Page 5 of Christmas Past
“I shouldn’t have bothered you. I just get these…panic attacks sometimes…”
Which were none of his business. And perfectly normal, according to what she’d read. All part of breaking away from the brainwashing – from the cult-like life she’d led.
“Where is she?” His question was curt. Almost accusing.
And while his dark gaze was no less pointed, she sensed real concern there. Almost…fear?
“Where’s who?” she asked, confused.
“Where’s the girl?”
The girl?
Snow was blowing in through the crack in the door. Her toes were going to be icicles if she didn’t get rid of him soon.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your phone call.” Clearly impatient now, he had a hand on his holster and the other on her door. “You knew she’d wet her pants. Where is she?”
A lightning strike of fear raced through her. She fell back a step. Her feelings…the disassociated ones…they weren’t real.
Chad Andrews pushed his way inside her house. “Just tell me where she is. Let me see that she’s alright and we can work through the rest of it.”
She had no idea where ‘she’ was. That was the whole point.
“I made her up.” She said the only thing she knew. Said what she so desperately needed to believe.
“You made her up.” He was frowning. Shaking his head. And taking in the big, open room that contained her entire home minusbedrooms, a bath and the laundry. He started to move around the room, looking at god knew what.
Until he saw the herbs on the long butcher block work station that filled what used to be a dining area off the kitchen. It was now all cupboards and counter tops, including the island work station.
She knew what he was thinking as he made a bee-line for the counter – drugs.
“It’s sage,” she told him. And pulled open the cupboard doors underneath the huge island, showing him labeled containers filled with dried herbs.
He knew she sold spices. Everyone did. Most people in town bought from her. They placed orders on the Internet, or at the grocery, and she left them filled in the trunk-sized box out at the end of her drive. There was a locked pay slot out there, too. Maybe her system wouldn’t work everywhere, but in Christmas Town where everyone tried to embody the Christmas spirit all year long, it worked.
“I’m doing basil next,” she said inanely. “The peppermint’s selling most, of course, but I spent the summer putting up enough of that to get me through the Christmas season. Contrary to what you might think…it sells well all year round. It helps with headaches…” She was starting to feel strange things again. If it got to the point of overwhelming, he was going to haul her off to the looney bin. And she wouldn’t blame him.
“I have panic attacks,” she blurted. Just to pre-empt any hauling off.
“There’s medication you can take for that.” He was looking in her closet.
“Or I can learn to control my own mind,” she responded. She’d already made that choice. She was on a quest to find her reality, not alter it. No drugs for her. Period.
He was looking around the laundry room and then asked, “Where are the bedrooms?”
He didn’t have a warrant. She had nothing to hide. “Back there.” She pointed to the hall on the other side of the room. She never should have called him.
She’d known she shouldn’t call him. It wasn’t like she was an upstanding, respected member of the community. She’d known he didn’t trust her.
Watching his back as he disappeared down the hall, she broke out in a cold sweat. Completely unrelated to him in her space. Her knees went weak. And then her hands.
As though she had no strength in her body at all. No ability to push through the walls that were binding her. No way to get to…
Her mind went blank.
Chapter 3
