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She and Alison emerged from the mall to find big, fat snowflakes falling, the kind you just knew were going to lay. The forecast predicted four to six inches.
“It’s gonna be a white Christmas,” Emma said, catching a big flake on her tongue as she and Alison made their way to Alison’s car.
“Isn’t it great? I’m so glad we got Riley his first sled. That’ll be so much fun tomorrow.”
Alison unlocked the trunk where they stowed their bags, and then they got in the car and waited for it to warm up. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night?” Alison asked. “We’d love to have you for Christmas morning, too.”
Emma shook her head. “I’m sure. You know I appreciate it. But Riley’s only five, and Christmas morning is so special at that age. I’ll look forward to seeing you all for dinner.”
It wasn’t the first time Alison had asked, nor the first time Emma had turned her down. She appreciated the invitation, of course, but she didn’t want to horn in on their family time that way.
The drive home took a little longer than usual with the roads already getting slippery, but before long, Alison was dropping her at home again. “Merry Christmas, Alison.”
“Merry Christmas, Em,” Alison said as they hugged over the center console.
“Don’t get out,” Emma said. “Just pop your trunk so I can grab my things.” When she was done, she stood at the curb and waved as Alison pulled away.
Darkness was descending earlier than usual due to the storm, but Emma still took a moment to look up and down her street. Shaking her head at herself, she went inside, where she had to fight her way in against the huge pile of mail that’d been dropped through the slot in her front door.
She kicked off her boots, dropped her bags and purse onto the dining room table, and then went back for the mail, smiling at all the red envelopes that indicated Christmas cards. Feet aching, she half fell into one of the carved chairs at her grandmother’s cherished table and worked her way through the dozen or so cards that’d arrived. Photo cards showing friends’ children. Holiday letters that caught her up on college classmates’ lives. Sparkly cards that left glitter on her fingers.
Emma was enjoying her sparkly hands as she opened the next-to-last red envelope. She pulled the card out. It had a silly cartoon Santa peeking from behind a curtain and read, You Better Watch Out!
Snorting, Emma flipped the card open. The interior had the same picture, but focused more tightly on Santa’s eyes through the curtain, and it read,
I see you when you’re sleeping!
Merry Christmas!
There was no signature. She turned it over and looked at the envelope, but there was no identifying information. Silly kids. How many times had she gotten cards or pictures at school where the kids had forgotten to sign them, and she had to go around asking so she knew who to thank.
The last card had a pretty picture of a church in a snowy field, lights on a small grouping of trees to the side. It was from one of the fifth-grade teachers Emma didn’t know well, and she set the envelope aside so she remembered to add the lady’s address to her card list for next year.
Chewy paced to the kitchen doorway and gave a little bark. Then two more urgent ones.
“Sorry, sorry,” Emma said, retrieving her boots. “I should’ve taken you out right away, shouldn’t I? But Mama’s feet hurt, little man.”
Chewy’s tail beat on a double time, and he began barking and dancing in circles.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said, stepping into her boots near the back door. She grabbed a sweatshirt off a hook and slipped into it. “Okay, let’s go see how deep the snow is.”
Chewy took off like a shot to do his business, but Emma couldn’t pay him any mind. Because there were faint footsteps leading from her gate, through her yard, up her steps, and onto her porch. They were recent-ish, judging by how the heavy falling snow had covered and filled them in. But even in the near-dark, she had no doubt that they were definitely there.
Twin reactions erupted inside Emma: anger and fear. The first because someone had trespassed on her property. Had it been Caine? If so, why? The footsteps were under the kitchen window and near the back door. And the second because someone had trespassed on her property. And if it hadn’t been Caine, who had it been?
“Come on, Chewy,” Emma called. He came right away, a little pile of snow clinging to his black nose. But just then, Emma didn’t have time to pay attention to Chewy’s cuteness.
Instead, she grabbed her cell phone, fished out the business card from her purse, and dialed Sheriff Martin. It went to voicemail.
