A Cold Christmas Read Free Page B

Kansas Power and Light.
    After she explained a second time, a female voice promised someone would be there within an hour.
    â€œHour? We’ll be on the way to mummified in an hour.”
    â€œI’ll put a rush on it.”
    Caley disconnected and called another number, relieved when the phone was answered. “Ettie, would you take the children for a while? The furnace isn’t working.”
    â€œOf course. I’ll be right there.”
    Caley had the Littles and Zach, their breaths steaming in the cold air, waiting on the kitchen porch when their grandmother drove up. She bundled them into the car and waved as they drove away.
    Feverish, shaking, coughing, aching in every joint, she switched on the outside light over the garage door and waited in her car for KP and L—or for the house to blow up, whichever came first.
    Before either of those things happened, headlights poked up the driveway, a van parked in the circle of light outside the garage, and the repairman got out.
    She scooted from the car and went to meet him. Shaking in the cold, she ran up the porch steps, opened the kitchen door, and let him in.
    He smiled a creepy little smile that froze her hand as she reached to close the door behind them.

2
    Time ticked by on long seconds. His blank eyes watched her, knowing her fear, amused by it. The kitchen seemed too bright, the ceiling light shined down on bowls of soggy cereal in puddles of milk, a loaf of bread spilling out slices, and a jar of peanut butter with a knife stuck in it. Blobs of red splattered the tablecloth. Clumps of strawberry jam, she assumed, not a foreshadowing of gory smears from her body after he hacked her up with a carving knife.
    Distant music and singing: “She cut off their tails with a carving knife.”
    â€œMs. James?”
    She squeezed her eyes shut, blinked.
    â€œYou all right?”
    â€œFine.” She calculated how fast she could get to the door before he grabbed her.
    â€œYou seem a little upset. Would you like me to leave?”
    Leave? With the furnace roaring away burning expensive gas, and the house like Hades even with the windows open?
    â€œI’ll call a doctor,” he said, voice bland, nothing in his eyes.
    â€œNo. No, I’m fine.”
    â€œYou sure? You look a little frail.”
    â€œSure. Yes.”
    â€œWell—” He waited a moment. “I’ll go take care of the furnace, then.”
    â€œYes.” She was losing it. As bad as Bonnie with her fairy-tale imagination. Caley slumped in a chair, put her elbows on the table, and propped her head in her hands.
    She could hear banging, followed by ominous silences. Her head throbbed like a jungle drum, and she envisioned him dancing, half-naked, skin glistening, around the furnace. Oh, Lord. She tracked down the Advil, tried to shake two capsules into her palm, and half the bottle came out. She dumped the handful on the table, isolated two, and gulped them down with somebody’s leftover orange juice. She grimaced at the bitter taste.
    When the doorbell rang, she jumped, sloshing juice over her hand. “Damn.” Get a grip. She rinsed her hand in the sink, ripped off a paper towel, and headed for the living room.
    Pulling aside the disintegrating lace curtain over the half-moon of window in the door, she saw her ex-husband on the porch, the light shining on his curly hair. Tall, blond, and handsome, looking like he’d just come in from the range in his fleece-lined suede jacket, ankle boots, and tight-fitting jeans. He didn’t look any different than he had three months ago when she’d thrown him out, taking on this derelict house herself with three kids and no money.
    She jerked open the door.
    â€œHi, Cal.” Big smile. He stepped forward to come in. She blocked his way.
    His smile turned to hurt. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
    â€œI can’t even remember when I was last glad to see you. What do you