Black Creek Burning (The Black Creek Series, Book 1) (6 page)

He stood back, remembering each tool he'd used to make the distressed marks on their
oak furniture. Chains, hammer and chisel. The stain pooled perfectly into the marks,
giving the wood a mood of comfort and age.

By nightfall Nathan's hands were filled with nicks. He was sore and tired, and he
wouldn't have traded it for anything. Duncan and Andy talked him into making a fort
using extra blankets over the mattresses they slept on. With Goldie already belly
up at their feet, he zipped the boys in their sleeping bags as he looked out the back
window.

He noticed a fire pit blazing on the patio in Brie's backyard. What the hell? In December?
He couldn't help himself. He dug out some binoculars from his still unpacked suitcase.
This wasn't like being a peeping Tom, he assured himself. He would have to be looking
in her bedroom windows to be a peeping Tom. This was neighborly curiosity.

She'd scooped out snow all around her. Her dog sat at her side, looking comfortable
in the frigid night. She read a book using a book light that hooked to the top of
a page. Very interesting, he thought. Very damn interesting.

* * *

The Novicks would be home from their cruise on Christmas Eve. They expected her to
have their outside lights up on their return. Brie couldn't put it off any longer.
Her side jobs brought in good money. She'd almost saved enough to buy the living room
furniture Liz was always hounding her about, but she really had her eyes set on a
shiny new Jeep Wrangler. Regardless, it was the only house left on her list to decorate,
and the forecast was for snow that night. The Novicks would come home to a beautifully
lit home with a fresh coat of snow covering her tracks and the lights.

Taking off her fleece jacket from her morning run, she walked to the kitchen to brew
some coffee before heading out. Her feet stopped before the rest of her. She stuck
her arms out to catch her balance and then rocked back on her heels. Her hands went
instinctively to her hips as she looked through the glass of the back door at the
bloody, mutilated animal strung on her deck rail.

Chapter 5

"Oh, hell. Not this again," Brie said out loud. Who had nothing better to do than
leave ripped up animals around people's homes?

She grabbed two plastic grocery sacks, doubled them as one and snatched up a hand
shovel. Without bothering to put on a coat, she walked out to the deck and tried to
scoop the thing into the bags. Rabbit. The slash from mouth to tail caused its insides
to protrude from its belly. She fumbled it and watched as it tipped over the side
of the rail on the five-foot-high deck onto the snowy yard. Storming down the stairs,
she marched around to the carcass. Finally maneuvering it in the bag, she tied it
and stomped with an outstretched arm to the garage.

* * *

A figure stood anxiously between houses, waiting in the cold to watch Brie's reaction.
To see fear from the arrogant bitch. To see her distress, maybe some sobbing or running
to big sister for help.

Instead, there was a bit of frustration and a quick, efficient clean up. Clenched
fists caused white knuckles. Cutting up the rabbit had been exciting. The thought
of Brie finding it was arousing. Now, there was only disappointment.

"Low-class slut. I will find what makes you snap. I have all the time in the world."

* * *

Carrying a load of rotted boards to the dumpster, Nathan slowed down as he noticed
someone arranging outdoor Christmas lights across the street. As he tossed the boards
into the huge metal box, he recognized the light blue coat, the matching hat and the
brown hair falling out the back. She hadn't tied it in a tail today. He wanted to
walk up behind her and pull off her hat to see what all that wavy hair looked like
falling around her shoulders. Instead he made it to nearly the foot of her ladder
without her noticing.

"Is this a prank?"

She jerked and nearly fell off the ladder. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it's
not nice to sneak up on people like that?"

"No. My mother was mostly the one doing the sneaking. What are you doing?"

She kept working. "Putting up Christmas lights."

"I can see that. Why isn't whomever you live with putting them up for you?"

"I'm going to ignore the chauvinist comment. If you know what I'm doing, why did you
ask? And I live alone."

So, this wasn't going to be simple. Hmm. Walk away? He considered. Or stay and poke.
Poking was much more fun. "Because I find it strange to put up decorations two days
before a holiday when the rest of the world generally does it weeks before. Oh yes,
and there is the whole
This isn't your house
question."

She took an exaggerated deep breath and turned. "This is what I do. The home belongs
to the Novicks. Nice neighbors. You'll like them. Recently retired. Travel a lot,
but friendly people. They, as have several people of the good town of Northridge,
hired me to put these up. Since they don't return from their cruise until tomorrow,
I saw no reason to do this any sooner."

She does cranky well, he thought.

"And I'm sorry for being rude. I've had a bad morning."

Interesting again. Cranky, but interesting. "No problem. Want some bad morning coffee?
I've got some fresh in my kitchen. Well, actually in my mudroom that is my kitchen
right now, but the coffee's good."

She turned away from him and continued working. "I've been curious why a man would
move his family into that old place. Picturing your kitchen stuffed into a mudroom
makes me curious enough to ask."

When she reached the end of a light strand, he absently handed her another. "Several
reasons. Mostly to be closer to my folks."

"Aren't there nicer homes closer to your folks?" She winced. "Sorry. That, too, was
rude. You don't have to answer that. I really should just finish up here."

"There are nicer homes, but I would just tear them up anyway. I like a house done
my way. And I work a lot in the garage. Can't beat the garage on that old house. Come
by some time for that coffee. I'll show you around."

She turned to say something not quite so curt, but he was already walking that swagger
of his back up his drive.

* * *

It was cold enough overnight to make the snowfall light and dry. Brie had been right;
it coated everything with a fresh blanket of white, including her tracks in the Novicks'
yard. Waking, she gave a long sigh at the thought that it was Christmas Eve. She stuck
another pillow under her head, propping herself up enough to pretend like she was
at least starting to become vertical.

She looked around the enormous room and remembered when it belonged to her parents—passed
down to them from their parents. It had been filled with antique furniture that was
covered with knick knacks and different sized photos in frames that didn't match.
The walls had striped wallpaper along the bottom, a wooden chair rail and a floral
pattern covering the upper section.

She thought of when she would bounce into the room and nose herself between the two
of them early on Christmas Eve, trying to convince them to allow the opening of presents
a day early. Her father worked as a home builder and rarely had days off. Yet, he
would patiently explain she would find only coal in any opened-early gifts.

She sat up and crisscrossed her legs. That room was gone. The furnishings and keepsakes
had all been scorched as well as most everything throughout this side of the house.
Pulling herself up, she went to look out her back window.

The spectacular blanket of snow shone in the moonlight in the still dark, morning
air. She decided to use her snowshoes and take Macey for a walk. Afterward, she would
take a hot bath and read a book. The dog slept curled in a ball in the corner of the
room. She gave her a little nudge.

"Come on, girl."

Macey recognized what the tone meant. She stood, stretching her legs and arching her
back.

She was five minutes from making it out the back door when the phone rang. She piled
on thermal wear and extra socks as she answered it, then rolled her eyes.

She knew Liz hated that she insisted on being alone on Christmas Eve.

"I knew you'd be up. One o 'clock tomorrow, and bring Macey. My kids won't forgive
me if I didn't remind you to bring her."

"I'll remember, and stop worrying about me. Macey and I have plans."

"You should be with family on Christmas Eve."

"Sounds like a greeting card." She held the phone between her head and shoulder while
lacing her boots.

"Okay, but you know our door is open."

"I know and I love you. See you tomorrow." She zipped her coat and lifted her snowshoes
from the hook in the mudroom. Macey would do without a leash this morning.

* * *

Nathan stood at his bedroom window sipping coffee. The boys were still sleeping as
was their dog that lay at the foot of Duncan's mattress, belly up, legs in the air.
As usual, Andy had moved to Duncan's mattress sometime in the night. And as usual,
Duncan moved over for him.

The sun was just beginning to expose the homes, the trees and the lake that was covered
in a blanket of white. Nathan noticed something moving in the light of dawn. He recognized
the dog. The coat. The hat. He wondered what she was doing out at this hour. Were
those snowshoes? He shook his head as he thought she looked like a postcard walking
in the endless snow along the creek that sprouted tall pieces of white-topped brown
from the plants that lay dormant. Her dog buried its nose in the snow, looking for
something that must be waking from the night—or possibly just nestling in. He grinned
and turned to make his way down for breakfast. He and his nephews would spend the
day at his folks as they did every year. Only this time, they'd arrive by car instead
of plane.

* * *

The world seemed to finally slow to a peaceful pace when the Christmas rush ended.
Brie still had a few days before the first of the year when she would need to start
taking down all the lights she had put up. She scooped up the paper off her front
porch and toed off her shoes from her morning run. Walking into her kitchen, she headed
for the coffee grinder before noticing the new neighbor's dog wandering in her backyard.

Macey snarled and pressed her nose against the glass of the doors that led to the
deck. Her fur stood straight on the back of her neck. Goldie jerked his head when
he heard her and began wagging his tail furiously, tumbling up the snowy steps of
the deck. Macey's snarl turned into frustrated barking. This time the yellow Lab seemed
clueless to Macey's warning and started whimpering like he'd found a long lost friend.
She couldn't help but laugh. She gave Macey the command to stand down and opened the
door.

She hadn't considered how Goldie might have gotten over to her place until the dog
bounded into her kitchen with sloppy, muddy feet that must have trudged through Black
Creek. Macey, the traitor, started whining with Goldie and nuzzled noses. As they
circled each other the Lab spread black prints over her ceramic floor.

She pressed her hands on top of her head and tried, "No. Down. Lay. Stop!" Both dogs
ignored her and continued their circling and sniffing around the kitchen island. She
stomped to the mudroom to pull down Macey's leash and slipped on her boots. Grabbing
her light blue coat, she headed back to the kitchen. The dogs had moved their reunion
to the family room, trailing footprints of mud all over her carpet.

"Stupid, stupid dogs. Idiot man."

The dogs sensed the fun was over as the leash clicked on Goldie's collar. She faced
Macey, held her arm out, elbow locked and pointed toward the mudroom. The dog's tail
went between her legs and her ears lay back as she slumped obediently to her rug.
Goldie tried to follow, but Brie maintained a good hold on him.

She went out the door the mongrel had entered; the door she had so generously opened
for him. Together, they stomped through the shin-deep snow of her backyard and along
the creek's floodplain. When Goldie tried to bolt for the water, she gave the leash
short, quick jerks to bring him back to her side. By the time they reached the road
and started over the bridge, she couldn't help but be impressed with how quickly he
was learning to heel. She scratched his head as they walked. It wasn't the dog's fault
his owner couldn't keep an eye on him. As they rounded the corner, she had to work
a little to get her mad back up again.