Page 22 of A Christmas to Die For
"I'll do it," I joke.
Mara rolls her eyes at me, unamused. "Maybe we should leave."
"Mara, what? No way! You're not serious, are you?" I shriek.
"We barely even made it here in one piece. I'm just getting a bad feeling. And now the note? Do we need a bigger sign to leave? This is freaking me out."
"How about this," Phoebe suggests. "Let's stay the night. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We can check out the cabin later in the morning—if there's nothing useful, we'll just head home after."
Mara looks hopeful, her eyes pleading like she can't stand being here another minute. But there's no way I'm leaving without snapping a selfie as proof of my existence there.
"Fine," I concede. "But the cabin's a priority. My idea is as good as dead if we leave before visiting."
Iactually want to leave. So much so that if there were Ubers up here, I'd gladly pay the fare for a ten-hour ride home.
But it's nearing dinnertime, and all we have left are finger food snacks and nothing filling.
"I'm going to take a hot shower before pizza." Sabrina shuffles toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
A steady cascade of snowflakes begins to pour from the evening sky. As I watch from the window, the town is bathed in a light gray, reminding me of death. The shadows stretch long, making the small town feel even more isolated. Like everyone here knows something we don't.
"Hey, while I have you alone," Phoebe begins. "Why didn't you share the case files with me?"
She catches me completely off guard, and I'm momentarily thrown. I don't know how to explain what I know without revealing something that needs to stay private. Butmore importantly, how does she even know I requested the files in the first place?
"Which files?" I play dumb.
"Everything related to Romee Anderson and that night. You told me they never got back to you about the files and everything in them."
I should have shared the files with Phoebe earlier, especially since I came up empty-handed with the specific detail I was looking for. There was nothing defamatory in the files, so I decide to be honest.
"Sorry, I've been a bit out of it lately. Ever since that failed episode, I've been focused on covering our bases. I know we found a lot online, but I wanted to see if the local police had anything that didn't leak to the media. Turns out, it wasn't much. Nothing exciting. It didn't seem worth handing over, since we already had plenty of documents. I'm sorry if it seemed like I was being secretive."
"Mara, it's okay. You don't have to explain. I was just curious."
Phoebe's kindness and trust in me are almost overwhelming. I want to tell her everything—the things I know, things she'd hate to hear, things I've kept from both her and Sabrina. And once I say them, nothing will ever be the same again.
"How did you know I got them, anyway?"
"Well, I went to the police station when you and Sabrina were at Trader Joe's."
A chill shoots through me, despite the warmth of the room. Why is Phoebe digging so deep? What is she looking for? And what if she finds something she shouldn't?
"And nothing?"
"The records guy said he already emailed everything… to you. But here's the weird part…" Phoebe shifts in bed, her laptop still resting on her lap. "I saw Albert leaving the records room with a file under his arm. This was before Robert, the clerk who works there, came back in. It was strange. Like, what was he taking?"
"Why didn't you say something when he was putting the chains on our tires?"
"I was sleeping, remember? And by the time I woke up, he was already at it."
"He knows you saw him. The two women at the convenience store said he has dementia. What he did was no doubt disgusting, but it explains a lot. I almost feel bad for him." I think back to the earlier hours, when their voices were filled with such judgment.
"Either way, I wonder what he's hiding or trying to keep buried." Phoebe keeps typing away on her laptop.
"Finalizing Holly's episode?"
"Yeah," Phoebe replies, eyes squinting against the blue light of her screen. "Depending on how it airs, we might need to rethink our goals for the new year. I don't know how much longer I can keep—"
