For a second she thought the sudden animation was a cruel joke, that someone was manipulating the horrifying display. But no, while her heartbeat skyrocketed into the stratosphere, she realized she’d been caught in some hidden camera’s eye and inadvertently activated a motion detector sending old Kriss Kringle into his full, porcine stature. Even so, with a glance at the Santa’s shiny face she felt a niggle of fear snake down her spine. His painted eyes seemed outlandishly round and ogling, his red lips beneath a painted-on beard appeared to grin with fake, toothy intensity. Like an evil clown in a house of horror.
Your imagination again.
That’s all!
First you think you see your long-vanished sister, now you think someone is playing sick mind games with you.
Just calm the hell down.
Yet her pace increased. Only two more blocks. She prayed Tate was still waiting for her.
Over the rapid beating of her heart, she thought she heard footsteps. Quiet, but steady, muffled by the snow but ever following.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Squinted through the snowfall.
Nothing.
“Get over it,” she muttered, still walking.
And then she heard it.
“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” in that same robotic voice.
Oh. Dear. God.
CHAPTER 21
Kara’s heart nearly stopped.
She whirled on the sidewalk to peer intently through the veil of snowflakes steadily falling from the night sky.
Her breathing shallow as a frightened rabbit’s.
Was someone behind her?
Did she just see movement, a shadow quickly disappearing between two parked, frozen vehicles sitting and collecting snow in front of the house with the creepy plastic Santa?
Don’t let your fears get the better of you.
It’s all in your mind.
What does Dr. Zhou say? “Breathe. Think calm thoughts. Mind over matter. Face your fears.”
But the now-silent Santa was still inflated, the whir of its pump loud in the night. Something or someone had set off the motion detector.
“Shit!”
No time to waste and think about it.
Only two more blocks to the church lot.
Heart pounding, she started running. Faster and faster, her boots sliding a bit, her breathing wild.
It’s only your mind, Kara, just your mind! She didn’t care. Wasn’t strong enough to turn and wait until her heart rate slowed or someone actually did leap out at her. She wasn’t going to take that chance.
Slap, slap, slap! Her footsteps beat a frantic tattoo only intensified by the pounding of her heart.
Flying, she ran through the narrow, empty street.
Slap, slap, slap!
Whether it was her imagination or someone was really after her, she raced around a final corner silently praying that Tate had waited for her. That he hadn’t given up. That— She slid around the corner.
She rounded a corner and spied a single vehicle in the old church’s parking lot, a black Toyota RAV4.
Tate was at the wheel, his face illuminated by some kind of screen that he was reading.
As if he’d noticed her from the corner of his eye, he glanced up just as she dashed across the parking lot and raced to the passenger side of his SUV.
“Let’s go,” she said, sliding into the warm interior and slamming the door shut behind her. “You know, like now!”
“Trouble?” he asked, his eyebrows slamming together.
“I don’t know. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Fine.” He slipped his iPad into the console, then checking his mirrors, eased easily out of the empty lot.
Kara swiped a patch of condensation away so that she had a better view of the side street as they drove past. There was nothing. The neighborhood was quiet, no dark figure hiding in the shrubbery or peering out from behind a lamppost. Slowly she let out a breath.
“You look like you just saw a ghost.”
She thought of Marlie and the woman who, until a few seconds ago, she would have sworn was her missing sister. “Just a very weird Santa Claus.”
“Weird?” He slowed for a stop sign. “Santa?”
“Never mind. It was just one of those odd Christmas displays. Inflatable. Kind of freaked me out. “I’m okay.” The inside of the RAV4 seemed safe somehow, the dash lights glowing, the heater blowing warm air, the windows and doors locked tight.
Tate was no longer in the hospital scrubs, having changed into jeans, shirt and leather jacket. “Where to?” he asked.
“First my house.”
“The cops might be there.”
“I’m not running from the police.”