leap and assume the cases were related. So I didn’t bother bringing up the guilt that rolled around in my belly. That I knew something all of these people didn’t.

“Is Holly around?” I asked. I could hang with her for a bit during the concert. Crack a few jokes to ease my anxiety. I always felt better around Holly.

But Nick shook his head. “She’s at the café.”

“I thought she only opened for breakfast and lunch.”

“Usually. But with all of these people steps away, she couldn’t resist the siren song of cash.”

I snorted a little laugh and turned to go. “All right, I’ll leave you to it, Officer.”

“Kelsey …” His voice was different. Stronger.

I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“If you do see anything suspicious, let me know.”

As confident as he’d wanted to seem that the killer wouldn’t strike, it was obvious that he wasn’t sure.

“Will do,” I promised, and immersed myself back into the crowd.

I moved up onto the sidewalk and took a video, panning the masses. I rewatched it and decided to hit discard. The visual was pretty, but it would be much better with the audio of the choir in the background.

Speaking of, the crowd parted as a group of men and women came down the middle of the street, single file, led by Dorothy in the front. The women wore red dresses, and the men were in black suits. They seemed to range in age from teen to elderly. They stopped in front of the town hall, where Carol was clearing people from the steps to make room.

At Dorothy’s cue, they lined up immediately into three rows, tallest in the back. Dorothy might not win any personality awards, but she ran a tight ship. A moment later, after more hand motions from Dorothy, the choir began “Deck the Halls” in perfect harmony.

I took a few close-up shots, then moved back to my position on the sidewalk to record the crowd enjoying the evening. Every face was turned toward the choir except one.

Aaron was watching me.

Flustered, I looked down to rewatch the video. Good enough, I figured, and posted it to our story. By the time I looked back up again, Aaron was gone.

I made my way to the sidewalk and peeked into the window of Holly’s Bakery. She gave me a big wave. Her line ran halfway to the door, but she looked delighted, not frazzled. I moved a few businesses down to Snow Village Books next. Alma occupied the register. Only one person was in line, but several customers milled about the store. I didn’t see Ellison anywhere.

He was probably helping someone in an aisle or grabbing stock from the back. I saw a flash of flannel out of the corner of my vision and hurried past the window. I didn’t want him to think I was spying. He’d had enough of that from his ex.

The choir started “Winter Wonderland” next and seamlessly moved from the town hall down the street to stop in front of the Silver Bell. A crowd followed them, faces gleaming with holiday cheer. I raised my phone and recorded a few more clips.

A tap on my shoulder startled me, and I spun around to face the last person I wanted to see.

Creepy trucker hat guy. A smirk tugged at his chapped lips.

“Remember me?” he asked, his voice rough with smoke and something darker.

How could I forget? He’d already tripped every internal alarm I had since I first saw him looming in the shadows on Main Street. His behavior at the rental unit only solidified my instincts. Something about him buzzed in my nerves like faulty wiring.

“Billy,” I said, forcing my voice steady. “Of course. The landlord, right?” Landlord of the Cat Pee Palace.

His lecherous grin widened. “I knew you’d remember me. The rental is still available, you know.”

I thought about lying and saying I’d found somewhere else. But it wouldn’t be too hard to find out that I still lived at the inn, and I didn’t want any trouble from this guy.

“Thank you, but I decided to wait until one came available within walking distance to work.”

“And where do you work?”

My eyes looked around for someone to save me from this conversation. “The town hall.”

He smiled, showing all of his yellow-stained teeth. “Oh, that’s right. I knew that. For some reason.”

A cold weight settled in my chest. He was still smiling, still standing too close. Too eager. Too interested in things that weren’t his business. Almost like he wanted me to take notice of how creepy he was. Could he be the killer we were looking for?

I had no evidence, just vibes, but it was enough that I knew I needed an escape route.

I caught sight of Angelica not too far away, and even though I only knew her from the inn, and we weren’t actually friends, she’d have to do. I pointed vaguely at the crowd. “You’ll have to excuse me, Billy. My friend is here.”

Without giving him a chance to continue this weirdness any further, I darted into the street, nearly knocking into Angelica.

“Sorry,” I said, grabbing hold of her arm. “Will you look happy to see me and pretend that we’re, like, good friends for a sec?”

Her face lit up. “Kelsey!” she yelled in an exaggerated fashion and threw her arms around my neck. “Who are we performing this for?” she whispered in my ear.

“Creeper in a trucker hat about ten feet behind me,” I said.

“Oh, he’s watching, all right.” She pulled back, keeping her fake smile on. “So, let’s chat. You still enjoying the inn?”

“Yeah,” I breathed. In her presence, my pulse started to return to normal. “But it’s starting to feel a bit cramped. I really wish a good rental would open up.”

“Well, if the town’s body count keeps growing, I’m sure there will be some openings soon.”

“Is he still watching?” I asked.

Her eyes nonchalantly scanned the area. “Nah, I can’t see him. He gave up.”

I risked a look over my shoulder, but Billy had either gone into one of the businesses or melted into the crowd. The choir moved on to “Jingle Bell Rock,” and many in the audience swayed and clapped along.

“Thanks,” I said, not even trying to hide my relief. “I owe you one.”

Angelica wrapped one of her long curls around her finger. “In that case, I have a question.”

“Shoot,” I said, already having a feeling what this was about. If the expression on her face that night at the Silver Bell meant anything, she had a raging crush on Aaron.

“Is there anything romantic between you and Aaron Chambers?” she asked.

“We’re only friends,” I assured her with a grin. “He’s all yours, if you’re interested.”

She bit her lower lip to stop a smile from overtaking her face. “He’s so hot. All of those suits. His closet is full of them.”

So, apparently she snooped through some rooms when she cleaned them.

“I knew you guys were only friends,” she said happily. “I’d heard rumors about you and Ellison Shaw instead.” She wagged her eyebrows suggestively.

My cheeks warmed at the mere mention of him. But Ellison and I hadn’t had any official talk or anything yet, so I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and continue the rumors. But I had no reason to deny it either. Instead, I just smiled.

Angelica gave my arm a playful slap. “You lucky girl. He’s hot too.”

“Where did you hear that we might have something going on?” I asked, curious.

She made a face. “Have you met Susie McCulley?”

“Oh, have I,” I said. “No further explanation necessary.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that one.”

“Thanks. And thank you for helping me back there.”

“My pleasure, actually.” She gave my arm a little squeeze. “Us girls have to stick together.”

I left Angelica to hang out with her actual friends and spied someone else from the inn. Jack wove his way through the crowd with a surprising lightness, nodding along to the beat, tapping his fingers against a coffee cup. No cane. No stiff-legged shuffle. Just … walking. Easily. Not at all like the man I saw struggling to do his job at the inn.

I blinked, half expecting the illusion to snap. But no—he even gave a little bounce in time to the music. A chill prickled at the base of my skull.

Why fake being feeble? Why pretend to have back pain and use a cane when you could move like that? My pulse hummed in my throat as one possibility rose above all others.

To cover up the fact that he was still strong enough to kill a person and drag their body under a tree.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Curious—and more than a little uneasy—I made my way toward him.

“Hey, Jack,” I said, stepping into his path.

He looked up, surprised but friendly, and tugged off his knit cap. His hand raked through his messy gray hair like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Oh, hey, Kelsey! I love the street closure. Great idea by you or Carol.”

“Thanks,” I said, letting my eyes sweep up and down. “You seem to be getting around much better than earlier today.”

A rush of color came over his cheeks. “Yeah, the stiffness comes and goes. Arthritis. It’s unpredictable.”

“Right,” I said, flatly. “Unpredictable.”

His gaze dropped. He shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck. “I know how it must look. I just … do what I have to. If I had my way, I’d be retired by now. But I love Grace and Rudy like they’re family, and I don’t want to leave them in the lurch.”

I didn’t say anything—just waited—and let the silence stretch.

His eyes flicked up to mine, and I caught something in them—guilt? Or calculation?

He sighed. “Truth is, I exaggerate a little. The aches are real but not as bad as I let on. Grace pushes too hard sometimes. Thinks I’m still forty. I limp a little and she backs off.” He gave me a sheepish look. “It’s bad, I know. But I’m just trying to get through the day. Since Robert passed away, we have the same amount of work but one less man to help out.”

I tilted my head. “So, the cane’s a prop?”

“A little insurance policy,” he admitted, chuckling nervously. “Please don’t tell Grace. She’d kill me.”

I studied him for a second longer, then leaned in. “Your secret’s safe with me, Jack.”

He grinned with relief and clapped me on the shoulder—firm, steady, no sign of frailty. “You’re a good one, Kelsey.”

I smiled back, but as he turned and walked away—easy as anything—it took me an extra moment to recalibrate. His excuse was believable. He was a sweet older man who liked playing Santa, not a killer.

I merged back into the masses as “Jingle Bell Rock” ended and “The First Noel” began. My eyes swept the area for more photo opportunities. I recognized many faces from town. It seemed like everyone was there. A handsome couple cuddled up against each other in front of Candy Cane Dreams, newly purchased hot cocoas in their hands. One man leaned his head on the shoulder of his partner. I framed the shot between light-strewn lampposts. Perfect.

Then my eyes were drawn to the side. Susie stood in front of the door beside Candy Cane Dreams. Her hand was on the handle, like she’d been about to open it. But then she saw me. Our eyes locked, and something passed across her face—something unreadable. Her grip on the handle loosened, and she changed course, stepping away from the door and heading straight for me.

Oh no. Here we go.

I stifled a groan and resisted the urge to turn and walk in the other direction. My legs were sore, my patience thin, and I was absolutely not in the mood for whatever brand of crazy she was about to unload.

She was moving fast, her black coat flaring out behind her like a cape. I raised a hand as she approached. “I’m working,” I said quickly. “I don’t have time for—”

“I’m sorry.”

The words hit like a snowball to the chest—cold and unexpected. I blinked. “O … kay.”

She stopped in front of me, face flushed, her breath clouding in the cold air. “I shouldn’t have involved you in my stuff with Ellison. I shouldn’t have said those things at the bakery. And I definitely shouldn’t have followed you in the hedge maze.”

I stared, mouth open. “Wait. That was you?”

She nodded. “I admit it.”

I had been right. I had seen a flash of her red hair.

“Why?” I asked, a knot forming in my gut.

“Because I wanted you gone. Simple as that.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “I wanted to scare you away. But none of that matters now.”

I didn’t know why she’d had a sudden change in ethics, but I was glad for it. “So, you’re going to stop?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll leave you alone. I promise.”

I crossed my arms, still wary. “And TheChristmasKiller stuff?”

Her brow creased. “What?”

“The fake account that’s been posting under the handle TheChristmasKiller,” I said. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Her face twisted in confusion. “Not me, Kelsey.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Really?”

She shrugged, palms open like she had nothing to hide. “I’ve done some petty stuff, I’ll admit that. But I’m not trolling you online. When I have something to say, I say it to your face.”

As strange as it was … I believed her.

She’d just confessed to stalking me through a hedge maze in an effort to scare me, why lie about trolling me on social media.

“Anyway,” she said with a big grin. “None of that matters now. See ya!”

I was still so stunned at the fact that she’d actually come up and apologized to me, that by the time I thought to ask why she thought that didn’t matter now, she was already back to the door she’d intended on opening earlier.

She stopped and cast one last glance at me over her shoulder. Like she wanted to make sure I was watching her, for some reason. Once it was clear that I’d seen, she gave me a smug smile and went in.

Okay, whatever, I thought, turning back to face the choir. But then I remembered where that door led. Behind it was a staircase that went up to the second and third floor apartments. Ellison’s place was on the second floor above Candy Cane Dreams.

No, I thought. First, even though I didn’t see him there, I knew he was at work. Second, just no. He wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t Trent. There were other apartments on those two floors above the stores, including the empty one owned by the woman who spent her winters in Florida. Maybe Susie watered her plants. Who knew? It was none of my business what she was heading up there for. I wasn’t going to let her rattle me or let my mind go to the worst-case scenario.

I found a few more photo opportunities, sharing some immediately to stories and saving others for a post tomorrow. Then I slipped my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and allowed myself to take a minute off and enjoy the music. The choir had moved closer down the road, their voices echoing off the buildings. They truly were talented.

They began “Silent Night” next, their voices carrying clear and strong. I stared up at the sky as unexpected flurries began to spiral down. The crowd loved it—squealing, spinning, and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. It was a perfect holiday moment. While the urge to record pulled at me, I just wanted to experience it for a few seconds. To be in the moment. I gazed up in awe, wondering how a place could be so beautiful.

Then something else fell from the sky. My brain couldn’t register it at first, couldn’t make sense of what I was seeing. But then I realized that the tangled mess of limbs and clothes was a person, and they fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

The first scream to pierce the night air was my own.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Call 911!” someone yelled. “We need an ambulance!”

I stepped closer, trying to maintain composure as the details made their way to my brain. Her legs were bent at an unnatural angle. Her eyes stared, unseeing, at the stars above. Blood pooled under her head, but her long red hair fanned out like angel wings.

Susie was dead.

The screams had stopped, turning to strangled cries and panicked murmurs. People had taken either of two choices—run away or crowd around the body. One man even took his phone out. He was about to photograph her—dead and vulnerable—an obscene act.

Nick grabbed him by the scruff and effortlessly tossed him aside. “Everyone stay back!”

“She killed herself,” a woman said, her voice relaying her shock. “Right in front of us.”

Nick’s eyes cut to the woman. “Did you see her jump from the roof?”

“No,” the woman said, confused. “But …” She gestured toward the ground like jumping had been the obvious cause.

But Nick and I knew Susie could have been the victim of foul play. He looked at me and something unspoken passed between us.

“I need everyone to move back!” he hollered. “This is a crime scene!”

People stepped backward, clutching each other. Cold, rosy cheeks drained of color. The choir’s carols had turned to sobs. My eyes flicked from face to face, and all I saw was trauma reflected back.

Nick knelt by the body, checking for any signs of life. She’d fallen from the roof. Three stories. Was it possible to survive from that height? But as I asked the question with my eyes, he gave me a sad shake of his head.

The sheriff pushed his way through the crowd, huffing like he’d just run a marathon. Two more officers—ones I didn’t know—arrived shortly after. Kris barked orders while they tried to secure the scene.

Then Kris turned toward the thinning crowd. “Who saw something? Anyone?”

“She fell from the roof,” a teen girl said with a shaky voice.

“Did you see her up there?” Kris asked. “Was she alone? Did she trip, jump, what?”

The girl shook her head. “I didn’t see.”

“Did anyone see?” He bellowed. “Was anyone taking pictures? Video?”

Only silence and shaking heads answered him. Even if someone had been recording, they wouldn’t have been zoomed in on a random roof. They would have been recording the concert or taking pictures at street level.

I didn’t think the killer could strike with this many people here. But they found a way. My body trembled as the shock gave way to realization. This was real. This had actually happened. We never should have held the event. We put all of these people in danger. My breaths started coming faster and shorter.

Susie’s creepy smile as she opened the door to the building rose from my memory. Why had she done that? What did it mean? Was she planning to jump, and she wanted me to see her face right before? What purpose would that serve?

I rubbed my temples as my head started to pound. The crowd was dispersing faster now. The killer could be among them, but we would have no way to know. If they’d been on the roof with Susie, they’d had plenty of time to come back and disappear into the crowd with all of the screams and chaos. My mind whirred and spun, and soon the world was spinning with it. Dark spots edged in on my vision.

“Hey, hey.” Two warm arms wrapped themselves around me.

I looked up into Ellison’s concerned eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Yeah, you look like you might faint, but I’ve got you.” His voice was soft and smooth, like melted caramel, and I closed my eyes and lost myself in it.

Time and place seemed to fade away. I was gone, somewhere else. But when I came back, I was bouncing, weightless in the air. A soft fabric caressed my cheek. I slowly opened my eyes and blinked until they adjusted. A quick check of my surroundings confirmed I was not on Main Street. In fact, I was almost to the front door of the inn. I turned my head to see better and figured out what was happening. Ellison was carrying me.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“It’s no problem,” he said, his eyes focused on the road ahead. “We have to get you safe and sound.”

The night and its details came back to me, but the panic didn’t return. My breathing was steady and normal. But I had no idea how Ellison planned on getting me inside and up those stairs.

“I’m good now,” I said. “I can walk.”

He carried me a few more steps. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” I said, though I honestly wasn’t. I wouldn’t know for sure until I tried to stand on my own.

He carefully set me down but kept his arms around me. I stood about as confidently as a newborn deer for the first few seconds but then found my footing.

“I’m good,” I said, trying to convince myself more than him.

But after a few steps, I realized I was fine. The dizziness was gone but soon replaced by a rush of embarrassment. I kept my head down in the lobby, past a cluster of people openly weeping. We took the stairs slowly, Ellison keeping one protective hand on my elbow.

At my door, I looked up at him. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”

His eyebrows raised in question. “For what?”

“I don’t know. Fainting. Causing a scene. Making you carry me after I had a huge takeout dinner.”

He let out a soft laugh. “You did not cause a scene. I’m pretty sure everyone’s attention was on something else. I don’t blame you for fainting. You witnessed something horrific. Something no one should have to see.”

“Are you okay?” I asked, looking up into his eyes. Susie was his ex, and she’d stalked him, but at some point in time he had to have feelings for her.

“I’m still processing, to be honest,” he said. “It hasn’t hit me yet. My first instinct when I heard the screams was to find you and get you to safety.”

I stared down at the worn burgundy carpet. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was supposed to be a good night. The open space, the crowd, was supposed to keep us all safe. I was supposed to be under a blanket with Ellison, staring at the stars. Susie was supposed to be alive—probably stabbing a Kelsey Hendricks voodoo doll, but alive.

“This wasn’t what I had in mind for our after-work date,” I said softly.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. “We have all the time in the world for that.”

I gazed up into his eyes. “Do you want to come in?” I wouldn’t mind not being alone.

“I wish I could, but I need to head back and close up. When I heard the screaming, I just bolted, and I left poor Alma behind in the store. She knows how to lock up, but I just want to make sure everything’s okay. Also, I want to check in with Nick, see what’s going on. See if I can help in any way.”

As my mind absorbed his words, all I could think was that I’d gone to the woods of Maine and found a real-life unicorn. He was a good man. He cared about his community, wanted to help people, hired little old ladies, and somehow, through some miracle, he wanted me.

“Of course,” I said, not wanting to hold him back. “Go help.”

I rooted through my pockets for the key card and unlocked the door.

“Let me just take a peek first,” he said, and I was more than happy to let him look around. That would save me the heart attack of checking the closet and then ripping open the shower curtain with my straight iron brandished as a weapon.

He returned a minute later. “You’re all good. Just lock the deadbolt after you close the door.”

“I will,” I promised.

“Don’t open it for anyone.”

“Not even you?” A teasing grin lifted the side of my mouth.

“Just for me.”

He touched my cheek, brushing a rogue strand of hair from my face. Then his fingers trailed down to my chin and gently tilted my face up. His lips brushed against mine in a sweet but painfully short kiss. He tasted like mint and candy canes and good things. When our lips broke apart, he pulled me in for a hug. His arms were strong and warm, and I felt safe. I wanted to melt into him and cling to him forever. But I knew he had to go.

I stepped backward into my room, his eyes never leaving mine until the door closed. I watched through the peephole as he stood sentinel. He didn’t leave until he heard the click of my deadbolt.

After a night like that I figured I’d never sleep, but the opposite happened. As soon as I burrowed under the thick comforter, my consciousness slipped away. Every muscle in my body felt worn and tired. I knew I didn’t have to get up for work, so I hadn’t set an alarm. When my eyes drifted open, sunlight was peeking through the edge of the closed drapes. I checked the time and realized I’d slept ten hours. I guess trauma can do that to a person.

I eased myself up to sitting, and the details of the night before came rushing back. I shoved away the image of Susie’s dead, unseeing eyes. The sounds of the screams. The blood. I fought against my rising panic. I wouldn’t let that take hold again like it had last night. I had to remain clearheaded if I wanted to think this through.

Would Susie have jumped? She’d definitely proven that she was mentally unstable, but enough to take her own life publicly in a way that would traumatize tourists and townspeople? That didn’t make sense to me. I wondered if the police found any evidence of another person on the roof. A killer who only needed to deliver one big push to take his next victim. But how would they know Susie was heading up to the roof? More important, why would she have been going there?

I reached for my phone, hoping to find some answers in my alerts. But my only text was from Carol.

Can you meet me at the office?

So much for having the day off. Since it was a Saturday, and I hadn’t planned on working—even before witnessing a death—I’d scheduled posts to automatically run. Now I had to rethink that. I tried to remember what the posts were even about, but my brain wasn’t working yet. I needed a shower and coffee, stat.

I wrote back:

Be there in an hour.

Showering and dressing helped to drag me out of sleep’s fuzzy kingdom. I pulled on my coat and gloves. I’d just grab a pastry and coffee to go and eat it at the office. But when I got downstairs, I was faced with chaos.

The last time I saw a line this long in the lobby, it was people waiting to check in. But I feared the opposite was happening now. The guests’ faces showed fear, frustration, and impatience. Rudy and Jack were loading carts with luggage to help guests bring their belongings to their cars. Grace looked as frazzled as I’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry, but our policy states that we do not issue refunds for early departures,” she explained to a red-faced man at the front desk.

“Even if someone in town is killing people? We can’t even leave early then?” he bellowed.

“You can leave whenever you like,” she said calmly. “But you will be charged for the entire duration of your reservation.”

He slapped his hand on the desk. “Get ready for the worst reviews of your life. I’m going to post about my experience here everywhere!” He stormed off, and the next guest approached the desk, probably ready to argue against the same policy.

The breakfast area was trashed—dirty tables, empty serving platters. Apparently, everyone had gotten up early this morning. Only one slice of bread remained. But at least there was coffee. I filled a to-go cup and cut through the line of angry customers in the lobby to get out the front door.

A sense of unease settled into my bones as I walked to work. What was once magical now felt ominous. Main Street was down to one lane with an officer stationed to direct traffic. Police crime scene tape and yellow cones blocked off the area where Susie’s body had lain. Even the door to the staircase was blocked off, with an officer guarding it. I wondered briefly how Ellison could get in and out of his apartment.

Rather than the laughter and chatter of tourists, the town was once again crawling with news vans. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact. As I passed one crew, I overheard a woman reporting live.

In that monotone voice, she said, “We have just confirmed that it was, in fact, a murder. So, we have two confirmed murders here in Christmasville. On top of that, we have received an anonymous tip that there were two prior suspicious deaths that were also possible murders. But authorities have not yet confirmed that report. So, we have to ask, does this picture-perfect town have a serial killer?”

I shivered against the cold wind. Things were about to change here and not for the better. I jogged up the town hall steps and went inside. The phone at the unmanned front desk rang incessantly. Every office was closed and dark except for Carol’s. I took the last sip of my coffee and went in.

“Kelsey!” Carol said. “Thank you for coming. The sheriff should be here any moment with an update. Don’t answer any phones. I’m pulling together a statement.” The words poured out of her on full blast as she paced the office, picking up items and searching underneath.

“Can I help you find something?” I asked.

“Here it is!” She straightened, holding a pen up in the air in victory. “My favorite pen. I can’t work without my favorite pen.”

I recognized the signs of panic rushing through her. She needed me. I was glad she’d asked me to come in. I slipped out of my coat and hung it on the back of the guest chair, then sat down.

“What can I do?” I asked. “Do you need a second set of eyes for the statement?”

“Yes, definitely.” She eased herself down to her seat. “Even though we all know the truth, we have to be sensitive.”

“The truth?” I repeated, confused.

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Everyone knows that girl was unhinged. She clearly decided to kill herself because you’re moving on with her man.”

“What?” I gasped. Had Carol not heard the same news the reporters outside had? Or was she so lost in her Christmas fantasy world that she refused to accept it?

“I’m not accusing you of anything, dear,” she continued. “It’s not your fault the girl killed herself.”

“She didn’t kill herself,” a gruff voice announced.

The sheriff stood in the doorway. He had bags under his eyes the size of Santa’s toy sacks. He’d clearly been up all night.

“How would you know that?” Carol asked defensively.

He crossed his arms over his portly belly and leaned tiredly against the doorjamb. “Because she was lured to the roof. She had a text on her phone from someone asking her to meet there.”

“Who?” I asked.

His eyes cut to mine. “We’re not releasing that information quite yet. But soon.”

Carol scoffed. “Just because someone met her up there, that doesn’t mean they pushed her. She could have tripped. She could have gotten depressed over what the person said and—”

“Carol,” Kris interrupted. “We have to face reality here.” He counted off on his fingers. “Isabella Redstone. Susie McCulley. Mary Babbage’s family is going to the press. And the Dennis Sudbeck case is officially reopened. We’re bringing in reinforcements from the state. The FBI might even get involved.”

Carol sat as still as a statue for one long moment. Then her lower lip began to tremble. “It’s all over, isn’t it? They’re all going to leave.”

Kris gave a sympathetic sigh. “At this point, we need to focus on safety rather than the economy.”

Her face crashed into her hands. “I couldn’t save them,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “So many businesses need this month to survive.”

I didn’t want her to break down and cry. Not in front of the sheriff. And not when we needed her leadership the most.

“They’ll be fine,” I said, forcing an unnatural level of optimism into my voice. “Business owners save for bad times. And this is a bad time. They’ll scrimp, they’ll cut, and they’ll make it through to the other side.”

Though, even as I said the words, I knew that wasn’t true for everyone. Namely the Christmas Creek Inn. Grace had told me they didn’t even have the money to hire an extra person. She may lose it all. But we had to stay positive and keep the town running.

Carol lifted her eyes to mine. “We need to go dark. No posts.”

I nodded, agreeing completely. “Should I interact with comments?”

“No, it would just encourage more,” she said. “My statement should suffice—for now.”

That felt weird. Without posting or dealing with comments, I didn’t know what else to do. This wasn’t the best time to try to negotiate new partnerships with businesses. “So, I do … nothing?”

“For now,” Carol said. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get paid …”

Her voice trailed off, and I filled in the obvious for now. If the town needed to cut someone from the budget, I was the newest hire. And Carol could just do my job poorly like she’d been doing it before. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I could lose my job. My new life here. My new friends. Ellison. Everything.

“I need to head back,” Kris said. “We obviously have a lot going on at the moment.”

“I’ll need to rewrite my statement,” Carol muttered. “But maybe if we have a positive spin.” She paused. “Sheriff, you have a name from the text. Will you be making an arrest?”

He looked up from his phone. “It’s happening right now.”

“W-who is it?” I stammered. If the person who sent the text killed Susie, then he or she most likely killed the others as well. This murder mystery could be over and solved. Maybe everything wouldn’t spiral to hell. Maybe we could reclaim the rest of the season if the killer was caught.

Kris’s eyes shifted to mine, and I froze in my seat.

“Who is it?” I asked again.

“I have to go,” he said plainly.

He marched off, and I turned to Carol for some sort of explanation. She shrugged, equally as confused. It seemed like he didn’t want to say the name in front of me. He certainly didn’t think I did it, or I’d be sitting here in cuffs right now. So, the only other explanation was … no.

I shot up from my seat, leaving my coat behind and rushing to the door.

“Kelsey, wait!” Carol called. “Where are you going? We have to work on the statement!”

The cold wind stung my face as I pushed open the door and darted down the steps. The news crews were clumped together down the street. Their cameras were focused on a police cruiser parked in front of the door where Susie went up to the roof.

“Hey, watch it,” someone snarled as I stepped on a foot.

I couldn’t tear my eyes from that door. The sheriff had made his way to the area and stood beside the cruiser. The news crews and lookie-loos muttered and speculated. Then the door opened, and the crowd gasped.

A female officer led Ellison out, his hands handcuffed, his hair disheveled. Kris opened the back door of the cruiser and put his hand on the top of Ellison’s head, ready to guide him into the car.

“Is that the killer?” someone shouted.

“What’s his name?” a woman yelled.

A monotone voice reported, “We are looking at live footage of a suspect’s arrest in the Christmasville slayings.”

Ellison’s eyes scanned the crowd, panicked and wild. He found me, and my heart hammered in my chest.

“I didn’t do it,” he mouthed. “I didn’t do it.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The only work I managed to accomplish was to delete the posts that were scheduled to go up today. Christmasville was going dark. No photos of happy families. No advertising upcoming events. No responding to the myriad of questions in the comments about our local serial killer.

Who the police believed was my boyfriend—potential boyfriend.

Even though I wasn’t hungry, I forced myself to buy a snack from the vending machine back at the inn. Then I hid out in my room, clutching my phone for any news. My brother called, but I let it go to voicemail. I did not want to deal with that right now. A few minutes later, the telltale sound of an incoming text dinged, and I grabbed the phone like a lifeline.

Call me back. Now.

My brother again. He must have heard the news. Another text came quickly behind.

Mom and Dad know.

Shit in a stocking. This wasn’t going to be good. I hit the call button, and he picked up immediately.

“Hey, sis. What’s new? Hey, were you ever planning on telling me that there’s a SERIAL KILLER in your new small town?!”

I pulled the phone away from my ear until he was done yelling. “I did tell you about Isabella.”

“Yeah, but not that she may have been the third victim!”

“We weren’t sure if the previous two were murdered or not,” I said, even though some of us had been pretty sure.

“And someone else died yesterday and you couldn’t take five seconds to send me a text!”

Okay, he was truly mad. Shawn never got mad. If anything, he was too chill. It was time for one of my rare sister to brother apologies.

I softened my voice. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have sent you a text. But I didn’t want to worry you, and it’s been so busy here. I was at work today with my boss trying to figure out how to handle this on socials.”

He sniffed. “Well, you need to worry about Mom and Dad because they’re about to ask the captain of a cruise ship to turn his boat around.”

I could actually picture that happening, so it wasn’t a joke. “I will send them a message as soon as I’m off the phone. I swear.”

“They want you to leave.”

“I can’t leave,” I said quickly. “I live here now. I work here.”

“Of course you can,” he scoffed. “Can’t you work remotely for a while?”

I didn’t want to tell him that I wouldn’t be working at all for a while. Because that meant I had no excuse. But I didn’t want to leave. Especially not with Ellison in custody. I needed to be here and figure out what the hell was going on.

“Where am I going to go?” I asked him. “I’m not going all the way to New York to stay with you.”

“Don’t you have a friend you could stay with? A non-Christmasville friend?”

The truth was that most of my friends back in Boston were mutual friends with Trent. Or work friends. My real friends from college were scattered all over the country. None in driving distance. And I wasn’t about to drop a few hundred dollars on a plane ticket when I didn’t know how long I’d have to stay away. And if I gave up this room, where would I keep all of my stuff? I didn’t have unlimited resources.

“Shawn, I’m staying here for now,” I said, my voice stern enough so that he knew not to argue. “But I’m safe. I’m behind a deadbolt in my room.”

He groaned. “I suppose I can’t force you.”

“No, you cannot. But I appreciate you worrying, and I promise I’ll be smart.”

“That would be a first,” he said. Even in times like these, Shawn couldn’t ignore an opportunity for an easy burn.

“Hardy har har,” I fake-laughed.

“Well, at least they booked someone. I saw the arrest online. If this dude killed all four, you might be safe.”

Okay, definitely wasn’t going to tell him that I knew the “dude” and had been planning on a date with him last night. My phone vibrated a couple times, signaling new incoming texts. I pulled the phone away from my ear to take a peek. Yes, Mom and Dad were in official freak-out mode.

“I’m going to go. Mom and Dad are texting me. I have to calm them down.”

“Good luck,” he said in a tone that meant I’d really need it. “And, for real, stay safe. I’m serious. If you get yourself killed and leave me alone with Mom and Dad, I will be so pissed.”

I chuckled under my breath. “Your concern is noted.”

My next hour was spent trying to manage a Facetime or phone call with my parents and failing at both. I didn’t know if it was the fact that they were currently in the middle of an ocean somewhere or that they were just terrible at technology. But at least our texts were working. They took a lot of convincing that a) I was okay, b) I was being safe, and c) they shouldn’t hire a helicopter to pick them up from the boat so they could hightail it here. As bad as they were with technology, they were great at worrying. Their imagination could fuel the plot of a hundred horror novels.

With them settled, I was able to search for any news. Nothing official had come out about Ellison in the media, but his name had leaked in online spaces. My stomach churned. I wish I knew what was happening in that police station. I checked the time. He’d only been in custody for a few hours. From watching approximately 40,000 episodes of Dateline and 20/20, I knew that suspects could be held in interrogation rooms for hours and hours on end.

Ellison was probably hungry, tired, and scared. My heart clenched at the thought of him in that tiny room getting hit with question after question. But then I wondered if I was wrong to have sympathy. The police clearly thought he was the killer. They had the text from him, at least. Maybe even more evidence.

Susie’s smug smile rose from the back of my mind. I remember thinking she wanted me to see her open that door. Plus her cryptic mention of how wanting to scare me out of town “didn’t matter now”? Well, now that all made sense. She’d received a text from Ellison wanting to talk. She thought they were getting back together. She thought she’d “won” this game she was playing.

Little did she know what was about to happen.

But I only knew one thing. There was no way Ellison killed her. Yes, my people-radar was quite inaccurate lately. I hadn’t suspected Trent was a cheating scumbag until the evidence literally landed on my desk. But this was different. Ellison was different. There was no way he was a murderer.

Could he have asked her to talk? Absolutely. He even said on Thanksgiving that he was going to have a chat with her about the way she’d been behaving with me. I thought that was unnecessary, but maybe he decided to do it. I only knew that he didn’t push her.

He couldn’t have.

My phone dinged again, and I reached for it. It was Holly.

Holly: How are you holding up?

Me: Honestly? I’m a nervous wreck. Have you heard anything?

Holly: Not yet.

Me: Are you at home?

Holly: No, I’m at the bakery. Nick doesn’t want me going home without him. Plus, an employee quit today. So I’m up to my eyeballs in it.

I was really sick of being alone, all holed up in this room like my own personal jail cell. The bakery wasn’t far. It wasn’t dark out yet, and the roads were full of news cameras. My stomach suddenly realized the only thing I’d fed it all day was a small package of animal crackers. And it was pissed.

Me: Can I come help?

Holly: For real?

Me: I need to stay busy or I’ll go insane. Plus, I’m hungry and you probably have food.

Holly: I will trade you a couple half-stale bagels that are about to be thrown out in exchange for cleaning duty.

It was the best offer I’d had all day.

Me: Deal. I’ll be there in five.

I brought my car keys even though I wasn’t driving, because they were the only weapon I owned. Every woman knew the “largest key between your index and middle fingers” pose. I strode with purpose, key held at the ready, my head on a swivel.

The setting sun streaked orange across the sky. The crime scene was no longer barricaded. The news vans had abandoned Main Street and probably set up shop down the road by the police station. Downtown was decidedly empty. Apparently Susie’s death was one murder too many, even for the morbid sightseers. The town looked strange with silent streets and empty sidewalks. Main Street was illuminated by the same twinkle lights. The storefronts had the same festive window displays. But without the people, the empty street felt creepy, not cheery.

I reached Holly’s Bakery and went to turn the knob. Locked. I peered through the glass and saw a flash of a red apron. I gave a quick knock, and a moment later Holly opened the door.

“Sorry,” she said, out of breath. “I was in the back. Hope you weren’t knocking for long.”

“Not at all.”

Holly relocked the door behind me. I’d never seen the bakery after closing. It felt so subdued without the rush of customers and soft music playing in the background. But it still smelled damn good.

I draped my coat over the back of a white wrought-iron chair. “Okay, put me to work.”

“You were serious about that?”

“How else am I going to earn my half-stale bagel?”

Holly grinned and put a broom in my hand. “Sweep, and I’ll see if I can rustle you up something only a quarter stale.”

I began sweeping the floor, herding the crumbs into a single pile, while Holly went behind the counter. “So, you had someone quit on you?”

She heaved a sigh. “Weekend help. The risk of dying apparently isn’t worth the part-time pay. I understand. Everyone’s on edge now.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I even had to talk my parents out of extreme behavior today.”

Holly raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t ask.” I bent down to grab a scrunched-up napkin and tossed it in the trash.

Holly stared at me from behind the counter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“My overprotective parents?”

“Ellison.”

I shook my head and kept sweeping. “He didn’t do it. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“We’re agreed on that, then,” she said.

After a few more minutes of sweeping and emptying a dustpan, the floor was about as good as I was going to get it. Holly was busy carrying items to and from the back. I saw a bottle of cleaning spray and a rag on one of the tables and figured I could do that next. It felt good to be moving my body and accomplishing things rather than sitting in my room at the inn biting my nails. I was cleaning the final table when a noise at the door made me freeze.

Someone was trying the knob.

The sun had set and twilight made it hard to see more than a shadow on the other side of the small glass pane. I didn’t want to get closer to look. If the door was locked, they’d figure out the bakery wasn’t open and move on. But instead, I heard a rustle of metal and scraping.

Fear tightened my throat. I fought the urge to scream and instead called out, “We’re closed!”

But the person wasn’t deterred. The knob rustled again, louder this time. Then, suddenly, the knob turned, and the door burst open. I raised the spray bottle in my hand as an animalistic howl came out of me.

“Hey! Hey! It’s me!”

Nick stood in the open doorway, raising his hands. A key ring hung from the doorknob. Of course, Nick would have a key to his wife’s bakery.

“What the hell is going on here?” Holly asked, running out from the back.

“Kelsey was about to Windex me to death,” Nick said, pointing to my still aimed bottle.

I dropped it on a table and put my hand to my chest. “You gave me a heart attack. I wasn’t expecting anyone to come in.”

“Is there news?” Holly asked.

I realized now how terrible Nick looked. He needed a shave and a shower. Or at least three cups of coffee.

He dragged a tired hand down the side of his face. “Yeah. I have news.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Holly brought Nick a steaming mug of coffee, and the three of us settled around a table.

“What’s going on?” I asked, impatient to hear the news.

Nick took a long sip, closing his eyes for a moment. This was probably his first break of the day, but I wished I could drag what he knew directly out of his brain.

He placed the mug down on the table. “Kris brought Ellison in because the text on Susie’s phone asking her to meet on the roof was from him.”

“Okay,” I said. So far this wasn’t anything I hadn’t already assumed.

“But!” He held up a finger. “I took a look and knew that wasn’t his phone number.”

Holly inched closer, putting her elbows on the table. “Explain.”

“The text said something like ‘Hey, it’s Ellison.’ And then it asked her to meet. Susie replied that this wasn’t his number, and he said he’d gotten a new one.”

“So, someone else texted her and claimed to be him.” My heart started to race. “Whose number is it?”

“We dug in to find that out as quickly as possible, and unfortunately it’s a TracFone.”

I sank back in my seat. A prepaid phone with no contract. Anyone could buy one anonymously.

Holly’s eyes widened. “But you can still get information! I read about a case where—”

Nick held up a hand. “It’s what I spent all day doing while they were interrogating Ellison. I found out where the phone had been purchased—at a convenience store about ten miles away. Interestingly, one of the few that doesn’t have surveillance cameras. The customer paid with cash. There’s no trail.”

“When did they buy it?” I asked.

“A few days ago, but they only used it that one time. It hasn’t been turned on since.”

“It’s probably at the bottom of the pond by now,” I mumbled. The person had clearly done their homework. Or watched as many crime shows as Holly. “But this is still good. It’s clear that someone lured Susie to the roof by pretending to be Ellison.”

“Or he did it himself but wasn’t dumb enough to send the text from his own phone,” Nick said.

I bristled. “You can’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t,” he clarified. “But just because it was a second phone, that doesn’t eliminate him in the eyes of the law.”

“But so many people know about his history with Susie,” I insisted. “It’s a very small town, and everyone is all up in everyone else’s business. Anyone would know to use Ellison’s name to lure her.”

Holly wrung her hands together. “It doesn’t implicate him, but it doesn’t clear him. What are Kris’s thoughts?”

Nick shook his head. “Kris doesn’t have enough to hold him, but he’s still at the top of the suspect list.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because he’s the boyfriend,” Holly said. “Or ex-boyfriend. And that gives him motive.”

Not to kill all four people, I thought.

“Kris wants this settled quickly.” Nick looked at me. “And your boss is putting on the pressure.”

I stifled a groan. “Carol wants to save the town’s businesses. I understand that. But getting this right is more important than rushing to judgment and getting it wrong.”

The sheriff should know that. I briefly wondered if he had another reason to be hurrying things. Meanwhile the real killer was still out there. But I had to focus on the good news. Ellison was innocent. The police may not have been convinced, but I was. My eyes watered as relief flooded through me. Ellison was not a serial killer. He didn’t send the text. He didn’t lure her—for murdery or non-murdery reasons.

“Are they going to release him?” Holly asked.

Nick cradled the mug in his hands and drained the last of the coffee. “Yeah, but not quite yet. You know how it is.”

I chewed on my thumbnail. “In the meantime, there’s still a killer out there somewhere. Are there any plans for a curfew or lockdown?”

Nick shook his head. “Not yet, but Kris is trying to convince Carol.”

“Nature’s lockdown might help us out,” Holly mused.

“The storm?” Nick said. “I haven’t been paying attention. How many inches are they saying we’re going to get?”

In all of the chaos, I’d forgotten myself. Carol had told me about a big storm coming tomorrow.

Holly stood, taking off her apron. She grabbed his empty mug and brought it over to the counter. “The initial models were wrong, and now we’re looking at two feet. It’s a big one.”

Nick nodded thoughtfully. “That might help keep everyone home, at least, for a day or two.” He rubbed his eyes. “I need to get home and grab a few hours of sleep. Kelsey, can we drop you off at the inn?”

“Yes, please.” The sun had completely set, and I had no intentions of walking around town after dark.

Holly grabbed her coat and purse. Then she handed me a small cardboard food container. “Ham and cheese on a not-stale croissant and a 10 percent stale cupcake for dessert.”

My stomach growled in response. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

Nick gave his wife a kiss on the top of her head. Then he herded us out the front door toward the waiting cruiser. Holly double-checked the locks behind her and looked both ways up and down the sidewalk. The street was chillingly desolate.

I appreciated the door-to-door service. But I hoped that was the first and last time I had to ride in the back of a squad car. It made me feel strangely guilty. I had the urge to confess to the candy bar I stole from a store in second grade on a dare.

The lobby of the inn was eerily empty, as if it were the middle of the night. The tree and decorations were lit, but the logs in the fireplace had smoldered out. It was too early for Grace’s night hours sign, but I supposed no one had to man the front desk if there were no patrons.

I took the turn to head toward the staircase and spotted someone out of the corner of my eye. Grace sat in the dining area, alone, huddled over a glass of red wine. The soft glow of Christmas lights bathed her in warm gold, but even that couldn’t hide the slump of her shoulders. I was tempted to head straight up to my room—small talk wasn’t exactly on my wish list, and there was a decent chance she didn’t want company either.

Still, just in case she needed someone to talk to, I walked over.

The room smelled faintly of cinnamon and pine. A vintage ceramic Santa perched awkwardly on the corner buffet, watching over the empty space like a forgotten guardian.

“Hey,” I said as I approached the table. “Try to keep the pity party down, will you?”

Admittedly, not my best joke. But I tried.

She gave me a weak smile. “I think everyone in town is having this kind of night.”

I gazed around the room, ears perked for any other sign of life. The room was unusually still. A half-decorated gingerbread house sat abandoned on a side table. “It’s so quiet.”

“Half of the guests have checked out.” She took a long sip of wine. “Another chunk will be leaving soon to beat the storm.”

Her voice had an edge I wasn’t used to. Her eyes held a vacant gaze. It was the look of someone who’d lost all hope.

I pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. “They’re going to catch this person. And everything’s going to go back to normal.”

She looked up at me with wet eyes. “What if normal wasn’t all that great either?”

That didn’t sound like her. “What do you mean?”

She pushed the glass away, and it became clear that it wasn’t her first. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just tired. And not the kind that a good night’s sleep can fix. I’m soul tired.”

I leaned forward, catching her eyes with my own. “Grace, you work so hard. I get tired just watching you sometimes. I wish you would be a bit easier on yourself. You’ve been through so much. The loss of a spouse, single-parenting, and now managing a business through a crisis. It’s a lot.”

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?” Her voice sounded small and sad.

“Of course.”

She pulled the wineglass back toward her and ran her finger along the rim. “Tonight, for the first time, I’ve been thinking that I wish we’d sold the inn after my husband died. I could have gotten some nine-to-five job somewhere. Had an easier time of it. But then I feel guilty. This place was my husband’s pride and joy. He inherited it from his parents. He insisted it to go Rudy one day. And I was just going to quit and sell it off to strangers? My son’s inheritance? His future?” She shook her head, angry at herself.

I shifted in my seat. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“Okay,” she said, looking at me with a deep vulnerability.

“I think those are completely normal thoughts. And I think, if your husband had any way of communicating to you, he’d want you to know that his top priority was your health and your happiness. Not a building made of wood and nails.”

She took that in, thinking it over and blinking back tears. Then she reached out and squeezed my hand. “I’m going to miss you when you find your own place.”

I shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll stop by to steal coffee all the time.”

She threw her head back in laughter, wiping an errant tear from the corner of her eye. “Thank you, Kelsey.”

“For what?”

“For cheering me up,” she said simply. “You could have just gone up to your room. But you care.”

Back in my room, I devoured the food from Holly and watched the local news. They didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. Being friends with a town cop probably gave me an advantage there. My parents and brother texted me, checking in, and I wrote back quickly. It looked like I’d have to manage their anxiety in addition to my own until the killer was caught.

I wondered if Ellison had been released yet. I thought about texting him, but figured I’d wait. He may not want to talk quite yet. He would be exhausted.

I cleaned up dinner crumbs from my little table and changed into pajamas. Since I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything, I might as well settle into bed and see if I could find a movie to lose myself in. I had just pulled the comforter up to my chin and grabbed the remote when someone knocked on my door.

Ellison!

I whipped the covers off and rocketed out of bed. He was here! They’d released him, and he’d come here. My heart swelled. I couldn’t wait to pull him into my arms and comfort him.

But when I checked the peephole, the smile dropped off my face. I hesitated, then flipped the deadbolt and unlocked the door. I opened it, only a foot, and poked my head out.

Aaron stood, his face flushed. He wore a casual sweater and jeans, off brand for him. “Can I come in?”

“Why?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Because I’m ready.”

Ominous, but okay. I blinked quickly. “Ready for what?”

His eyes bored into mine. “To tell you the truth.”

Chapter Thirty

I opened the door wide and gestured for Aaron to come in. My pajamas should have been a clue that I was ready for bed and not for visitors. But I was also curious about this “truth” he had to share. Though I wasn’t completely comfortable with the idea of letting him in, I knew from living here that the walls were thin. Even if the hotel was only at 50 percent capacity, someone would hear me scream.

If it came to that.

“Have a seat,” I said, pointing to my little table for two. I picked up a rogue cupcake crumb and flicked it in the trash, then sat down. “I’m guessing this has to do with what you mentioned in the parking lot. That you’d been ‘doing something for me.’ ”

He pulled out the chair and sat opposite me. “It does.”

I opened my hands wide. “Well, what is it?”

He twisted his face, as if he were about to deliver bad news. “I had our family private investigator—”

“Wait,” I cut in. “You have a family private investigator?”

He rolled his eyes, apparently exasperated with the interruption. “Yes. We do real estate deals. Sometimes a lawyer isn’t enough. May I continue?”

I nodded. “Sorry.”

“I had our family private investigator run a background check on Ellison Shaw—”

My hand shot up, interrupting him again. I should have known this had something to do with Ellison and trying to convince me that I’d “chosen the wrong guy.” I had sympathized with Aaron at first. Getting rejected hurts, no matter who you are. But we hadn’t even been dating. He was taking this toxic masculine competitive thing too far. So far, in fact, that it made me wonder. If this was how he behaved when he didn’t “win” a competition for a woman, what would he do if he didn’t get the land he’d come here for? My temper flared, faster than I expected.

“I’d like you to leave,” I said firmly.

Aaron’s eyes bulged. “What?”

I stabbed my index finger onto the table. “Doing a background check on Ellison is uncalled for and gross. A huge breach of confidence. I’m just getting to know him myself. I don’t need to know that he missed a credit card payment back in college.”

Aaron shook his head, like I wasn’t understanding. “He has a record, Kelsey.”

“For what,” I scoffed. “Stealing a candy bar?”

“For assault and battery.”

I flinched. “Like … a drunken bar fight?”

“No. He beat his neighbor to within an inch of his life. He was convicted, Kelsey.”

I reared back as if I’d been slapped. My first instinct was to accuse Aaron of lying. But he was too smart to lie about this. He knew I could just ask Ellison or research it myself.

“That’s not all,” Aaron continued. “His last bookstore? It burned down. The fire was suspicious. His insurance company denied his claim. Once they figured out it was arson.”

My mind couldn’t absorb the information. Beating a man nearly to death? Burning a bookstore? This wasn’t the Ellison I knew. Unless I didn’t know him at all.

“Then he moved here, disgraced, to start all over,” Aaron said smugly. “And now Christmasville is going to hell. Coincidence?”

I finally found my tongue. “So, what are you saying? That he’s a serial killer? Did your little background check tell you that too?”

He grimaced at the spite in my words. “I’m not taking any joy in telling you this, Kelsey. I’m concerned about you. Regardless of the fact that I wanted to pursue a relationship with you, I care about you as a person. A friend. Have you been hurt so badly that you can’t believe that?”

I could believe that. I cared about a lot of people I was never going to sleep with. But I no longer trusted Aaron. He’d behaved like a toddler losing at Candyland when I’d turned him down.

I measured my words carefully. “Even if this is true, even if I end things with Ellison, that doesn’t mean we’re going to …”

“Kelsey,” he said calmly. “I’m leaving.”

I sucked in a breath. “What?”

“I’m leaving in the morning.”

“The deal fell through?” I said, perplexed.

“No, it’s actually more likely to happen now. But with everything going on, my family felt that I could do the rest of the negotiating remotely. To stay safe. Besides they’re not sure Christmasville is a smart investment any longer.”

He pushed himself up from his seat and gazed down at me. “So, even though I may never see you again, I’m taking the time to let you know what I’ve found out. Because I want you to stay safe. Believe me or not. That’s your prerogative. I’ve tried my best.”

I watched, mouth half hanging open, as he walked out of the door and my life. His footsteps echoed down the quiet hall until I couldn’t hear them anymore. I went to the door and locked the deadbolt, my hands trembling. My mind spun with two realities—what I thought I’d known and what I now knew.

Ellison’s soft kiss flashed in my mind. His hands had held me so gently. Were they really the same hands that had beaten a man? That had almost taken a life? My chest felt tight as I faced the realization that I hadn’t known him at all. His mysterious past was a shameful, violent one. Was he doomed to repeat it? Had he already?

Sunday morning, I turned on the television, and every local channel was focused on the incoming storm. Meteorologists’ assertions of low-pressure systems and cold fronts served as a backdrop while I showered and dressed. I glanced out the window at the emptiness below. No sign of the nor’easter yet, other than a lone salt truck—a wreath tied to the grille and a giant Santa hat strapped to the roof—making its way down the side street.

My phone chirped. I grabbed it off the nightstand and read the incoming text. It was from Ellison!

I’ve been released. I really need to talk to you. Can I come by?

Competing emotions battled in my gut. I was relieved and glad that they’d finally released him. But I wasn’t ready to talk to him. My head was still spinning with everything Aaron had said last night. I needed to absorb and process it before I confronted Ellison with what I knew. I decided to ignore the text for now. Let him think I was sleeping in.

But before I put my phone down, another notification came through. This time, from my real estate app. I clicked on the new rental that just became available. As it loaded on my phone’s screen, my heart raced. It was perfect. A one-bedroom right on Main Street. The rent was in line with what I was able to pay. If this apartment had popped up a few days ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity. But now I wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

My new life in Christmasville had started so well, but now it was a living nightmare. The town was spiraling. I could lose my job at any moment. The man I’d begun falling for wasn’t who I thought he was. Oh, and a killer was hiding in plain sight picking off victims, and I had to live in fear until they were caught.

This was not the Christmas romance movie that I ordered.

What could I do? Head back to Boston and see if I could get back my old job? Start fresh again somewhere else with a short stay in Christmas-Murder-Ville on my résumé? I felt unmoored. Lost.

My phone’s screen started to dim, and I pressed my thumb to wake it up. I had to see the apartment, even with all of my uncertainty. Rentals above the shops on Main Street didn’t become available often, I had learned. I searched the listing for the number and dialed.

A woman answered after several rings. “Evergreen Realty.”

“Hi, I’m calling about the available apartment on Main Street?”

“That was fast,” she mumbled, a bit of surprise in her voice.

I sat on the end of my bed. “I hope this is a good time to call. I just know that Main Street rentals get snapped up quickly.”

“Usually, they do. But it seems like there may be a lot more available space in town soon,” she said ominously.

I did not want to start talking serial killer with this stranger, so I kept us on topic. “So, it’s available?”

“Yes. The current resident spends winters in Florida but has recently decided not to return to town, so she’s ending her lease.”

I didn’t have to wonder why. “Could I come by and take a look?”

“Only if you can meet me there right now. I’m Donna, the real estate agent handling the listing. And I’d like to get back to my house before the storm starts.” She paused. “And before it gets dark.”

Understandable. In fact, I’d been thinking about asking Holly to come with me. Both for her opinion on the place and for safety in numbers.

“I can do that,” I said.

“Great. The entrance is next to Candy Cane Dreams. Second floor, apartment 2B.”

“S-sure,” I stuttered. I hadn’t realized from the address in the listing that it was the apartment beside Ellison’s. The one he’d jokingly wished I could move into and become his neighbor. Only a few hours ago, that would have seemed like a dream.

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Chapter Thirty-One

I stood outside the inn, waiting and watching. Big fat flakes had started to fall. But they didn’t look as ominous as the meteorologists were making out. They spiraled down slowly from the gray sky, barely accumulating on the ground.

A car I recognized drove past and parked in the lot. My bodyguard was here. She got out, wearing winter boots and dark jeans.

“Thank you for doing this!” I called, waving.

Holly zipped her black puffer jacket and trudged up to me. “It’s like the buddy system we used on field trips in school. Nothing can happen when there are two of us!”

I chuckled. “I owe you one. The next time you need a safety buddy, hit me up.”

Her eyes narrowed into slits. “Unless I’m the killer and you just fell right into my trap.”

I snorted. “That would be just my luck.”

“I don’t think either of us needs to worry about the other.” She pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. “Worldwide, 96 percent of murderers are men. The number is a little lower in the U.S., but the point stands.”

I shook my head. “Okay, Inspector, let’s go.”

We started the short walk to the apartment. A few people were out and about, maybe grabbing some last-minute provisions before hunkering down for the storm. But the vibe was different. No one was waving and saying hi. Christmasville and its residents had lived in a pristine snow globe, surrounded by beauty and protected in their bubble. But now someone had turned that globe upside down and shaken it. People looked at each other with big-city suspicion. Friendly smiles were replaced with no eye contact.

The killer could be here somewhere. Among us. They could be in any of the shops or the rentals above. They could be watching us right now.

“It’s still hard for me to believe that this is really happening here,” I said sadly.

Holly gave me a dubious look. “Did you think the Christmas magic made us impervious to evil?”

“No,” I sighed. “But it’s just such a happy place. Or was.”

“A serial killer can be anywhere,” she said matter-of-factly. “Happy or not. Jeffrey Dahmer worked in a chocolate factory.”

I grimaced. “Why do you know these things?”

She stopped beside Candy Cane Dreams. “We’re here, Not-So-New-Girl.”

“Not-So-New-Girl?” I laughed.

“Yeah, I’ve got to workshop that one. I can do better.”

I gave her arm a playful slap. “Whatever, murderino.” I couldn’t help the smile growing on my face. She was making fun of me. Like she did with Ellison. That meant we were good friends.

But my smile fell when I reached the address. The last time I’d looked at this door was when Susie had opened it, smiling her creepy smile at me. She’d touched this handle. She’d climbed this staircase. Up to the roof. To her death.

“You okay, Kels?” Holly’s brow furrowed with concern.

I shook it off. “Yeah, I’m good.”

She pulled open the heavy front door, and I followed her up the stairs. On the second floor, two doors stood opposite each other in the empty hall.

Holly pointed at 2A. “You know Ellison lives there, right?”

I couldn’t push any words out of my suddenly tight throat. I gave a little nod.

Holly, catching on right away that something was up, pointed at my face. “We’re going to talk about that.”

But right now was not the time because the door to 2B opened, and a woman stepped out. She wore black jeans and an ugly Christmas sweater that I was pretty sure was homemade and not ironic. Her blonde hair was clipped short, and thick black glasses were currently sliding down her nose.

“Kelsey Hendricks?” she asked.

I stepped forward. “Yes. And this is my friend Holly.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I recognize you. Love your bakery!”

“Thanks!” Holly said.

“Well, I’m Donna. The listing agent.”

She waved us in. The apartment had an open concept with a living room, small dining area, and kitchen all in one space.

“The place does not come furnished,” Donna warned. “As I told you over the phone, the resident is ending her lease early to stay in Florida full-time. The weather, you know.”

I was pretty sure all the murdering had something to do with it too. I tried not to think about how the last killing happened right above my head on the roof of this very building.

“Family members will be coming within a week to pack up her belongings,” Donna continued. “The new tenant can move in about a week after that. I just need time to get it deep cleaned and freshly painted.”

I took a moment to scan the space, puzzling out where and how the furniture I’d been keeping in a storage unit would fit. This living room had enough space for two sofas if I wanted. My place in Boston could only hold one. The kitchen had brown cabinets and older countertops, but new appliances. I poked my head into the bathroom. Nothing fancy, but it all looked clean.

“Laundry?” I asked.

“In the basement. We pay for water and sewer. You pay heat and electric. We require first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit. And I’ll need to see a pay stub.”

“That’s no problem,” I said, making my way to the living room window. It looked down on Main Street. At night, with the lights, I imagined it was beautiful.

“Same view from the window in the bedroom,” Donna pointed out. “You can head in there and chat if you like.”

I appreciated the bit of privacy. Holly followed me in. The bedroom was larger than I expected. Plenty of space to include a little home office corner with a desk.

“So, what do you think?” Holly asked.

I cast my eyes over the room. “To be honest, it’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for.”

“Then why don’t you sound excited?”

I leaned against a dresser. “I just … don’t know what I want anymore. This was supposed to be my fresh start. And things were going so well. I love my job. I met Ellison.”

“And me,” Holly added in.

I smiled. “And you. And I really felt like this could be home.”

“But then everything went to hell,” she said.

I blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

“But I’m still here. And after they catch this psycho, the tourists will come back. Your job will be fun again. And … Ellison’s still here.”

I went to the window. The lazy snowflakes had built into a thickly falling snow.

“We should go,” I said. “The weather is going to get bad soon, and you don’t want to drive home on slippery roads.”

She gave the window a cursory look. “I’ve driven in worse conditions. Tell me what’s going on.”

I wanted to talk about it. I needed to talk about it. But it wasn’t my place to share Ellison’s secret with others.

“Do you know about … where Ellison lived before?” I asked cautiously.

Holly hesitated. “You mean that podunk town in western Massachusetts …”

She stared at me, and I stared back. Something unspoken passed between us.

“You do know,” I said.

“I’m not supposed to.”

“But he confided in Nick, and then Nick told you,” I guessed.

She shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

I snorted. “I’ll remember that if I ever think about telling you a secret.”

“I never tell anyone else!” she said defensively. “Just think of Nick and I as a package deal. You have a dilemma and need advice? Two for one.”

At least she was honest about it.

So, Holly and Nick knew. But they apparently loved and trusted Ellison anyway? I didn’t quite understand.

“Is Nick cool with …” I took a deep breath. “Ellison’s past?”

She leaned against a side table. “He looked into it himself and found information that matched what Ellison told him. So, yeah, he’s cool. He’d never let a man into our home that he didn’t trust.” She paused. “But I can sense that you’re wary.”

“Yeah, I am.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m still in shock that he told you already. He hasn’t even told me.”

“He probably just assumes that Nick did.”

“Yeah, that’s probably true.”

“And he didn’t tell me,” I clarified.

“Then how do you know?”

I paused. “Aaron told me.”

Her head rocked back in surprise. “How did Suit Man know?”

I bit my lip, not wanting to say the words that would get her temper up. “He ran a background check on him.”

Holly’s hands clenched into fists. “That man has triggered my last nerve. Where is he? I’m going to—”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?” Holly repeated. “What about the land deal?”

“That part is still up in the air, but he left town to stay safe.”

“But not without dropping this bomb on you first. Nice.”

I pursed my lips. “He thought I deserved to know.” I had touched Ellison, kissed him. We’d been alone in my hotel room. I’d drunkenly tried to get him into my bed.

“I get that,” Holly said. “But, just, talk to Ellison. Listen to his side.”

Side? I thought. How many sides could there be to arson and assault?

“Promise me,” she said. “You can’t make up your mind without all the information.”

“I’ll talk to him,” I promised.

Donna appeared in the doorway, wringing her hands. “It’s starting to look bad out there. I need to head on home. So, what do you think? The whole building is owned by Evergreen Realty. We respond quickly when there are any repair issues. Other tenants are very happy with us.”

I took a deep breath. “I love the location. And it’s nice that there isn’t a creepy landlord.”

“Creepy landlord?” Holly repeated, eyebrows raised.

“I looked at a unit on the outskirts of town,” I explained. “And the landlord gave me the creeps. Some guy named Billy.”

“Oh,” Donna said knowingly. “Stay far away from him. He owns a couple units and only rents them to women, then he harasses them until they break their leases early to get away. Everyone in real estate in the area knows about him.”

Holly pulled out her phone, her interests piqued. “What’s his full name?”

“Billy Ramsey,” Donna supplied.

“He was at the parade,” I said. “He spoke to me.”

Holly and I shared an unspoken look. He was a known creeper of women and was at scene of the crime. She sent a quick text on her phone, and I knew she was sharing the information with Nick.

“About the apartment,” Donna nudged. “I really need to get home.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I need a little time.”.

She nodded, understanding. “You have my number.”

We all left the apartment, and Donna descended the stairs. But Holly and I hung back.

“Did you text Nick about Billy?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s worth looking into.”

“Totally. Bad vibes all around.”

Footfalls on the staircase were headed this way. Had Donna forgotten something? Was she coming back?

But it was Ellison, his keys in his hand. He stopped short and looked at us in surprise.

“A promise is a promise,” Holly whispered in my ear. “Talk to him.” Then, to Ellison, she said, “They let you out, huh? Too bad.”

“Hello to you too, Holly,” he said with a genuine smile. His eyes moved to mine. “I’m just coming from the inn. I was trying to find you.”

“She was with me,” Holly announced. “Checking out the real estate. Old Mrs. Wickstrom decided to full-time it in Florida.”

Ellison’s eyes darted between Holly’s and mine. No doubt he was wondering why I hadn’t returned his text. Why I hadn’t told him I was touring the apartment across the hall from his own.

“Can we talk?” he asked me.

Holly gave me a little nudge with her elbow. “I have to get home before the roads get really bad. But Ellison will walk you back to the inn after. Right, dork?”

“Of course,” he said quickly.

I couldn’t put off this talk any longer. Holly was right. As uncomfortable as this conversation would be, I had to get all the facts.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s talk.”

Holly waved goodbye as she descended the stairs. Ellison unlocked the door to his apartment, and I stepped into the unknown.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Ellison’s apartment had the same layout as 2B. It smelled like hazelnut coffee and old books. Built-ins lined two of the living room walls, each shelf full of row after row of books. Tiny white fairy lights were tucked along the top edge of the shelves, casting a soft golden glow over the spines. A sprig of pine and red berries peeked from a simple ceramic vase, and a small, tasteful wreath hung above a worn leather chair that had clearly seen countless reading hours.

“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s like your own library.”

He led me to a navy sofa, where a tartan throw blanket with muted reds and greens was draped over the back. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No thanks,” I said, settling onto the cushions.

He sat beside me, keeping a polite distance between us. I was glad he hadn’t greeted me with a kiss because I would have stiffened and caused an awkward moment. He seemed to sense my discomfort and was giving me the space he knew I needed.

“Something’s bothering you,” he said.

My hands were on my knees, and I pulled them into my lap. “It is.”

The wind let out a low howl outside, the storm building. Ellison studied me for a moment.

“I was released because there’s no evidence,” he said, his voice pained. “You know I didn’t—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “Nick told me about the TracFone. And even before that I knew—I mean, I thought I knew—that you weren’t capable of that.”

“Thought you knew,” he repeated slowly.

Enough stalling. The words were rising up my throat. I had to get them out.

“You were convicted of assault,” I stated, watching his face for a reaction. “In your old town.”

His eyes widened with surprise, but then he seemed somewhat reassured. “That’s what’s bothering you.”

I nodded.

His face creased in confusion. “Did Nick say something?”

“No. Aaron. He apparently ran a background check on you.”

“What a jerk,” he muttered, his cheeks turning red. “It wasn’t his place to tell you.”

I straightened my shoulders. “You’re right. It was yours. And you chose not to.”

“I was going to tell you,” he insisted. “Friday night, after the concert. I had it all planned. I was nervous, but I knew the time had come. But then Susie …” His voice faded away.

I didn’t know whether to believe him or not. And I didn’t even know if it mattered. What he’d done … did I want to be with a man who could do that?

He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. “Can I please tell you the truth now?” he pleaded. “The whole truth. And after that, if you never want to see me again, I will understand. I will let you go. Because it’s your choice. But you should have all the information before you decide.”

“Okay,” I said, and braced myself for his words. For the details I wasn’t sure that I wanted to hear.

He stilled for a long, quiet moment, then spoke softly. “I lived in a small town. Even smaller than this, if you can imagine.”

I gave him a weak smile.

“My neighbor liked to treat his girlfriend like a punching bag. He had a drinking problem, and they did a lot of just plain screaming at each other too. But some nights …” His eyes flicked away from mine as memories surfaced. “I went over there a lot. Most times just knocking on the door would put a stop to it. I called the police once or twice, but there was never any real involvement. But one night the fight spilled out into the front yard.”

His voice had a hollow ring to it, and I could almost see the pain this was bringing back. “He was out of control. I knew that if I didn’t put a stop to it, he’d kill her this time.” He blinked back the wetness in his eyes.

“So you put a stop to it,” I prodded.

“I redirected his attention to me. Taunted him. Got him to fight me instead. It was rough. Bloody. He’s a big dude. He had me down, his hands around my throat. But my adrenaline spiked, and I was able to throw him off. When the police came, I was the one on top. The one throwing the punches.”

My brow furrowed. He was trying to save a woman’s life. The bastard deserved it. I didn’t understand how things ended up the way they did.

“Why were you convicted?” I asked. “Why wasn’t it self-defense?”

“He ended up in the hospital with severe injuries, and it looked to the police like I tried to kill my neighbor.”

“But the girlfriend—”

“She refused to press charges.” He kept his voice even. “She stuck by him, again. She backed up his story that I came at him unprovoked. So my defense, that I was trying to save her, was hard to prove.”

The knot that had been in my chest all day loosened. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

He dragged his hands down his face. “And to make matters worse, the day after the fight, my bookstore burned to the ground. It was arson, so I couldn’t collect the insurance.”

“Who burned it?”

“His buddies, I’m sure. To pay me back for what I did to him.”

“Couldn’t the police help you at all?”

“He was a police officer.”

I rocked back. “Oh.”

“It was a corrupt little town. Most of the force was related. A whole bunch of cousins who covered up for each other. Thankfully, my lawyer was able to get me probation since it was my first offense. But I’m still stuck with a record. And my business was gone. So I left town. I wanted to try somewhere new. Find somewhere …”

“Good,” I filled in.

“Yeah, somewhere good.”

So much made sense now. Why someone like Ellison would even be in a fight like that. Why he never wanted to talk about his past. He’d lost everything—his store, his livelihood, his reputation. All because of a woman beater.

“Have you kept track of the guy?” I asked.

“Not me, personally, but Nick looked into him once. He made a full recovery. He ended up leaving the girlfriend for someone new and then beat the new girlfriend to within an inch of her life. She did press charges, and it happened in another town, so the charges stuck. He’s locked away now.”

“What a prize,” I said, shaking my head. But at least now I knew. Ellison was the person I thought he was. My thoughts prickled with anger at Aaron for how he’d portrayed the story. Had he known the truth? Or had his private investigator only given him the bare minimum of facts?

“I wish you’d told me this earlier,” I said.

He held his hands up. “When is a good time to tell someone you have an arrest record for assault and battery? And that you were suspected of arson? At first, I didn’t even know if we were headed in a romantic direction. I didn’t know where your head was at. I didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to make assumptions. Then, when I was sure and made a plan to tell you, everything went to hell.”

“I get it,” I said, reaching out for his hand. “And I’m sure it’s painful to talk about too. But I’m glad we did. I’m glad I know the truth. And it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

He breathed out an audible sigh of relief. “And how do you feel about me?”

I shrugged. “Eh, you’re all right.”

A hearty laugh burst out of him. He scooted closer and pulled me into his arms. He whispered into my hair, “Thank you for understanding.”

My phone chirped with a text.

“Hold on a sec,” I said, pulling back from Ellison. “This is Holly.”

Billy’s a creeper, but not a killer.

Frowning, I typed back. How do you know?

He was in police custody the entire night Isabella was murdered. He’d been making a scene at a bar and got tossed in the drunk tank for the night.

Well, there went that theory. I sighed.

“What’s up?” Ellison asked.

“Holly and I were playing armchair detective and apparently now we’re back at square one.”

A loud gust of wind practically shook the building. My eyes went to the window. The snow seemed to be blowing sideways now, even building up in the corners of the windowsill.

“I should get you back,” he said.

“You don’t need to walk me. It’s really nasty out there.”

He rose to his feet and put his hand out. “Try and stop me.”

Smiling, I took his hand and let him pull me up.

Outside, the light was already fading, the gray of day turning to the dark of night. A compact car struggled down the street, its back tires spinning but not gaining traction. Clearly not a local without four-wheel drive.

I turned to Ellison, a little smirk on my face. “Tourists.”

He chuckled. “Look who thinks she qualifies as a local already.”

“Hey, I may be signing a lease soon,” I teased.

His face brightened. “Are you really going to do it?”

“I’m taking a day or two to think about it. But, yeah, I really liked the place. The price is right. The location can’t be beat. The neighbors though …”

He laughed again, this low sexy laugh that made me want to melt right onto the sidewalk. Then he grabbed my gloved hand in his, and we settled into an easy silence as our boots crunched the snow. Downtown was usually filled with sound—music, chatter, cars. Now there was only the silence of snow falling and the distant roar of plows. And despite everything that had been going on, I felt a moment of peace.

The moment was short-lived as we left the bright twinkle-lights of Main Street and turned onto the side street that led to the inn. It was less lit, and dark shadows filled every doorway. My eyes scanned the street in both directions. As my anxiety spiked, my pulse ratcheted up.

Ellison must have noticed me tense. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right?”

“I know,” I said with a little smile.

His eyes darkened. “They’d have to go through me to get to you, and I wouldn’t give them an easy time of it.”

I squeezed his hand. “Thanks.” But that didn’t make me feel that much better. I didn’t want anything to happen to Ellison either. Protecting me or not. That was the problem with caring about someone else—your worries doubled.

But now it was Ellison’s turn to tense. He stopped and edged himself slightly in front of me.

“What?” I whispered.

His voice was low and measured. “There’s someone standing in the shadows beside the front door of the inn.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Hey!” Ellison called out as we approached the inn.

The figure jumped, startled, and stepped into the light. “Ellison. Kelsey. You scared the crap out of me. I nearly dropped the mail all over the place.”

My heart settled as I recognized Rudy.

“Sorry, bud,” Ellison said. “How’s it going?”

Rudy brushed a dusting of snow from his hair. “Just another beautiful day in Christmasville.”

The wind whipped my hair into my face, and I pulled it back. Rudy had a bundle of mail under his arm. I spied a large catalog from a California college.

“Hey, that’s not UMaine,” I said, pointing.

Rudy’s face flashed red, and he shuffled the catalog to the bottom of the pile. “It’s my junior year, so I’m getting mail from everywhere. I bet a school in Alaska will be next.”

I gestured at the falling snow. “Well, you’d feel right at home there.”

He let out an awkward laugh. Maybe it was random mail. Or maybe it was a marketing list he’d gotten on because he’d expressed interest. If her son went all the way to California for school, Grace would probably snap. But I wouldn’t tell her. It was his life to live.

“We’re all stocked up on firewood, and Mom bought extra food,” he said. “So feel free to stop by the lobby at any time.”

“You take good care of your guests,” Ellison said.

“We try!” Rudy said, but then his expression changed. “To be honest, though, there are only a few guests left.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. We all knew it wasn’t just the storm that had sent the tourists away. And I didn’t want to fill him with false hope that they would return.

“You should head back,” I said to Ellison. “Before we all get buried alive out here. Text me and let me know you got there all right?”

“I will,” he promised.

But as I followed Rudy into the inn, I glanced over my shoulder and Ellison was still standing there. Not leaving until he saw that I was safely inside.

After Ellison texted that he’d gotten home okay, I checked in with my family and assured them that I remained among the living. Then I microwaved a sad-looking frozen dinner and ate in the silence of my room. So much had happened over the past few days. My brain had reached peak exhaustion, but my body was wide awake. It was too soon for sleep. But between the storm and the psycho killer, it wasn’t safe to go out. I checked my phone, but it was down to 1 percent battery, so I didn’t waste time on social media. I plugged it in for the night and reached for the TV remote instead.

The news was all about the storm. Meteorologists bundled up and stood outside as if we needed live proof that, yes, it was snowing hard. I flipped channels for a while, skipping around but not finding anything that held my interest. Normally I’d read a mystery novel, but I wasn’t in the mood. It felt different when you were living in one.

Suddenly, the television shut off.

I sat up in bed and twisted the switch on the nightstand lamp. Nothing. The power was out. Sometimes these things resolved themselves in minutes, so I laid back in bed and waited. I wished I hadn’t let my phone battery run down, but then again I hadn’t known we’d lose power. When it became clear that the outage would be more than a couple minutes, I pulled off the covers and threw my legs over the side of the bed.

I padded to the window, my thick socks sparking static electricity on the carpet. Outside, the road was dark. Even the streetlamps were out, so it wasn’t just the inn with no power. A full moon cast enough of a glow to dimly illuminate the wintry landscape. The wind raged, piling up snowbanks to a height I didn’t think possible.

A door opened and closed down the hall, probably another guest checking things out. No power meant no heat, and I could feel the chill in the air already. I still wasn’t quite ready to go to sleep. Maybe I could chat with Grace down by the fireplace. I slipped on my winter boots. Not that I was planning to go outside, but because they were the warmest shoes I owned. Then I pulled a cardigan over my pajama top. My flannel pants would have to do. I drew the line at putting on real pants. I slipped my room keycard into my pocket and headed out.

The darkness was all encompassing. I inched down the hall, letting my hand trail along the wall. The staircase was like a black hole, but dim lighting and a low murmur of voices drifted up from downstairs. With trepidation, I carefully took each step. Visions of a killer rushing at me from the darkness, pushing me to my death, taunted me. When I reached the bottom, I let out a huge breath.

Well-placed battery-operated lamps lit the lobby and dining area. The fireplace crackled and snapped. A few guests milled about. A young couple huddled by the coffee station, rubbing their arms for warmth. Another couple sat by the fire while Rudy stirred the logs with a poker.

“Hey, Kelsey.” Grace approached me, a slight edge of panic in her voice. “We have no time estimate from the power company. Jack’s working on the generator but not having any luck so far. Feel free to sit by the fire.”

I had the feeling she’d been giving the same spiel to every person who walked in.

“Do you have flashlights or any other portable lighting for our rooms?” a familiar voice asked.

I turned to find Aaron coming into the lobby. Angelica was not too far behind him, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and an interesting case of bedhead.

“No,” Grace said. “We have battery-operated lanterns, but as you can see, we’re using them for the common areas. You’ll have to use the flashlight app on your phone.”

“Yeah, if we want to completely drain our battery and be unable to recharge,” Angelica muttered.

“Ma’am!” a guest called from the dining area. “I can’t get this coffee maker to work.”

“Because it’s electric,” Grace mumbled under her breath. Then she added loudly, “I’m coming!”

I turned to Aaron. “What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving?”

He folded his arms across his sweater. “The nor’easter dropped a mountain of snow on its way here from New York. Some roads aren’t passable.”

Especially not in a sporty BMW, I thought.

“I’ll have to wait a day or two to get home,” he added.

Angelica stood beside him, inching closer to his body.

“Got stuck here after work?” I asked.

A blush rose on her cheeks as she nodded. Aaron put a hand on her lower back and whispered something in her ear. They’d definitely been together. I actually felt happy. Even though I was mad at Aaron for the private investigator nonsense, I knew Angelica wanted this. I just hoped she didn’t get her heart broken. Aaron was leaving in a couple days.

Grace was reassuring another guest who had entered the room with her same line about Jack working on the generator, when the man by the fire piped up. “Ma’am, is there any food that isn’t breakfast-ish?”

“Yes,” she said, smoothing her reindeer sweater. “I’m going to head into the kitchen now to make sandwiches.”

The man’s wife or girlfriend rolled her eyes. “Don’t go through any trouble just for him.”

“It’s no trouble,” Grace reassured them. “He won’t be the only hungry one, and I have a lot of cold cuts and cheese in the fridge that has to be used up if we don’t get power back tonight.”

“I’ll help,” I said. “I feel like I’ve been sitting all day.”

She gave me a curt nod. “Appreciate it.” Then she snapped her fingers at Rudy. “You too.”

I followed her through the dining area and past the usually closed door into a large kitchen. Even though this area was behind the scenes for guests, it was still decorated just the same. Garland lined the tops of the cabinets, and the open shelving displayed red and green tins and Santa figurines. A family photo hung on the wall—Grace and her husband with a much smaller Rudy held between them. My heart ached for a moment at their loss.

After we washed our hands, Grace lined us up at the long granite counter. “We’ll do this assembly line style,” she ordered. “Rudy, you put on the mayo. Slide the bread down the counter to me, and I’ll handle the meat and cheese. Then, Kelsey, you cut the sandwiches in half. We’ll have plenty for everyone in no time.”

Easy enough. I took my place at the counter and searched the knife block for the appropriate size. I chose the smallest one and slid it out, while something tingled in the back of my brain.

Our little assembly line began working. When each completed sandwich made it to me, I cut it in half and placed it on a large, red platter. But, still, something tugged at the edge of my mind. What was it? What was bothering me? I glanced again at the knife block. The largest knife was in the back. The bread knife was there. I had the paring knife. But where a middle-sized one should be was an empty slot.

“One of your knives is missing,” I said, pointing at the block.

“My chef’s knife,” Grace said. “I use that one often, and it’s part of the set. I have no idea what I did with it. I figured it would turn up somewhere, but it’s just gone.”

That sounded like the kind of knife that was used to kill Isabella. Nick had said it was a medium-sized knife from a common household block.

I glanced at Rudy. Something flared in his eyes. I looked away and casually focused on halving the sandwiches. Before long, we were finished, and Grace carried the tray to the dining area. Guests flocked to it, grabbing sandwiches and bottles of water like this was their last chance for food ever.

I dropped into one of the chairs by the fire and allowed myself a moment of warmth. Hopefully Jack would fix the generator soon. I hadn’t seen him milling about with his toolbox. I should have stayed at Ellison’s place rather than come here. He probably had no power either, but we could have found a way to keep each other warm. Wink, wink. But he hadn’t asked me to stay, probably thinking it was too soon. Not wanting to rush me, especially after the conversation we had just had.

Damn it, why did he have to be such a gentleman?

Rudy and Grace emerged from the kitchen once again, this time with their hands full of mugs of hot chocolate. Most of the guests had grabbed their food and gone back to their rooms. But a few still hung around. Aaron stayed, even though Angelica had slipped back upstairs. He kept his distance from me, which I was glad for. I wasn’t in the mood to chat.

“We lit one of the gas stove burners by hand to heat the milk,” Grace explained. “Figured everyone could use a warmup.” She handed a mug to Aaron.

Rudy’s arm stretched toward me. I took the mug and mumbled a quick thanks. He gave me a smile and a nod and headed back to the kitchen for more.

I took a sip and closed my eyes, letting the warmth slide down my throat into my belly. I thought again about the missing knife in the kitchen. It didn’t have to mean anything. Just because one of Grace’s knives was gone, that didn’t mean it was the one that had killed Isabella. But if it was, what did that mean? Sure, someone who worked at the inn could have taken it, but so could anyone staying at the inn. Just because the kitchen was off-limits, that didn’t mean there was a forcefield keeping tourists out. Still, it would be worth mentioning to Nick.

Especially if it was proven that Mr. Sudbeck’s death wasn’t an accident. To push him in the tub, someone would have to be in the room. So, it had to be someone he’d let into his room himself … or someone with their own keycard. I sat up straighter while my mind whirred.

Between that and now the missing knife, it suddenly seemed more likely that the killer worked at the inn itself. Grace and Angelica weren’t strong enough to drag Isabella and pose her in the tree. I’d thought Jack wasn’t either, but now I knew he’d been faking his injuries. Both he and Rudy were physically capable. Jack had been at the parade when Susie died. And Rudy had said he would be there to watch his friend sing in the choir. Mary was killed on the creek path just steps away from the inn, an easy opportunity for either of them. But why would Jack or Rudy do something that would destroy the town’s tourism and make them lose the inn?

Unless that was the point.

Thoughts swirled and blurred in my head. I set down the empty cocoa mug and sank back in the chair. I knew who the killer was. My heart should have been racing, but I felt a strange calmness slide over me, like a warm blanket. The fire crackled and snapped, almost hypnotically, and my eyes fluttered closed for a moment. I was suddenly exhausted. But I had to get back to the safety of my room, throw the deadbolt, and call Nick. Even if my new theory was wrong, he needed to know about the inn’s missing knife. That changed everything.

I pushed myself up to standing and grabbed the arm of the chair when a whoosh of dizziness passed over me. I must have stood too fast. Aaron watched me curiously. I paused a few seconds, until I was sure I could walk, then I headed toward the stairwell. I had suddenly never felt so tired in my life.

I took the corner. The stairwell loomed ahead, dark and quiet. My hand reached for the banister, but before I could take a step, a heavy hand came down on my shoulder. A cold bolt of fear rocketed through me.

“Don’t say a word,” a voice warned in my ear.

The point of a knife pressed into my back.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I knew that voice. And a part of me knew what was happening, what this meant. But it took a moment longer for my heart to catch up. For it to believe what was happening. For me to accept that I was right.

“I’m heading out for more firewood, Ma!” Rudy yelled.

“Okay!” Grace yelled back.

I opened my mouth, but his hand slid over it. He pulled me backward, away from the stairwell and toward the back door. The knife pressed ever so slightly into my lower back.

“If you make any noise at all, I will stab you right here,” he seethed. “You’re coming out with me to get firewood, and we’re going to have a little talk.”

He pulled me through the door to the outside. My eyes adjusted quickly. We were behind the inn. To the left was the creek path. To the right, a woodshed, and the forest beyond.

The wind roared, and the snow felt like icy pellets hitting my face. I was glad I’d worn my boots, but the rest of me was not dressed to be outside. My body trembled violently, whether due to fear or the cold was a toss-up.

Rudy slid his hand from my mouth and onto my arm, the other hand still holding the knife precariously close. He dragged me through the snow, pulling and yanking painfully at my arm. Each step felt like my foot weighed a hundred pounds. My eyes threatened to close, and my brain worked slowly.

“You drugged my hot chocolate,” I slurred. I expected him to yell at me for making noise, but he just pulled me along. Now that we were further from the building, no one could hear me talking anyway.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. Rudy? Sweet, awkward Rudy? He was just a teenager. A six-foot tall one, but still. I waved at him every day. We’d chatted several times. The knowledge that he was actually a killer chilled my bones.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, keeping my voice small. “I thought we were friends.”

“We just need to talk,” he said, pulling me harder.

I barely recognized the awkward, sarcastic teen boy I’d gotten to know. His face had morphed into a determined scowl, his eyes dark and focused.

The drugs he’d slipped me tugged at my consciousness, but my adrenaline fought back, helping me think. No one knew I was out here. They thought I’d headed upstairs to bed. No one would be looking for me.

“It’s so dark,” I said. “You should use a flashlight or your phone to light the way, so we don’t trip and fall.”

“Or to make it easier for others to see us, right?” he said. “You’re pretty smart, Kelsey. Unfortunately, too smart.”

My heart thudded anxiously. “What does that mean?”

“I saw the way you looked at me when you realized the knife was missing,” he said with a sad undercurrent to his voice. “You figured it out.”

If only I’d run upstairs to call Nick immediately. If only I hadn’t drunk the cocoa while putting the pieces together. Still, even as Rudy dragged me through the snow, I didn’t want to believe it. Even with Holly’s voice echoing in my brain, reminding me that anyone could be a sociopath.

“But why?” I blurted, dragging my feet as my legs turned to jelly. “Why destroy your own family business? Your future?”

“I did it to give myself a future,” he said angrily. “Mom’s finally going to get rid of this place now, and I’ll have my freedom. I can live wherever I want. Do whatever I want. I won’t be tied to this creepy, cultish town, forever stuck on Christmas Day for the rest of my life. I won’t be forced to work and live my entire life in the same one building.”

The whole time, I couldn’t understand why a local would want to destroy their own town. But it was someone who wanted out and only saw one way. So many moments from the past days resurfaced in my mind. The first time I met Rudy, in the hallway outside Mr. Sudbeck’s room that first night, he’d snapped at his mother about legally changing his name to something non-Christmassy. In our first chat, he’d referred to the “outside world” like this town had him trapped. He couldn’t wait to go to college and worried about fitting in with people from “normal places.” He’d complained that his mother had his future all planned out. Even Grace’s complaints about Rudy being an “ornery teenager” seemed different now in this light. I’d thought it was all usual teen drama, but there had been something more simmering beneath.

“You didn’t have to kill people.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth, but I still forced the words out, kept him chatting. “You could have talked to your mother.”

“You think that wasn’t the first thing I tried?” His voice vibrated with rage. “We fight about it all the time. And things only got worse after Dad died. She insisted that I had to carry on the family business. I had no choice. I had to live out his dream. She doesn’t care about mine.”

I thought about his father’s death, the fall off the roof, and the chill in the air settled into my bones. Grace had said Rudy was up there with him.

“D-did you push your dad?” I asked, my voice trembling in the cold.

“It was an accident,” he growled. “I never wanted … I wasn’t thinking … it was a split-second and then … I only wanted him to listen to me. I lost my temper, but I didn’t want him to die.”

He stopped for a moment and looked down at me with wet eyes. “I see that you think I’m some kind of monster now, but I’m not. What happened to Dad was an accident. But after he died, I thought, maybe things could get better. Mom would sell the inn, and we could move and live a normal life. But things got even worse. Mom doubled down on keeping the inn as some sort of tribute to Dad. And we were losing money, so we all had to sacrifice more time running it. But no matter what, Mom wouldn’t even consider selling. So, I thought if I couldn’t change her mind, I’d change the situation. I’d scare the tourists away and force us out of business. I didn’t want to hurt people. I tried other things first.”

“Like vandalism and littering creepy flyers around,” I said, my mind putting things together despite the haze of the drug threatening to pull me under.

“I just wanted to make tourists think twice about the town, have us lose their business.” He gritted his teeth and dragged me forward again. “But they kept coming.”

“Rudy, you killed people,” I said, my voice shaking.

“I chose bad people,” he said dismissively, as if that made it all right. “The old man was rude to my mom and completely inappropriate with Angelica. And I would have stopped there if it got the job done, but the tourists kept coming. My mom dug in even harder to save the inn. Don’t you see I had to keep going? I tried to at least pick people who deserved it.”

That particular theory of mine had apparently been correct, but I hadn’t seen the whole picture. My legs gave out a bit, and Rudy dug his fingers into my arm even harder.

He was in the room to witness my argument with Isabella. Our fight had put her on his radar. She was dead because of me.

“This town is so corrupt,” he said. “Every time, I thought that would be the last one. I wouldn’t have to keep going. But this town kept covering up for itself. Didn’t care if the tourists they claimed to love so much were in danger. I even tried to warn them.”

I pushed out a hoarse whisper, “TheChristmasKiller.”

His eyes looked despondent. “Can’t you see that I tried my best? I didn’t want to have to go this far. But the flyers and vandalism didn’t work. The social media threats didn’t work. I had no choice.”

He’d justified his escalation to murder completely in his head. And I knew that probably now included me. I’d figured it out. I was going to tell. So I had to die.

We were approaching the woodshed, but Rudy made no effort to slow down, dragging me along, knife still pressed to my side. I searched the area for anyone or anything that could help me. I spied a large tree stump that they used as a splitting block, but no ax. Not that I could even lift an ax right now. The drugs were going to pull me under any minute.

I dropped to the ground beside the stump. A few logs were scattered about, but I knew I couldn’t lift one. I felt like I was fighting under water.

“Come on,” Rudy growled. “Not here.”

He pulled my arm so hard, I thought my shoulder would dislocate. I let out a yelp, which angered him even more. He got me back up to my feet, but I was so woozy and floppy, it was like propping up a rag doll.

“Where … we … going …” I gasped between breaths. My breathing was too shallow now. I was conscious enough to know that.

“Not as far as I’d like.” Rudy groaned with the effort of keeping me up. “Just inside the tree line.”

“What are you going to do to me?” Tears flowed from my eyes now. Because I knew I was going to die. I was too weak to run away. I couldn’t fight. I was using every ounce of strength just to stay conscious.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Rudy said. “You were always nice to me. But you figured it out, so I have no choice. I’m going to wait for you to slip into la-la-land and then I’m going to leave you out here, a little hidden. By the time anyone finds you, you’ll be frozen to death. You’ll be asleep, it won’t hurt.”

Oh, great. So he wasn’t violently murdering me. Just, like, a nice gentle murder.

I tried to appeal to his common sense. “They’ll know I didn’t die accidentally. They’ll see the drugs in my system.”

“It’s my mom’s antianxiety prescription that she takes sometimes to help her sleep. A very common prescription. Though some people abuse it. Buy it off the street. Take too much. They’ll think you took some, went outside for some reason, and got confused in the storm.”

He spoke about my pending death with such a detached coldness that I knew … he was irreparably broken. Whether it was his father’s death that caused it or an innate sociopathy, he would not listen to reason. I would not be able to talk him out of this. There was no way to appeal for sympathy.

My head lolled to one side and my breathing slowed. I slumped down, and rather than heft me back up, he let me fall.

“Fine,” he grumbled, putting the knife in the pocket of his coat. “Here will have to do.”

He pushed me up to sitting, my back against a tall tree, its branches bare. The snow was painfully cold against my ungloved hands, especially the one I’d hidden under my leg. The one that contained the shard of wood I’d grabbed when I purposefully fell near the chopping block.

“Well, this is it,” Rudy said, his breath warm on my face. “I gave you a good amount in that hot chocolate. You’ll probably be asleep soon. You won’t even feel any pain.”

My eyes snapped to his. “You will.”

With every ounce of life left in me, I brought my arm up, the sharp shard of wood raised high. I knew I couldn’t stab his body with it. It would break it half, barely do any damage. But if I could get it straight into his eye …

My arm came down with all of the force I could manage. He turned his face at the last second, guarding himself. I missed his eye but caught his cheek, and dragged the wood down as deeply as I could.

“Bitch!” he screamed, falling backward. He scrambled back up to his feet, easily slapping the shard out of my hand. His teeth bared like a vicious animal. “Now you’re gonna get it. No peaceful death for you. No accident. You’ll be TheChristmasKiller’s number five.”

His hands formed claws and aimed for my throat.

“Rudy!” Grace’s voice yelled in the darkness, edged with worry. “Rudy, where are you?”

“Shit,” he spat. Then he looked at me with thinly veiled contempt. “Doesn’t matter. You’re dead either way.”

He shuffled off, trudging through the snow back to the orange glow of the inn. And then I was alone, slumped down, the cold from the snow numbing the back of my head. My breathing slowed. I tried to force myself to move an arm, a foot, a toe. Nothing. I tried to yell and scream, but all that came out was a pathetic cry that no one would hear. My body shivered violently against the cold as I spent my final seconds staring up at the falling snow, drifting down from a darkened sky.

This wasn’t how my life was supposed to turn out. This wasn’t what happened in the cozy Christmas romance movies. A laugh bubbled out of me. What a joke. I came here for a fresh start, but all I was getting was a tragic end.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Oh, no. Oh, no, please.”

I tried to open my eyes. To see if the voice was real. But I couldn’t. Warm fingers probed my neck.

“There’s a pulse!” the voice exclaimed. “She has a pulse!”

I knew that didn’t mean that I would make it. I knew I was teetering on the edge. And I needed the voice to know one thing.

“R-R-Rudy,” I said, teeth chattering. “It was Rudy.”

“Yep, she said it was Rudy,” the voice repeated. I realized now that he must have been on the phone. “Tell them to call an ambulance too. Okay, I’m going to carry her back.”

Strong arms slipped underneath me, and the voice grunted as I was lifted up into the air. My eyelids fluttered, and I caught a glimpse of a face that warmed my heart. Ellison.

“You’ve got to stop carrying me like this,” I croaked.

He cracked a smile, though his eyes were panicked with worry. “This time you did a little more than faint, my dear.”

Then I was pulled back under, into the dark, into the void. I wondered if this was real. Was he truly carrying me? Was I saved? Or was this a hallucination in the grips of death? Either way, real or not, I was glad to be in his arms. I let out a breath and let it take me.

My eyelids fluttered open. I took in my surroundings, not familiar at all. The bed beneath me was large and comfortable, covered in a soft ivory quilt stitched with delicate silver snowflakes. Red drapes were drawn across a window. A small TV stood on top of a white dresser, next to a snow globe. This wasn’t my room at the inn.

I looked to the left, my head moving slowly. Holly sat in an armchair, her legs curled up underneath her as her eyes focused on the book in her hands.

“Am I alive?” I asked.

Holly startled, dropping the book to the floor. She put her hand to her heart. “Yes, you’re alive, but I may be having a heart attack.”

“It’s from reading all of those scary books.” My throat felt raw and scratchy. “Where am I?”

“The guest bedroom in my house. Don’t you remember coming here?”

And then visions all came to me in a flash. Ellison carrying me through the lobby of the inn. Rudy handcuffed on the ground. Swirling blue and red lights. The ambulance ride through the snow. The hospital.

“I remember now,” I said.

“They kept you overnight in the hospital, slowly raising your body temperature. Thankfully, they didn’t need to pump your stomach to get those drugs out. The IV fluids and time did the trick. When they said you could go home, I insisted you come with me.”

Memories surfaced. Ellison pushed me in the wheelchair, helped me get in the car. Holly and Nick tucked me into bed. I called them Mom and Dad.

My eyes widened. “My parents. My brother.”

“They’ve been called,” Holly said. “I told them you were fine, and I’d take good care of you. But I couldn’t talk them out of coming. So, it looks like you’re going to get some visitors in a day or two. Flying in from all over.”

I reached up and slapped my hand onto my forehead. “Where are they even going to stay? I don’t know where to—”

“That is not your problem,” Holly said. “They’ll take care of that. I don’t know if you realize it or not, but Christmasville has a lot of vacancies right now. Your only focus is resting.”

The door to the bedroom cracked open, and Ellison’s face poked in. “Is she awake?”

“No, genius, I’m talking to myself,” Holly said.

It was nice to see that some things hadn’t changed.

Holly stood up and grabbed her book from the floor. “I suppose I should let him have some time with you before you fall asleep and start snoring again.”

“I don’t snore,” I said, indignant.

“Maybe not normally, but in recovery from near death you sleep like a three-hundred-pound elderly man with apnea.” She leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “No offense.”

“A lot taken,” I said.

Ellison came in, covering his mouth and trying to hold back a laugh.

I pointed at Holly’s retreating form. “She’s a liar. I sleep like a dainty princess.”

“I’m sure you do,” he said with a grin.

I shuffled over in the bed, making room for him to sit. He kicked his shoes off and made himself comfortable, sitting up against the headboard and putting one arm around me.

“You gave me the scare of my life,” he said, and from his tone I knew he meant it. “I am so glad you’re okay. If anything had happened to you …”

“It didn’t. Thanks to you.”

I inhaled deeply, finding comfort in his scent, in the softness of his flannel shirt, in the calm of his voice. Now that I was in my right mind again, I fully grasped the gravity of what had happened and how close I’d come.

“How did you find me?” I asked. “What were you doing at the inn?”

He pushed a lock of hair out of my face, letting his finger trail gently down my cheek. “I wanted to ask you to stay at my apartment, but I didn’t want to seem too pushy. Especially since we’d just had that tough talk. So I walked you home. But something about the way Rudy acted with the mail stuck in my head. Some look in his eye when you asked him about the California college catalog. Then we lost power. I texted you to check in, and you didn’t respond. It seemed too early for you to be asleep. I figured I’d walk over and check on you in person. When you didn’t answer your door, I got really worried. Then I came back down to the lobby, and Aaron was interrogating Rudy about a big cut on his face.”

I raised my hand. “That was me.”

“Well, good job, because you carving up his face saved your own life. It riled both of us up.”

“You and Aaron?” I said, surprised.

He nodded. “We buried the hatchet in the name of a common enemy. Rudy claimed he’d been out getting firewood and a branch cut his face. But he’d come back in without firewood. You were missing. And a knife fell out of his coat pocket onto the floor. That’s when I called Nick. Aaron said he’d keep Rudy occupied, with force if necessary, and I went out to search for you.”

“How the hell did you find me?” I asked. “It was dark, and I was hidden away in the woods.”

“I had a flashlight, and even though it was snowing hard, it was still easy to see places where the snow had been disturbed.”

“Yeah, that would have been him dragging me.” I shuddered at the memory.

“And, now and then, I could even see a drop of blood from Rudy’s cut.”

“Go, me!” I said with a weak smile. Even though I was warm, my body shivered. I didn’t want to think about those minutes with Rudy. Ever again.

“He’s in custody?” I asked.

Ellison nodded. “As soon as Nick told him you were alive, he knew he was done. He gave a full confession.”

“Poor Grace,” I said.

“She wants to see you,” Ellison spoke gently. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course.” I covered my mouth with my hand as it stretched in a giant yawn.

“I’ll let her know.” He pushed himself off the bed. “But in the meantime, you should rest.”

He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his lips over mine in the gentlest, sweetest kiss. My eyes closed, and a contented smile spread across my face. With one final wave, he closed the door behind him and padded down the hall. And once again sleep took over.

Sometime later, I woke to the sound of my door creaking open. Holly peeked in and saw my eyes open.

“You hungry?” she asked.

I didn’t know what time it was—or even the day for that matter—but I felt good. Rested. And starving.

“Yes, please,” I said, pulling myself up to sitting.

“Okay, I’ll make you something. In the meantime …” she glanced over her shoulder. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Holly left, and Grace appeared in the doorway. She stepped into the room hesitantly, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her face was pale aside from deep purple bags underneath her once bright eyes.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to see me,” she said softly. “But Ellison said it was okay to come.”

I nodded once. “I’m glad you did.”

Grace closed the door behind her and moved to the upholstered chair beside the bed, sitting slowly.

“I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” she began, her hands fidgeting. “I keep going over everything I didn’t do. What I didn’t see. What I didn’t prevent.”

She swallowed. Her voice cracked.

“After Rudy watched his father die, I should’ve put him in therapy, but he was completely against it. He hated even mentioning that day. But I should have insisted. Instead, I let it slide. I thought maybe he could just … move forward, however he needed to. I told myself that was love. That it was respect. But the truth is, I needed him. With my husband gone, the inn was falling apart. I needed Rudy’s help. I saw his moods, his silences, his aggravation—but teenagers are moody, right? What was I supposed to think?”

I looked down at my hands, then back up. “You thought he was okay. And you were trying to hold everything together.”

“If he’d told me the truth about what happened on the roof, that he was at fault in the accident … if we’d gotten him help … maybe this all could’ve been different. Maybe he wouldn’t have tried to hurt you. Maybe—”

“Stop,” I interrupted, gently but firmly. “You can’t keep doing that. The maybes. The what-ifs. Rudy made his choices. He did this. Not you.”

“But he’s my child,” Grace whispered. “I raised him. And I didn’t see who he was becoming.”

Silence hung heavy between us, filled with all the things that couldn’t be undone. Then Grace’s voice broke, soft and ragged.

“I’m just so glad you survived him,” she said, her eyes glistening, “and stopped him.”

I blinked back a sting behind my eyes. “Me too.”

Grace stood after a moment, brushing invisible dust from her red sweater. Her voice steadied.

“I’m selling the inn.” She glanced toward the window, where sunlight was beginning to stretch into the room. “Aaron’s interested. He thinks he can turn it around. Not into a huge hotel like his family wanted but … how did he say it? A ‘boutique spa and inn.’ ”

I wondered if a new relationship with Angelica had anything to do with that decision. If so, I was happy for them both.

Grace gave me a small, wistful smile. “So at least my husband’s legacy will live on in some way. Just not with me or Rudy at the helm.”

She paused, her gaze steady. “I’ll use the money to retire. Visit Rudy, wherever they send him. In the meantime, I’m moving in with my sister who lives a few towns over. It’s quiet there. Peaceful. I think that’s what I need now.”

“And Jack?” I asked.

“He’s retiring too,” she said, and for the first time, her voice carried the faintest note of warmth. “He promises to stay in touch, which is nice. I feel like he’s part of my family.” She added with the tiniest hint of a smile. “And now he doesn’t have to pretend to have back pain anymore.”

I chuckled. “He came clean to you?”

“Yeah, we had a good heart-to-heart.” Her smile grew a little. “Even though we won’t be working at the inn, we’re going to see each other often.”

I nodded, something easing in my chest as I watched her. I hoped they were able to help each other heal. They both deserved that much.

Grace stepped closer and reached out, her hand finding mine atop the blanket. Her palm was warm, her grip gentle but sure.

“Keep my town safe, okay?” she said.

I met her gaze, a new steadiness in my voice. “I’ll do my best.”

She squeezed my hand once, then let go and walked to the door. Before she left, she turned back one last time, the light catching the silver in her hair and the soft determination in her face.

Grace was stronger than she thought, and I knew she would be okay.

She’d only been gone a minute when Holly came in, carrying a tray of food.

“Thanks,” I said, sitting up straighter. “That smells incredible.”

She set the tray down on the nightstand. Steam rose from a bowl of squash soup, and a fresh-baked baguette practically called out to me. My stomach growled.

“Do you have the energy for one more visitor?” she asked. “Carol wants to see you.”

Carol? I figured she’d still be busy firing off statements to the media. “Sure, send her in.”

“The soup needs a few minutes to cool down anyway,” Holly said. “I made it fresh for you.”

I sang the first few bars of “Wind Beneath My Wings” until she winced and said, “Never do that again.”

Holly left, and a moment later Carol slid into the room like a breath of fresh air. She wore an impeccably white tailored suit, not a hair out of place, and a fresh manicure. My guess was that someone was enjoying her camera time.

“How’s my favorite employee?” she asked with a wide smile.

“Much better,” I said honestly. “I feel like I slept for a year, but I’m good now.”

Carol settled into the armchair and crossed her legs. “That’s good to hear. You had us all worried. Especially a certain handsome bookstore owner.” She wagged her eyebrows with theatrical flourish.

Subtle as always, I thought, biting back a grin. “How’s the media?”

Carol sighed dramatically. “Have you ever seen a shark feeding frenzy on one of those nature documentaries?”

I chuckled. “That bad, huh?”

She waved her hand in the air. “I’m handling it. The town is safe again, and I’m turning every interview into a public service announcement. ‘Yes, it was horrifying, but also—have you tried our hot cocoa crawl? And don’t forget to book your sleigh ride in advance! Enter our mural contest!’ ”

Only Carol could turn a serial killer into free advertising.

She leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Which brings me to my next question. When can you come back to work? Christmasville needs you and your talents. We have some … eh … reputation rehab that I think you can help with. You are staying, right?”

I already knew the answer. I’d felt it deep down since the moment I woke up here, surrounded by care and community. But saying it out loud made it real.

“Yes, I’m staying.”

Carol let out a gleeful squeal and clapped her hands like she’d just won a prize. “Wonderful! Your office is ready whenever you are.”

Her phone lit up with a call, and she glanced at it, then gave me an apologetic smile.

“Duty calls. More free publicity! I’ll check in again soon.”

She was gone in a flurry of white and peppermint-scented perfume, and the room settled again, quiet and sun-warmed.

I leaned back against the pillows, Carol’s energy still buzzing faintly in the air. Rebuilding the town’s image wouldn’t be easy, but it was a challenge I was ready for. Hope stirred in my chest, warm and steady.

I had work to do.

A lease to sign.

A man to kiss.

And a Christmas to remember.

It was good to be home.

Acknowledgments

One night, I was heading upstairs to watch TV in bed when my husband asked, “What are you going to watch? A Christmas romance or a murder show? Because it’s always one or the other.” I laughed and said wistfully, “If only I could combine the two. I wish there was a Christmas romance where the cozy small town had a serial killer problem.” He laughed. I laughed. Then I thought … wait.

A Killer for Christmas was sparked from that one small conversation, so I have to thank my husband, Mike, first—for always cheering me on, no matter how weird I get.

Huge thanks also to Ryan, Mom, Ann, and Tony for your support and encouragement along the way.

Thank you to my agent, Kate Testerman, for championing this book, and to my editor, Denise Zaza, for loving it from the start. The entire team at Crooked Lane Books has been amazing. Thank you all so much!

Also available by Kim Harrington:

Novels

Revenge of the Red Club

The Dead and Buried

The Gamer Squad Series

App of the Living Dead

Close Encounters of the Nerd Kind

Attack of the Not-So-Virtual Monsters

The Sleuth or Dare Series

Framed and Dangerous

Sleepover Stakeout

Partner in Crime

The Clarity Series

Perception

Clarity

Author Biography

Kim Harrington is the author of A Killer for Christmas, her debut adult mystery from Crooked Lane Books. She is also known for her teen novels Clarity, Perception, The Dead and Buried, and Forget Me, as well as books for younger readers, including Revenge of the Red Club, the Sleuth or Dare series, and the Gamer Squad series. Kim lives in Massachusetts with her family and never leaves the house without a book. She has an MBA but would rather plot twists than business plans. When not writing, she’s most likely reading or dreaming about her next vacation.

Books should be disposed of and recycled according to local requirements. All paper materials used are FSC compliant.

This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2026 by Kim Harrington

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Crooked Lane Books, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

Crooked Lane Books and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.

Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.

ISBN (hardcover): 979-8-89242-502-5

ISBN (paperback): 979-8-89242-503-2

ISBN (ebook): 979-8-89242-504-9

Cover design by Amanda Shaffer

Printed in the United States.

www.crookedlanebooks.com

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New York, NY 10001

First Edition: September 2026

The authorized representative in the EU for product safety and compliance is eucomply OÜPärnu mnt 139b-14, 11317 Tallinn, Estonia, hello@eucompliancepartner.com, +33757690241

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