A Christmas Horror Story. Sebastian Gregory

moved to Stanton. I saw Mr. Santrock today and signed the papers to transfer the ownership of my uncle’s property to me. He didn’t have a key to Mountjoy and questioned whether there was one. I’m going to explore the place as soon as I can.”

      Lance hesitated before he asked, “Alone?”

      “Yes. Mr. Santrock couldn’t go with me for several days, and I don’t want to wait that long. I won’t take Brooke with me until I see what the place is like, so I’ll have to wait until Monday.”

      He didn’t say anything for a minute or two, and Janice asked, “Mr. Gordon, are you still on the line?”

      “Yes. I shouldn’t give you unsolicited advice,” he said hesitantly, “but you shouldn’t go out there at all—especially alone.”

      Why was Lance Gordon so determined that she shouldn’t see her property? She didn’t want to suspect him of trying to keep her away from Stanton, but it did seem strange that he was taking such an interest in her affairs. Was he the one who’d sent the warning note to stay away from Stanton?

      “I don’t have much choice. My sister and I are homeless until I see the condition of the house.”

      “Then I’ll go with you.”

      It crossed Janice’s mind that she didn’t know much about Lance Gordon, even if he was a school principal. But she did dread exploring the place by herself. And though she couldn’t understand why he was befriending her, she thought she’d have to accept his help.

      Perhaps Lance sensed that she was considering his offer for he remained silent.

      “I am afraid to go alone,” she admitted. “I’d like to have your company.”

      “Good! And let me make a suggestion about Brooke. My sister is taking Taylor to the movies tomorrow afternoon, and Brooke can go with them. If she’s with Linda, we can go to Mountjoy and take all the time we need to look at your property. I’ll come by the motel about one o’clock to get you and Brooke.”

      “That’s all right with me, but maybe you’d better check it out with Taylor and your sister.”

      “Taylor has talked about Brooke most of the time since she met her. She’ll be excited to have her along.” He gave Janice his phone number, saying, “Call if you need to, but if not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Janice replaced the phone and a warm tenderness caressed a place in her heart that had been cold for years. She was accustomed to standing on her own two feet, not relying on anyone else. She’d thought she preferred it that way, but she suddenly realized how much simpler a problem seemed when someone shared it with her.

      She bounded off the bed, saying, “You’re in for a fun day tomorrow, Brooke.”

      When she explained about the planned visit with the Mallorys, Brooke grinned widely. “It’s nice to have friends.”

      “Sure is,” Janice said, and she picked up a brush and started combing Brooke’s long silken brown hair, a bedtime ritual they’d started when Brooke was a toddler.

      Lance wasn’t coming until one o’clock, and Janice had anticipated a leisurely morning, but the telephone beside her bed rang before seven. She pushed aside the covers and swung her feet to the floor when the motel clerk answered her hello.

      “Miss Reid, something terrible happened last night. I just arrived for work, and when I walked across the parking lot, I noticed that the tires are flat on your car. Looks like they’ve been slashed. Since the damage occurred on our property, I’ve called the police.”

      Janice’s hand shook as she replaced the phone. Stunned for a moment, she fell backward on the bed. This had to be another deliberate effort to drive her away from Stanton. Was it worth all of this drama to move to this town? She was tempted to return to Willow Creek as soon as her tires were repaired. Rallying, she hurried out of bed.

      The ringing phone hadn’t awakened Brooke, but after Janice hurried into jeans and a T-shirt and strapped on a pair of sandals, she shook Brooke’s shoulder gently. When she thought her sister was awake, Janice said, “I’m going downstairs for a while. Stay in bed until I come back. I’ll bring breakfast.”

      A police cruiser was parked behind her blue car when Janice rushed through the double doors of the motel and ran across the parking lot. The tires had been new when she’d bought the vehicle, but long punctures, presumably made with a knife, had destroyed them. As she viewed the vandalism, a myriad of emotions coursed through Janice’s mind.

      At first she was incredulous that such a thing had happened. Disbelief faded into fury. Fear replaced anger when she considered the ramifications of what had happened to her car. Would her enemies attempt physical attacks on Brooke or her now that she had moved to Stanton?

      Janice became aware that the chief of police stood beside her and she transferred her gaze to him.

      He tipped the brim of his gray felt hat. “Bill Goodman at your service, ma’am. The hotel clerk says this is your car.”

      She nodded, without speaking. Her throat was numb, and she swallowed with effort.

      “Who are you, ma’am?”

      “Janice Reid,” she stammered.

      The chief of police’s brows shot up in surprise. “Any relation to the Reids in this county?”

      “John Reid was my uncle.”

      “Aha!” he said, and his brown eyes brightened with sudden comprehension. “So you’re the one who inherited his estate?”

      “Yes. My father is his youngest brother. Although,” Janice added in a contemptuous tone, “I don’t go around bragging about it.”

      “Do you know any of your relatives in these parts?”

      She shook her head. “I don’t remember ever being here until I came last week.”

      “Where’s your pa?”

      “In prison somewhere. I haven’t heard from him for years.”

      The officer fingered his mustache as he walked around her car. A few inches shorter than Janice, Chief Goodman was probably in his late fifties, and there was a slight stoop to his shoulders. His neat brown uniform failed to provide him with an impressive appearance.

      “I’ll have to inspect the car before you can have the tires replaced,” he said. “Do you need the car today?”

      “No. Can you recommend a garage to repair the damage?”

      “There’s a tire store in town that will give you a good price if you can wait until Monday. They’re closed on Saturday afternoons and Sunday.”

      “I can wait until then, I guess. I’ll be taking my little sister to school on Monday, but we can walk there.”

      “You’re planning to live in Stanton?”

      “Yes,” and motioning to her car, she added, “but it seems I’m being warned to leave.”

      The cop’s eyes twinkled with admiration. “You’re a sharp lady!”

      “What else can I think? I’ve looked around and no other cars in the lot have been touched. I don’t think it’s a random act of violence. This was deliberate and planned.”

      “I’m sorry it happened to you.”

      The chief got in the cruiser and drove away. Janice walked slowly into the motel and picked up some rolls and juice in the lobby. Unwilling to ruin Brooke’s pleasure in the day, she didn’t mention the vandalism.

      Lance Gordon lived in a two-story stone house in a subdivision located on a plateau north of Stanton, about five miles from the center of town. Driving from the motel to his home, he explained, “I’d just built this house five years ago when Linda got her divorce and she moved in with me. I turned over the