3 Madness in Christmas River by Meg Muldoon Read Free Book Online Page B

this morning,” he said. “They didn’t capture a damn thing.”   
    He pulled a pen from his pocket and a business card from his back pocket, and began writing.
    “Here,” he said. “This is my cell.”
    He handed it to me.
    “If you hear anything about any of this, let me know,” he said.
    “I will,” I said.
    He nodded and then rushed down the steps in one sweeping motion. He walked quickly to his car, got in, and turned the engine over. A second later, he was rolling down the street.  
    I stuffed the card into my pocket, my hand brushing against the bent and weathered photo.
    I looked out at my driveway and sighed.
    Halfway through talking to Deputy McHale, it had occurred to me that something looked different about my driveway this morning.
    Marie’s Mercedes Benz was gone.
     

 
    Chapter 12
     
    I dialed her number again.
    It rang five times before going to her voicemail. Again.
    “Hey honey,” the recording played, in what sounded like Marie’s very best Liza Minnelli impression. “It’s Marie, leave a message and I’ll get right back to you. Promise.”
    I hung up before I could leave another message for her, asking where she’d taken off to and when she was planning to come back.
    “Did you check the tavern?” Kara asked, popping a piece of freshly baked gingerbread into her mouth. “I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet when it comes to your cousin.”
    I propped the back door open to let some cold air into the stuffy kitchen.
    “I drove by before work,” I said. “Her car wasn’t there.”
    It was late-afternoon, and the onslaught of customers at the pie shop finally seemed to be slowing down. Chrissy and Tiana had been working themselves into the ground to try and keep the line flowing. It got so bad that I actually had to help ring customers up at the front.
    But thankfully, the crowd was starting to peter out. Which was good, because there were other things that I needed to work on.
    Like the gingerbread house. Kara and I had plans to start designing the gingerbread castle we were going to build for my wedding.
    “But that’s just like Marie, isn’t it?” Kara said. “She’s always blowing in and out of town like that without telling anybody. She probably just met an old high school sweetheart at the tavern the other night and took off to the casino in Warm Springs. You know how she likes to gamble.”
    “I know. She’s probably just fine,” I said. “It’s just… I don’t know. I’ve got a strange feeling about all of it.”
    After stopping by the Pine Needle Tavern to check for Marie, I drove by the plaza and the Christmas tree to get a look at the damage.
    When I saw the tree, lying on its side like a fallen giant, I had trouble not slowing down and gawking at it like a driver passing by the scene of a nine vehicle pile-up.
    The tree, which had been so beautifully decorated, was now ravaged. All its ornaments lay broken and scattered across the plaza. The large plastic ones looked like deflated soccer balls rolling lopsidedly around the brick ground.
    Many of the tree branches had been broken, and a few big gaping holes exposed the tree’s trunk.
    A few pieces of tinsel clung to the broken branches, blowing sadly in the wind.
    Yellow police tape zig-zagged back and forth across the plaza.
    My heart plummeted as the violence of it all sank in.
    I hadn’t expected to be so moved, but I was.
    The annual Christmas tree always meant so much to the people in this town. And even though I didn’t like getting all sentimental and sappy, the tree always meant a lot to me too. It meant sharing a hot ginger cinnamon sugar pretzel with Warren. It meant gathering together with friends and family. It meant the start of the most magical season in Christmas River.
    Seeing it mutilated like that made my heart ache. Like seeing the remains of busted Jack-O-Lanterns scattered across the street just days before Halloween. Only on a much bigger scale.
    Who would do such a thing to the