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  “I’m fine.” Gia swallowed hard. “Besides, I’m the big sister. I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you.”

  “You worry too much,” Carly murmured.

  “I can’t afford not to,” Gia said. The faces of nine dead women haunted her at night and during every waking hour. Her stomach knotted at the idea of another.

  If the Christmas Killer stuck to his schedule, three more women would lose their lives before Christmas.

  She had less than a week to find him.

  The question was—where would he go next?

  Chapter Three

  8 p.m., December 18, Tinley, Nebraska

  He sat outside Tinley’s holiday shop, painful memories assaulting him as he watched families browse the aisles for gifts and decoration. White lights twinkled along the exterior of the storefront, which was covered with bows, wreaths and garland.

  Through the front picture window, colorful ornaments glittered on the giant tree that occupied the center of the store. A train reminiscent of the Polar Express wound around the base where pretty boxes tied with bright ribbons and bows were stacked, as if symbolizing the joy of Christmas morning.

  Collectible Santas, angels and snowmen filled the shelves along with dozens of kinds of ornaments. The back corner housed a toy center with books, puzzles, games and other kid-friendly gift items and was occupied now with squealing children pointing out the presents they wanted.

  Once upon a time he’d been just like those innocent little kids. Happy and delighted by the yuletide season. He’d dreamt of waking up to find toy trucks and a shiny red fire engine when he was five. At seven, he’d lusted after a blue bike he’d seen in a store window.

  The song “The Twelve Days of Christmas” chimed in his head, a reminder of the game his mother used to play. Each day for twelve days she wrapped a small surprise for him to open.

  But when he was ten, the game suddenly stopped on day twelve. “On the twelfth day of Christmas, my mother abandoned me…”

  Then his old man had turned his fists on him.

  Anger balled inside him at the memory. After a teacher discovered his bruises, he’d been shipped to foster care.

  That had been hell, too.

  Later, at the community college, he’d met Mary Jo and thought he’d have a family once again.

  Only last year three weeks before Christmas, she’d walked out on him, too.

  A blustery wind suddenly picked up outside, battering the garland dangling between the light posts. The traffic light, the only one in the Podunk town, swung back and forth with the force as if it might snap off any second.

  A damn storm was brewing, just like the weather forecasters had predicted. He hunched deeper into his coat, hating the cold and snow.

  If the blizzard struck as expected, it could complicate things.

  No…he’d fulfill his mission. He couldn’t let Gia down. She was expecting him to make his next move. She just had no idea where he was, or who he planned to grace with the next three ornaments.

  The last of the customers left the store, battling wind as they burrowed into their winter coats and ran to their cars. Snow had already started to fall, coating the street and rooftop in a thin layer of white.

  Although signs advertising Tinsel Town’s Christmas Festival adorned every streetlamp, with the storm bearing down, the shops were closing early and the streets emptying.

  He opened the door to his rental truck, glanced around the street for any stragglers, then decided the area was clear. He searched for security cameras but didn’t find any. Lucky him.

  But it also seemed odd. It was as if he’d walked back in time when people trusted each other.

  Fools.

  No one could be trusted.

  A bell tinkled above the door as he entered the store. The scent of holiday candles and potpourri wafted toward him. Nauseating.

  Gia’s sister, Carly, stood behind the counter wearing a bright red Christmas sweater emblazoned with a glittery white snowman. She was bent over, locking the glass cabinet below the counter which held what appeared to be expensive jewelry. Gifts the husbands would rush in to purchase at the last minute when they did their holiday shopping.

  Just like he’d done for Mary Jo.

  Carly’s pale blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail with a bright green ribbon tied around the silky looking strands. They reminded him of corn silk and made his fingers itch to dig into the thick waves.

  “Hi, Sir. Welcome to Happy Holidays!” Carly walked toward him with a friendly smile. “I’m afraid I’m closing in five minutes. Are you looking for something specific? A gift for a lady friend?”

  Not exactly. He’d already purchased his gifts. He was just here to choose the recipients.

  His lips curled into what he hoped was a charming smile.

  “Or if you need more time, you can come back tomorrow and browse,” Carly chirped. “I’ll be open at ten.”

  He stepped closer to her and inhaled the scent of lavender. “I know exactly what I want. It won’t take a minute to get it.” A second later, he wrapped his arm around her neck and dragged her kicking and screaming toward the rear exit of the store.

  Chapter Four

  10:00 p.m., December 18, Gulf Shores Alabama

  Gia pounded her pillow in frustration. She hadn’t slept in two days. But even exhausted, sleep eluded her.

  The screams of the dead girls echoed in her ears.

  When she closed her eyes, their beautiful gazes, frozen in the shock of death, stared back at her.

  She had to stop this madness before he reached a dozen. He could disappear. Or start over again next year.

  Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she snatched it, hoping again for a tip. Carly again.

  The last thing she felt like doing was arguing with her sister tonight. She’d thought they had the holiday visit settled. It was just too hard for her to go back to that house. To the bedroom where she’d grown up. To the pictures on the mantle when they were together.

  She rolled over and punched the pillow again. But the phone continued to ring. Battling anger and fatigue, she snatched it and connected the call. Before she could speak, a low wail echoed over the line.

  “Help me, Gia...please help me!”

  “Carly –”

  Cold terror swept over Gia as the phone line died in her hand.

  * * *

  10:10 p.m., December 18, Tinley, Nebraska

  Sheriff Murphy Malone watched the weather report with a growing pit of anxiety in his stomach. With several people already dead in two states from this damn freak blizzard barreling through the Midwest, his town had to be ready.

  The media had already warned everyone to stay inside, to stock up, to be prepared to be holed up for days in their houses. Being outside in sub-zero temperatures was not only dangerous.

  But also deadly.

  He didn’t want any casualties in Tinley.

  Of course, residents were up in arms over having to cancel the holiday festival plans that generated much needed revenue for the fledgling farm community, but it couldn’t be helped. Still, dozens of tourists had arrived early and had filled the local inn and cottages on the creek.

  The grocery store aisles were practically empty, the hardware store packed with folks buying batteries, searching for space heaters and back-up generators, and other emergency supplies. Larry’s Liquor Store had lines out the door.

  The weather forecast ended, and a recap of a morning news clip from Gulf Shores, Alabama came on air. He’d already seen it, but he watched it once more just because Tinley’s own Gia Franklin was the one talking, and he’d always had a thing for her.

  They’d even dated a few times in high school, but Gia had made it clear she wanted more than what small-town life had to offer. He’d been tempted to ask her to stay.

  But that wouldn’t have been fair. Hell, he’d cared too much to expect her to stifle her dreams and live in Tinley.

  And he could never leave.
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  She’d probably found the excitement she craved with the FBI. Although at the moment, despite her striking beauty, she looked more distressed than anything else.

  With nine women dead at the hands of one madman, he could understand why. God help them all.

  He flipped off the TV, his body tense. Stories like that got to him.

  Murder was not the kind of news people should be hearing at Christmas. Good will and cheer and lending a helping hand to your neighbor—that's what the holidays were about.

  And the reason he hadn’t left the town for the big city and a better paying job.

  That and his mother.

  God help her, too.

  Once upon a time she’d loved the season and had visited the nursing homes to sing carols and pass out warm socks and handmade blankets so those without families wouldn’t feel forgotten.

  Now she was sitting in an assisted living facility, hardly able to get around, and her memory was slipping.

  Pain squeezed his heart, but he inhaled a deep breath.

  As much as it hurt to see her health failing, abandoning her would be worse.

  He snapped on his holster and gun, then grabbed his coat and gloves. He’d drive by town and conduct rounds, make sure everyone was tucked in safe for the night.

  Tomorrow he’d stop by and take his mother her favorite cookies. He just hoped she hadn’t forgotten that she liked chocolate chip.

  * * *

  10:08 p.m., December 18, Gulf Shores, Alabama

  Carly’s cry taunted Gia as she jumped from bed and stabbed her sister’s number. The phone rang once, then twice.

  Then a voice answered. “You want me, Gia. Come and find me.”

  Sheer terror knifed through her as the phone went dead again. Dear God…was it him? The Christmas Killer?

  Did he have her sister?

  No, he’d just killed here in Gulf Shores the night before. He couldn’t be in Nebraska…

  Unless he’d left town right after he’d posed the last body.

  Tears blinded her, and she paced the bedroom and punched the number again. This time it rolled to voice mail. “Listen to me, you creep, you touch one hair on my sister’s head, and you are dead. Do you hear me? No jail. I will make you suffer then I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

  She hit disconnect, her mind racing. Denial seized her. He couldn’t have her sweet sister. Carly had never done anything to hurt anybody. She loved Christmas and puppies and babies. She wanted to get married and have a family.

  She asked you to come home for the holidays and you told her no.

  Gia clutched the wall as her legs buckled. The room blurred.

  You can’t pass out. You have to get to Carly. She needs you.

  He said for you to come and get him. He’d taunted her. Maybe he hadn’t hurt her sister yet. Maybe there was time…

  She latched onto that sliver of hope and raced to her computer. She accessed flight information, searching for the first available flight to Nebraska.

  While she waited on the information, she found the phone number for the sheriff’s department in Tinley. Her hand trembled as she called the number.

  A man’s deep gruff voice answered. “Sheriff Murphy Malone.”

  “Murphy this is Gia Franklin, I’m working a serial killer case.”

  “I know. I saw the earlier press conference.”

  She was surprised he’d seen it in the small town. But it was national news. Less explaining to do. “Listen to me. It’s about the case. And Carly.”

  His breath rattled out. “Carly? What’s going on?”

  A sob caught in her throat, but she swallowed it back. She’d have time to fall apart later. “I just got a call from her begging for help. Then the phone died. When I called back, a man answered.” Her voice cracked. “You have to help me, Murph. He—I think the Christmas Killer has Carly.”

  * * *

  10:15 p.m., December 18, Tinley

  Murphy’s heart hammered. “I thought he was in Alabama, that he just struck in the South.”

  “Time of death for the woman was last night,” Gia said. “He could have flown out after he murdered his last victim.”

  Number nine. Judging from this sicko’s MO, there would be three more.

  In his city?

  No. Hell, no. Tinley was all neighbors and Midwestern hospitality.

  Gia had to be mistaken. “Did he identify himself as the Christmas Killer?”

  “Not exactly, but he said, ‘You want me. Come and get me.’” She hissed. “He was watching the press conference.”

  “It could be a prank. You know tip lines bring out crazies and false leads and—”

  “The call came to my personal cell number directly from Carly’s phone. I heard her voice.” Gia’s tone sharpened. “She’s in trouble.”

  Murphy raked a hand through his hair, then snagged his keys and headed to the door. “All right. Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “I’m on the first flight I can get,” she said. “But it will take me hours to reach Tinley. I need you to go to Carly’s house and see if she’s there. And the shop…Check both of them.”

  “I’m on the way out the door now,” Murphy said. “I’ll canvas both places and look around town then call you back.”

  A flurry of commotion sounded in the background, and he assumed she was packing and getting dressed. Gia was right. It would take hours for her to get here.

  If she made it. With the weather turning ugly, the airport might even shut down. Flights across the country had already been canceled in staggering numbers. People were stranded in Montana and Colorado with no quick end in sight, causing a domino effect across the states.

  “A blizzard is expected to strike Nebraska, with heavy snowfall starting in the morning. If you don’t make it—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make it,” she snapped. “Now get over to my sister’s house. I’m headed to the airport.”

  She sounded panicked. Desperate. Not at all the calm agent she presented in front of the camera. This case had to be wearing her down. The whole country had been following this madman’s rampage. “I can call ahead and book you a rental car at the airport,” he offered as he slid into his squad car and started the engine.

  “No, I’ll do it,” she said, her tone even sharper this time. “Just find Carly.”

  Murphy flipped on the siren as she ended the call, his pulse jumping. What if she was right and the Christmas Killer had come to Tinley?

  He veered down the side street leading out to the Franklin house. Carly had not only taken over running Beverly Franklin’s store, but she’d moved into the family homestead, a rambling old white farmhouse that sat on the edge of the town.

  Mrs. Franklin had been vibrant and friendly and volunteered for every festival and event that Tinley boasted. At the first town meeting he’d attended after he had to put his mother into a memory care home, he’d admitted he didn’t plan on decorating for the holiday, so she’d brought over Christmas decorations and a tree from the Boy Scout lot and personally trimmed it herself. Her holiday cheer and enthusiasm for the parade and festivities had hacked away at his bah humbug attitude.

  Carly reminded him of her mother. Gia…Special Agent Franklin…was a different story though. She had been away at the academy when he’d been elected sheriff. When Beverly had suddenly died of a heart attack, she’d rushed home for the funeral.

  The moment he’d seen her, he’d been drawn to her again. Had wondered things had been different, if she might stay. Want him.

  He’d itched to console her, but she’d been in shock and grief stricken. And for all he’d known, she had a boyfriend or lover waiting on her where she lived.

  Shortly after the funeral, she’d hopped a plane out of town and had never been back. He’d heard Carly talk about missing Gia at the holidays and wondered how Gia could just abandon her sister.

  Although judging from the fear in Gia’s voice, it wasn’t because she didn’t love Carly.
/>   Siren wailing, he sped as fast as the already icy roads allowed, hoping the meteorologists had it wrong this time. The snowfall was light now, only a couple of inches of accumulation, although the wind was roaring like a lion, and the temperature had already dropped to the teens.

  A blizzard would cause all kind of mayhem for tourists traveling to Tinley. Some of the small businesses depended on the revenue from the festival to make it through the year financially.

  At least most everyone had chosen to stay in tonight and traffic was minimal. Seconds later, he veered into the drive for the Franklin house, his brakes screeching.

  He cut the engine and scanned the property. Except for a lone light burning in a back room, the house was pitched in darkness.

  Keeping in mind that a serial killer might be in there holding Carly hostage, he removed his weapon from his holster and checked it before he inched up to the house. A wrap-around porch boasted a swing and porch rockers, making the house look inviting, like a post card.

  But a killer might be lying in wait.

  He considered calling for back-up, but there wasn’t time. Carly might be in danger.

  Slowly he eased up the steps, then peered through the front windows. The curtains were slightly ajar, offering him a view of a living room and kitchen. Both appeared empty.

  No movement that he detected.

  The wind rattled a loose shutter, and he jerked his head to the side to check the noise. But he didn’t see anyone.

  Murphy prowled slowly toward the window to the right and looked inside. Again, no movement or sign anyone was inside.

  Praying Gia was wrong, and they were dealing with a prank caller, he knocked on the door. “Carly? Are you home?” He held his breath as he waited.

  No answer.

  A tree limb cracked and banged the side of the house. He scanned the property. Again nothing.

  Senses honed, he opened the screened door then turned the doorknob. Locked.