Page 32 of Ghosts From Christmas Past

He stepped closer. “Go into the living room.” He stopped and added, “It’ll be safer there.”

“Why is it safer?” she asked, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the living room. Jesse stopped when she was near the end table. Right in the same spot where she’d fallen when. . .

“We are the same blood.”

Her eyes widened, and a scream tore from her throat. Those words. The same one he’d whispered all those years ago.

“You?” Tears of disbelief filled her eyes. “You did this. Why?”

Anger replaced Jesse’s dazed expression. “Why? Because you belong to me. It was supposed to be me you fell in love with, not him!” he raged. “We are the same blood. We’re both Arapaho. We share the same history. He doesn’t. How could you fall in love with him?”

Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. Jesse was always so proud of his Arapaho blood. It was something he and Charlie had in common.

While her mind worked to untangle the terrible truth, she spotted the knife in his hand.

“It’s the same one. Only fitting, don’t you think? We’ll both be together. I should have made sure you were dead before I left, but I heard something.”

She turned to run, but he seized her from behind. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not getting away this time.”

He jerked her close and turned her so that she faced away. The knife was cold against her throat.

“Don’t do this, Jesse. Think about Melissa.”

“Shut up,” he yelled, and the knife dug in a little deeper.

Would it end this way? She’d tried so hard to remember that day, but she was too late.

“Drop the knife, Jesse.” Dylan! He was here. Her eyes latched onto his. As long as she could see him, everything would be okay.

“No.” Jesse shrieked. “Let me finish this. Let me end it for me and for Charlie because I can’t live with this pain any longer. I never meant for this to happen.”

“I know. Let me help you. But you have to put down the knife.”

“You can’t help me,” Jesse declared, and the hand holding the knife shook, nicking her skin.

“I can and I will. I know you didn’t intend to kill Patricia and Barlow. Put the knife down and tell me your side of the story.”

“Just shoot me. My life is over. Please, just kill me.”

Dylan shook his head. “I’m not going to do that. You’re my friend. Put down the knife and let’s talk.”

Charlie could feel Jesse’s body quaking.

“Please, Jesse. Let this end here. I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s not have anyone else die in this house.”

The knife left her throat and hit the floor with a loud clang. Jesse’s grip loosened. She was free.

Charlie ran across the room and straight into the arms of the man she’d love for the rest of her life.

Dylan gathered her close. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

She held him close and watched as Sam cuffed Jesse and led him from the house.

“I can’t believe it. He killed my family because I told him you and I had gotten married. If I hadn’t said anything—”

He looked into her eyes. “No. This isn’t your fault. This is on Jesse. He’s my friend, and I will do everything I can to help him, but he will pay for what he did to you and to your family.”

She looked into his eyes and believed him. “I love you, Dylan. I’m so glad you waited for me.”

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