part0071

While Jake Hawksworth was doling out some serious cash for a tennis bracelet, Paige McCauley was putting the finishing touches on the wreath that adorned her stately front door. She shuffled down the icy walkway and turned to admire her handiwork.

The façade boasted twelve windows, each framing a wreath, each wreath donning a red bow. Three spotlights bathed it all in a warm glow.

“Perfect,” she whispered. Perfect. And normal. That is what this holiday season was going to be at the McCauley residence. Perfectly normal. She caught a glimpse of the police cruiser idling in the driveway.

A surprise gust sent swirls of snow dancing about her feet. The wreaths scratched at the windows. Paige hugged her coat to her throat and half-walked, half-skated to the house.

She slammed the door, punched the code on the alarm pad, removed her coat and boots, and hurried into the living room. A blast of heat from the fireplace welcomed her. Aside from the occasional crackle of wood or wind gust slapping the shingles, the house was silent. Too silent.

Not a creature was stirring …

Paige wished she had decided to join Drew and the kids in their quest for the perfect Christmas tree. She glanced out the window. The sight of the police cruiser was comforting.

She took in the grandness surrounding her. The house was bedecked in holiday elegance that would make Martha Stewart’s mouth water. All it lacked was the piece de résistance, the fifteen-foot-plus tree.

Drew would struggle to set it up, struggle with the lights. As a family, they would trim the tree. Ben, it had been decided, would put the star on top. Then they would all sit by the roaring fire and play board games until late into the evening.

For the very last time.

This realization hit Paige hard. She and Drew had discussed it at length two nights ago. They would play happy family right up to Christmas. On the day after Christmas, the family would leave on the two-week cruise Drew had booked almost a year ago. Jake had tried to convince them to move the trip up, but Drew insisted on spending Christmas at home.

When they returned, all tanned and rested and with ten extra pounds to their frames, they would break the news to the kids. Ben, Paige feared, would take it the hardest. And it was for him that she wept the most.

She glanced out at the cruiser again. Puffs of smoke from the exhaust mixed with gusts of white powder. The officer on duty was invisible behind fogged up glass. He must be cold, she thought. She could use a cup of tea anyway. Why not make enough to go around?

She entered the kitchen. A chill seized her. The moon bathed the backyard in an eerie light, playing off the blanket of snow, filtering through the triple sliders, ending in a pool of yellowish glow at her feet.

Paige padded across the highly polished floor in stocking feet. She picked up the kettle and shook it, force of habit. Almost empty. She placed it under the faucet, turned on the water. She gazed out at the row of hedges, soldiers standing guard along the patio’s edge, confetti falling all around them.

A flicker of light to the right.

A shape. Sliced neatly from the moonlit backdrop.

Paige had always heard that sheer terror was paralyzing. She’d heard wrong.

By the time the kettle connected with the sink, she was halfway across the floor. She bolted down the hallway. The front door grew nearer. Beyond it the protection of an armed officer.

Shaky fingers fumbled with the deadbolt. A blast of cold air slammed her as the door flew open. The alarm was deafening. Eyes focused on the cruiser, she hit the walkway running.

She lost her footing, went down hard. Her head connected with a granite step. The cruiser went to soft focus. The alarm continued its dutiful cry. She turned her neck. The pounding in her head took a back seat to something worse. Total and utter horror.

The shape. Coming closer. Coming fast.

Drew heard the wail of the alarm as he maneuvered the Range Rover down the driveway, the weight of the massive car crushing ice into dust. He floored it.

“What’s that noise, Daddy?” Anna asked with sleepy disinterest.

Drew caught his son’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They registered the same terror they’d revealed in that horrific Polaroid Drew had found on The Day Life Became a Living Hell.

The house came into view. It looked magnificent. Once again, Paige had outdone herself.

The blare of the alarm and the crunching ice created a symphony of horror, rattling Drew to the core.

Paige made no effort to move, knew it was in vain. This is what it’s like to be paralyzed by fear. The black shape sailed toward her. The screech of the alarm pulsated in her head, but the noise was distant now, miles away.

The crunch of footsteps was on her. Rapid-fire questions raced through her mind.

–Why didn’t I go with them?–

–Why didn’t we listen to Jake and leave for that damned trip?–

–Who’s going to teach Anna how to grow into a woman?–

–How is Drew going to raise them on his own?–

–Why isn’t that bastard here to protect me?–

Something cold brushed her cheek. A voice faded in and out. A kind voice. A concerned voice. The voice was not Martin McCauley’s.

“Mrs. McCauley, are you okay?” The almost-young-enough-to-be-her-son police officer knelt beside her. Another voice, farther away.

Her husband’s face appeared next to the kid playing cop. Though Drew’s forehead was creased with worry, he still looked remarkably youthful.

“What happened?” Drew demanded.

The officer shook his head. “I don’t know, Mr. McCauley. I was doing my rounds out back when the alarm went off. I came back around front and found your wife right here.”

Drew instructed the officer on how to turn off the alarm, then turned to face Paige. “Paige, can you hear me?”

Paige managed a nod. This sent a whole new set of spikes jamming into her brain. “I thou… I thought…” The words slipped off her tongue like honey off a spoon, slowly, deliberately. “… it was your brother.”

Drew stroked her hair. “My brother is long gone.”

The alarm silenced. The wind whipped around them. The soft crunch of footsteps.

“Mommy!” Anna threw herself onto her mother, sending daggers through Paige’s body.

Drew gently lifted Anna’s tiny body off and pulled it close to his. Ben stood behind his father, body trembling. The officer appeared again and said, “Ambulance is on the way. Hang tight, Mrs. McCauley.”

The faces of her family floated above her, their lips moving, their eyes caverns of sadness. They came in and out of focus, danced in and out of her field of vision. She rotated her head, tried to keep up with them as they bobbed around.

And then he was there.

Behind the police cruiser. Smiling.

She tried to cry out, but nothing came out.

Drew put a gloved finger to her lips. “Try not to move.”

The faces of her family and the police officer danced around again. Her eyes searched for Martin. Maybe she’d imagined it after all. He reappeared.

Martin no longer smiled. His face was pure hatred. He blew her a kiss. Then he was gone.

She no longer felt cold. Her head no longer ached. She desired only one thing. To sleep.