says I don’t have to share if I don’t want to. And why,” she said, tipping the sweating bottle up to her lips again, “would I want to share such an excellent brew?” She grinned around the lip of the bottle, and Jake couldn’t help but chuckle at Baxter’s consternation.
“So how are you going to get home, then, now that you’ve had some ‘open alcohol’?” Baxter demanded.
“Why, Dr. DeRiccio is going to drive me in this very nice vehicle in an hour or two after we wait to make sure no one decides to come back and poke around here at the theater. Since the doc won’t be having any more to drink, he can be the DD.”
“Hey, wait a minute—” Jake began, but Baxter was already reaching around Helga to fish out a beer for himself.
“You heard the officer, Jake,” Baxter said with a grin as he popped the top and took a long pull. “You’re the designated driver.”
“You know, Helga, all you had to do was ask for a beer,” Jake said dryly. “We would have shared.”
“But, you see, the way it all worked out, I’ve acquired an entire case of B-Cubed—and I’ve got some backup in case anything else happens here tonight.” She smiled brightly, leaned against the car, and took another long pull from the longneck. “Now, Baxter, get me that drawing so we can figure out what kind of car that bastard is driving. And since he drove through all that glass, let’s hope he’s got a flat tomorrow.”
It was dark when Vivien awoke, and very quiet. She had to scrabble around for her phone to see what time it was, then squinted and blinked when its light blared into the darkness. Two thirty a.m.
She lay there for a moment, listening to the silence—so unusual for someone used to being in the city. No horns, no engines or planes, no shouts or music or clangs or sirens…
Did she like it? Or did she wish she were back where everything was happening all the time, where she could get takeout of any ethnic—or not ethnic—cuisine in the world whenever she wanted?
Where she was safe from whatever threatened her here.
Vivien’s wry laugh was sharp in the silent darkness. “Imagine that, Liv—I was safer in New York City than I am here in little Wicks Hollow.”
A light brush over her left arm, lifting the hair there, told her Liv heard her and was amused as well.
Then the flash of dry humor evaporated, because what was there to laugh about?
She threw off the bedcovers and rose, the flimsy summer nightgown light and airy around her thighs. There was no air conditioning in this little old bungalow, so fans, open windows, and cool clothing were de rigueur for July and August. At least it wasn’t as hot as it was in the city, where the flat concrete absorbed and reflected all the heat—and baked all the smells from the perennially waiting trash cans.
She padded out from the bedroom on bare feet, heading toward the kitchen for something to eat. Light streamed in from the front door and the windows beside it, as well as by the back door leading into the fenced-in yard, so she didn’t need to turn on any of the interior lights.
She came into the living room and saw a dark shape rearing by the sofa. She froze, her heart surging into her throat as she strangled back a scream.
The shadow spilled over the floor in front of her, and its shape was horribly familiar: long, straight, with a flat, slanted end.
Chapter Thirteen
Vivien lived an eternity of horror before she realized the horrible shadow was from the Nutcracker headpiece she’d set on the table.
Its grinning white teeth caught the light from outside and seemed to glow in the dim light, and the mask’s wide-open eyes appeared to fixate on her as she fought to get her heart to start beating again.
“All right. I’m good. It’s all good,” she said, walking past the living room into the tiny kitchen.
She was hungry—the olives and bread at Jake’s had been a long time ago, and not nearly enough of a meal after the way she’d been running around all day at the theater. But, as Helga had pointed out, there was very little in the cupboards and next to nothing in the fridge. And since it was two thirty in the morning, there was nowhere she could order from in Wicks Hollow.
“Guess it’s gonna be frozen pizza,” she said. Again.