Page 9 of A Christmas to Die For
Wow. Small towns really are too trusting.
Before the events that happened at the cabin, this town barely had a crime rate—just a few winter skiing accidents, the kind you'd expect in any snowy mountain village. Sure, some cars slid off the mountain and crashed in the rocks below, but that happens everywhere, right?
Another figure appears, this one clean-shaven, looking a little startled himself.
"Oh, hi," he says, wiping damp hands on his pants. "Sorry about that. I was in the restroom. I'm the records clerk. Were you waiting long?"
"Not at all. Just a few minutes."
I pull out my phone and see Mara's message light up the screen.
Before answering, I turn back to the man, whose laminated name tag reads Robert.
"I know we didn't hear back, but I was really hoping you could share some information about Romee Anderson's case. My name is—"
"Mara Calloway?" Robert interrupts brightly. "You requested these by email, remember? If I'd known you werecoming to pick up a second copy, I would've had them ready. I'm so sorry. It'll take at least a day..."
I force a smile, even as confusion churns in my gut.
Mara told me they never responded to her inquiry. She made it sound like they blew her off. Yet here is Robert, acting like everything went through exactly as it should have.
If Mara already got the files, why didn't she share them with me? What is she keeping from me?
I plaster on my best dumb smile.
"Oh my gosh, that's right. Sorry, it totally slipped my mind. I'm Mara," I say, extending a hand.
Robert shakes it quickly, looking almost regretful, like he's dropped the ball on something.
"You look different than I expected," he adds.
My stomach flips. Shit. Has he seen her headshot at the bottom of her email signature?
Before I can spiral, Robert asks, "Did you get the documents I emailed?"
"Oh, yes!" I say brightly. "Sorry again for the confusion."
Trying to shift the conversation, I add, "Do you get a lot of questions about what happened that night?"
The case is closed and has been for months now. The frenzy surrounding it has finally faded, leaving behind a quiet town where everyone involved has found their own form of closure.
"Most of the inquiries were from media outlets," Robert says, "But it's died down since the investigation concluded. Everything's accessible online these days. I hope you didn't have trouble accessing theencrypted files."
I watch him for a moment, trying to gauge if he has anything else to add.
"No issues. No. But, umm, is Jessica here?" I ask, almost on a whim. "The dispatcher who took the emergency calls that night?"
It's a last-ditch effort to get someone with firsthand knowledge.
Jessica's a Frosthaven Falls local—she might have insight no one else does.
Sure, she dodged all our interview requests when the story exploded nearly a year ago, but maybe, face-to-face, she wouldn't ghost me.
Robert glances around, like he's making sure we're still alone, before shaking his head.
"She took a leave of absence after the case wrapped up." His voice drops like he's sharing some hot gossip. "People kept hounding her for details. Even after she was cleared, it didn't stop. It got pretty bad."
I nod, feeling a flicker of sympathy. Still, there's something about the way he says it that makes me wonder if that's the whole story.
