Christmas Confessions. Kathleen Long

he muttered beneath his breath.

      “No postmark,” Abby added. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

      “I don’t suppose the idea of contacting the authorities ever crossed your mind?”

      The detective’s dark gaze lifted to hers, and for a brief moment Abby saw far more than an officer of the law out to solve a cold case. She saw the heat of emotion, the hint of…what?

      The dark gaze shuttered and dropped before she had a chance to study the detective further.

      Abby pulled herself taller. “As a matter of fact, I took the card to the local police, who said there’s no indication this woman is a victim of a violent crime.”

      “And they knew this how?”

      Abby opened her mouth to speak, then realized the detective was right. A chill slid down her spine.

      “You’re here because you think differently?”

      He nodded as he pulled a folder from his briefcase.

      Abby held her breath as Jack Grant carefully extracted a single photograph from the thick file. A black-and-white portrait of a young, dark-haired woman.

      The shot might be different, but the subject was the same.

      The girl from Abby’s anonymous postcard.

      “Her name was Melinda Simmons.” The detective placed the photograph on Abby’s desk and slid it toward her.

      Her name was Melinda Simmons.

      The implication of the detective’s phrasing sent Abby’s insides tumbling end over end.

      “Was?” she asked.

      “Missing and presumed dead,” he answered.

      Abby thought about the card and its one-line message.

       I didn’t mean to kill her.

      “You’re going to tell me you honestly believe a murderer sent us that card?” Her heart rapped so loudly against her rib cage she was sure the detective could hear the sound, yet she concentrated on maintaining her composure.

      “Someone did. And I want to know who and why.”

      “Maybe you sent the card, Detective.” Abby knew she was out of line, but the detective’s holier-than-thou attitude had gotten under her skin. “How do we know you didn’t decide to get creative in drawing attention to one of your cold cases?”

      Jack Grant smiled, the expression even more unnerving than his scowl. “You can think whatever you want, Ms. Conroy, as long as I have your word you’ll notify me when another card arrives.”

      Abby blinked. “Another card?”

      Detective Grant nodded, handing her a business card before he zipped up his leather jacket. “If this is the guy I think it is, he likes Christmas, and he likes attention. And apparently he’s picked you as his target for this year’s holiday cheer.”

      Abby took the card, staring down at the contact information, complete with cell number. “How long will you be in town?”

      “Long as it takes.” Grant moved quickly back toward the lobby.

      “What if he doesn’t send a second card?” Abby winced at her suddenly tight voice.

      “He will.” Detective Grant gave a curt wave over his shoulder. “He will.”

Chapter Two

      Abby slowed as she rounded the corner in front of her townhouse. Dwayne Franklin stood stringing tiny white Christmas lights along the hedges that framed her front window.

      “Oh, Dwayne. I told you we could skip that this year. It’s too much work.”

      Her next-door neighbor pivoted at the sound of her voice, moving so sharply he lost his balance and stumbled, catching himself against the window frame.

      Abby reached for his arm and he straightened, anchoring his hands on her elbows and squeezing tight. Too tight.

      She swallowed down the nervousness her neighbor inspired, knowing she was being ridiculous.

      He was as harmless as a fly. A man who’d been down on his luck for as long as she could remember, and a man who’d been a good neighbor to her for as long as she’d lived on the quiet city street.

      “How about some coffee?” she asked.

      “I’ll be right in after I finish,” he said with a smile.

      Abby stepped back and admired his work. The twinkling strands did wonders for the front of her house. But then, Dwayne kept up her property as if it were his own—cutting her small patch of lawn in the summer, weeding her garden in the spring, and now stringing holiday lights before Christmas.

      “I’ll leave the door unlocked,” Abby called as she headed around the side of the house toward the entrance to her townhouse.

      “You have to admit there’s nothing like holiday cheer.”

      Dwayne’s words did nothing to warm her, instead reigniting the chill she’d felt ever since Detective Jack Grant’s visit.

       Holiday cheer.

      The detective had seemed sure whoever had sent the Melinda Simmons postcard would strike again.

      That holiday cheer, Abby could do without.

      The temperature inside her living room seemed overly warm as Abby stepped indoors. She adjusted the thermostat, shrugged off her coat and tossed it over the arm of the overstuffed chair that had once been her grandmother’s. She’d love nothing more than to pour herself a cup of coffee and curl up with a good book, but Dwayne would no doubt dawdle and Abby would end up cooking them both dinner.

      Oh, well, she thought as she headed toward the kitchen. There was no harm in letting the man spend time at her house.

      He was lonely, and he’d proved to be a good neighbor time and time again. Plus, she had nowhere better to be.

      Abby worried occasionally that Dwayne wanted something more in terms of a relationship, but he’d never so much as tried to kiss her. She probably had nothing to worry about. Matter of fact, she ought to check her ego.

      A framed photograph captured her gaze as she flipped on the kitchen light, and she plucked the picture from the counter.

      In it, she and two friends stood in front of a series of paintings. Abby’s first gallery show. At the time, Abby’s specialty had been landscapes, her work recreating what she considered the most beautiful canvas of all—nature. But in the years since, Abby had found her time spent creating murals to be more lucrative. Enough so that she could afford to run the confession site on the side.

      She refocused on the photo, the faces. Gina and Vicki had been by her side during every moment of her career, just as they’d been by her side during every moment of her life from first grade forward.

      Until last year.

      Until Christmas Eve when Abby had let a call from Vicki go unanswered and she and Gina had found Vicki’s body the next morning.

      Suicide by hanging.

      Her heart squeezed at the memory, the image burned into her mind’s eye as if she stood there now, filled with horror and disbelief. Filled with shame and guilt that she might have been able to stop her friend from doing the unthinkable if she’d only answered the damn phone.

      She’d vowed to never again make that same mistake. And then she’d founded Don’t Say a Word.

      “All done.”

      Dwayne’s voice startled her,