O’Neal’s nostrils flared. “So you want me to lie?”
“No . . . just selectively forget. Make the elves take back everything they stole—that should placate the victims, right? Just make it go away. Oh, and you don’t need to tell my mom about my coming here, either. Or else . . .” She rocked the phone back and forth in the air, the photo of O’Neal in his Stripper Santa outfit still on the screen.
O’Neal stared off into the parking lot, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Emily’s heart thudded against her ribs, wondering what she’d gotten into—she was basically blackmailing a cop. She glanced around the parking lot, suddenly certain someone was watching. A shadow fluttered behind one of the parked cruisers. The tiniest sigh sounded from next to a row of dumpsters.
“Fine.” O’Neal threw up his hands. “I suppose I can make that happen.” He shook a finger in Emily’s face. “But if anything else goes missing in Rosewood—even something as small as a lightbulb from an outdoor lighting arrangement—I’m coming to you for answers, got it? And I’m telling your mother everything.”
“Understood,” Emily said.
She held out her hand, and O’Neal shook it. Just before he went back inside, she called out, “One more thing. Don’t tell the elves I negotiated their release.”
O’Neal raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you want them to thank you? They’re rich girls. They could probably buy you an amazing present.”
Emily stared off at the dusting of snow that now covered the parking lot. An amazing present wasn’t the same as being part of the elves’ clique . . . and she would never be welcome in their group again. In their eyes, she would always be a traitor, a girl they didn’t want to know. This could just be her anonymous Christmas gift to them—her way to make up for what she did. She shook her head.
O’Neal slipped back inside. Emily stood by the window and watched him traverse the lobby, pull a couple of papers from his desk, tear them up, and shoot them through the large shredder in the corner of the room. After he was finished, he ambled over to a holding cell and tapped on the bars. Four figures appeared. Cassie, Lola, Heather, and Sophie were still wearing the thick down coats they’d had on at the country club. Their hair was matted, and their eyes and noses were red as though they’d been crying.
The snow was making a fine layer on Emily’s eyelashes, but she didn’t blink, not wanting to miss a moment. O’Neal said a few words to the girls, then fished in his pocket for a set of keys. He opened the jail cell and stood aside so the girls could file out. They stared at him skeptically, and then smiles bloomed on their faces. But for once, the smiles weren’t wry or self-assured or mischievous. They were smiles of gratitude. Relief.
Emily backed away from the window, feeling like everything was right with the world again. She slid silently into her car, started the engine, and reversed out of the parking space. By the time O’Neal escorted the elves to a cruiser in the parking lot, Emily was long gone—they would never know it was her who set them free. But their grateful smiles were reward enough.
Chapter 16
The Whole World Was at Peace
The following afternoon, Emily was in the kitchen, rolling out a long log of flour to make Christmas sugar cookies. It was her favorite Christmas tradition, mostly because she loved licking the sugary frosting off the beaters. This was the first available time she had to do it—playing Santa had taken up a lot of her time. Mrs. Meriwether had called this morning, though, and said that Emily no longer had to report to Santa Land for duty—she had found a suitable Santa replacement and was letting Emily off as a thank-you.
Emily was surprised to realize she was disappointed to not be going back. She’d ended up really enjoying being Santa.
Someone coughed behind her. Emily’s mother loomed in the doorway, her hands clasped at her waist. She glanced at the empty trays of cookie sheets Emily had ready next to the oven.
“Want to help?” Emily asked, avoiding eye contact. She and her mom hadn’t really spoken since Emily had lashed out at her in front of everyone at the sting last night. Emily knew she should apologize, but she didn’t really know what to say. She’d meant every word. Why should she take it back?
Mrs. Fields didn’t answer, settling stiffly into a kitchen chair and making a big deal out of examining a loose thread on one of the place mats, which was printed with a chicken wearing a holly wreath on its head. Emily rolled out the dough, feeling more and more uncomfortable.
Finally, her mother let out a sigh. “You were right, you know.”
Emily’s head whipped up. “Pardon?”
“What you said last night about the baby Jesus.” Her mother chewed on a thumbnail. “Maybe I have lost sight of things. Maybe it was crazy to want the baby Jesus back just so I could sell it to buy gifts. It’s just . . . I wanted Christmas to be extra-special this year. Because of everything we’ve all been through. Because of you and that A girl. Because of Alison.”
When she looked up, her eyes were wet, which made Emily tear up, too. “I know how much she meant to you,” Mrs. Fields said in a choked voice. “I know how hard it’s been to accept she was . . .” She trailed off, not daring to say the word murdered. “And the thought that it was someone we knew, someone so close to all you girls . . . I couldn’t bear the idea that it could have been you instead. Your dad and I are just so grateful that you’re here. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”
Emily moved from the counter to the seat next to her mother and placed her hand lightly on her wrist. “I don’t need a ton of gifts to understand that,” she said gently. “All you have to do is say it.”
“I know.” Mrs. Fields rested her head on Emily’s shoulder. Emily shut her eyes and thought about how Ali’s murder must have affected every parent in Rosewood. It had probably been terrifying for them. But in other ways, maybe Ali’s death could bring parents and kids closer. Maybe it could help those who were still alive.
“I’m sorry I got you into that Santa mess,” Mrs. Fields murmured. “I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“Actually I’m glad you did,” Emily muttered, suddenly feeling drained. “It was kind of fun. And even though you won’t believe this, they were nice girls.”
She wondered what the elves were doing right now—Mrs. Meriwether had mentioned that she had also found all new elves for Santa Land, too. Were they lounging at home right now? Trying to connect with their distant and disjointed families? Suddenly, Emily felt a little sorry for them. Their problems were larger than life. Sophie was flunking out of Yale. Lola’s brother was an addict. They still had to find a way to deal with all of those things.
Her mother blotted her tears with a napkin, stood, and shuffled out of the room with her head down, just like she always did when she’d shown a little too much emotion.
Emily returned to her Christmas cookies, feeling a lot better. When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and padded through the living room to answer it. Four shadowy heads shifted back and forth through the sidelight. Emily drew in a breath—the elves.
Swallowing hard, she pulled open the door, making the jingle bells on the knob rattle. The four girls on the porch eyed her. None of them were smiling. Emily’s heart began to thud in her chest.
“We know what you did,” Cassie said in a wooden voice.
Emily’s throat felt dry. “I know you know,” she said. “But it wasn’t like that. I really wasn’t part of the sting. I swear.”
The four girls continued to glare. Emily was sure they could hear her galloping heart. She was about to apologize again, but then Cassie burst out laughing, lunged forward, and wrapped Emily in a huge hug. Heather circled her arms around Emily, and then Lola and Sophie joined in, too. Emily remained stiff for a few moments, and then tentatively squeezed back.
“We know it was you who got us free,” Cassie said. “We saw you through the window talking to O’Neal. But how did you do it?”
Emily pulled away and blinked hard. So much for remaining anonymous. “He was the stripper we saw in the window that night,” she said shakily. “I had pictures.”
The elves exchanged a glance, and then all of them gave her high fives. “You’re a badass, Santa,” Heather said. “O’Neal let us out without even a fine. The only thing we had to do was clean up the country club this morning and put the gifts back under the tree.”
“I’m really sorry about what happened.” Emily leaned against the siding of her house. “I swear I didn’t know my mother was following us. I had no idea she’d tracked us through my phone. I did initially get the Santa job to spy on you guys—you were right. But I gave that up soon after I met you. I’m not cut out to be a narc.”
“We know, Santa.” Cassie touched Emily lightly on the wrist. “You’re cool.”
“And actually, we have something for you.” Lola disappeared into the bushes and unveiled something wrapped in a large blue quilt. She set it down on the stoop and pulled the blankets away; nestled inside was her mother’s baby Jesus. It didn’t have a scratch on it. The little ceramic baby was sleeping peacefully, same as always.
“We thought your mom might want this back,” Cassie said with a wink. “She was getting pretty worked up about it last night.”
Emily touched the baby Jesus’s head with the tip of her finger. “Thanks, you guys. This will mean a lot to her.”
“No worries.” Sophie looked at her watch. “We’d better go, guys. We have that . . . thing.”
The elves nodded mysteriously. Emily felt a hurt twinge, wishing they’d tell her where they were going, but maybe that was asking for too much.
Cassie stepped off the stoop and waggled her finger. “Don’t tell anyone about this, okay, Santa?”
“Of course not,” Emily said. “Don’t tell my mom on me, either.”
“We promise.”
“Maybe we’ll meet up next year at Santa Land.” Lola suppressed a giggle. “I kind of like being an elf, to tell you the truth.”
“It’s a deal,” Emily said.
The elves sauntered back to Cassie’s car. Emily hugged her arms to her chest for warmth, watching as they drove away. A twig cracked in the distance, and she glanced toward the cornfields, feeling that old, familiar sense of unease. This was too much of a coincidence: Someone was back there. Someone was watching her. “Hello?” she called, stepping off the porch.
But no one answered. Whatever—or whoever—it was had vanished.
Bad Santa
I might have disappeared into the cornfield, Em, but I’m not going anywhere.
I have to admit—I’m kind of impressed with how our little Emily has grown. Bribing an officer of the court? Who knew she had that in her? Then again, she always did have a soft spot for her friends. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the key to Emily’s heart is the best friend she loved and lost. If Emily thought there was any chance that her dear Ali was back, she’d go to the ends of the earth to find her.
