Page 21

Oh no . . .

I looked down, realizing that Santa was deflating under me, my pin having inadvertently punctured him as I’d gone to save myself.

My gut felt like it was sinking down to my knees. A wave of heat, then cold, shot through my veins—​freezing my limbs. I glanced up, just able to still see Kerr’s head with Izzy’s face nestled into his neck.

Managing to force myself into action, I rolled off Santa, who had rapidly deflated and was now as flat as a pancake. Adrenaline drove me to commando crawl across the lawn, and I went into the bushes, heart pounding, pausing to check that Kerr still hadn’t spotted me. His face was illuminated with a glow, as the TV across his living room cast light onto where he was sitting wearing my cat like a necklace, his Christmas tree twinkling softly in the background.

A warm feeling trickled into my veins, distracting me from my swirling stomach and adrenaline-​filled bloodstream. I never would have expected Kerr to behave in an affectionate manner toward Izzy, not after Drew witnessed him injuring her with his car. I’d just assumed that he was a grumpy sort of vet who hated the cat subsection of his patients, a bit like family doctors who clearly do not like children. Not that doctors would mow kids down with their cars, of course.

However, if I had ever anticipated witnessing this scene, I would have expected to feel angry or jealous at the sight of the man I disliked cuddling my feline friend. But this pleasant and comforting sensation currently warming my chest felt nothing like anger or jealousy. It was soothing. A little bit mushy. Like a warm shot of alcohol sliding into my system. And it scared the absolute hell out of me. Almost as much as getting caught hiding in Kerr’s garden shortly after popping his Santa.

I silently scrambled out of the bushes, across the road, and back into the safety of my own home.

11

Kerr

THE DOORBELL SOUNDED just as I was about to take my first sip of coffee. I paused yearningly, the smooth nutty scent calling to me. Then, with a grunt, I set the mug down and made my way to open the front door, where I was surprised to find my next-​door neighbor, Archie, and his cockapoo Lady Featherington. Or Lady, for short. Archie’s wife, Morag, was a big fan of Bridgerton and said that Lady Featherington the dog was so named because she interfered in everyone’s business and was rather manipulative in getting what she wanted, but her heart was in the right place.

“There’s a Santa down,” Archie said, somewhat cryptically.

I blinked, fighting the urge to look back over my shoulder into the kitchen and gaze longingly at my coffee. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lady noticed that your Santa is down.”

Lady gave me a haughty look, then let out a single bark in confirmation.

I peered round the edge of the doorway and spotted that my Santa was now a jolly red and white rug flat on the grass. “Funny,” I muttered. “Pump must have failed.”

I grabbed my jacket from a hook in the hallway and went over to inspect the situation. The air pump was still going, so that wasn’t the issue. I inspected the Santa meticulously, running my hands over the material until I found the source of the problem on the left side of Santa’s chest. A hole, right over the heart.

I paused for a moment, processing that piece of information. Then I switched off the pump and stood, noticing that Archie and Lady were still there, nosing over my shoulder. “It’s punctured,” I told Archie. “Perhaps by a small animal.”

Lady barked, turning her head across the street.

“Or maybe it was vandalism,” Archie commented, giving me a knowing look as he jerked his head toward the house across the street.

Glancing in that direction, I could have sworn that I saw the living room blind twitch. And come to think of it, Nisa’s blinds were normally up at this time of day. Not that I studied her so closely as to memorize the timers of her blinds or anything. But it was unusual that they were still down. Or, perhaps, convenient, if one was keeping tabs on the discovery of their vandalism.

I turned to Archie and Lady with a smile plastered on my face. “I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation for this.”

Archie raised his eyebrows with a chuckle. “If you say so.” He turned away. “Come now, Lady.”

Lady sat for a moment, giving me a snooty once-​over. Then she stood and trotted off down the driveway after Archie.

I eyed Nisa’s living room blind again. No more movement. Despite what I had said to Archie (and Lady) there was no doubt in my mind who the culprit was here. Once I got home from work I’d get out my puncture repair kit to fix Santa. And, perhaps, make a plan for revenge. But a less violent kind of revenge.

12

Nisa

I BIT MY thumbnail as I watched Kerr leave for work. Today was my day off and I was meeting Aisha for lunch in town.

Guilt was not a sensation I relished. It surged through my mind, dredging up memories of events that had elicited the same sickening feeling, like murky sand swirling up through water, until I was a neurotic, overthinking mess. Memories such as taking a Christmas Day shift at the last minute because practically all my staff were down with norovirus, leaving Drew to tackle cooking Christmas dinner alone. He was so annoyed I wasn’t there to cook that he didn’t speak to me until Boxing Day. Or that time when I was a junior nurse on a ward in a big Glasgow hospital and the ex-boyfriend of a patient turned up at visiting time. The patient had disclosed to me that he had been stalking her, so with her permission I called the police. But in the meantime, he wouldn’t leave the area and my patient was afraid. So I told him in no uncertain terms where the spare drip stand would be getting shoved if he didn’t get the hell off my ward. I’d seen him off, but the charge nurse had berated me for my “aggressive” tone in front of the other patients and visitors.

Or, even worse, that time when I was ten years old and desperate for a birthday party even though my wee sister was sick and needed a rest. Poor Aisha wanted to join in the fun but quickly became exhausted and nearly collapsed. Our parents were forced to carry her back to bed in tears. After my friends had left, my parents told me off for being so selfish and demanding a party. I never asked for one again.

Perhaps I should have confessed to Kerr. Gone over and admitted my guilt but explained that it had been unintentional? Well, it had started off as intentional, then became unintentional.