The Christmas Thief by Julie Carobini

away, groaning and growling like an irate queen. Realizing the animal would not be allowing her to get close, Tasha stood and began to back away. She was halfway back to the street when the poodle released one more “and stay out” bark into the black night and retreated, ostensibly back to her perch on her owner’s backyard lounger.
    Minutes later, Tasha reached the car, her heart still beating in her ears. If she’d wanted to simply raise her metabolism after a long day’s work, she’d certainly accomplished that. Tasha slid into the driver’s seat and put her key into the ignition. Truth was, she was looking for something—anything—that would help her figure out who was out to get Marc, and why they had attempted to pin the crimes on her.
    She made the slow and windy ride home, past the occasional cabin lit with Christmas lights and whimsical decor. She had put homes with some of the faces she’d met, and she had become introduced to another area of Cottage Grove, but for all the new information she had gained, Tasha realized that she still had more questions than answers.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
     
    The roses on her kitchen table exploded from their green-tinged vase. Every rose was dark crimson, open—and ostentatious. A card stuck up above the largest one, as if waving at her and calling out, “Pick me, pick me!”
    Tasha set her purse down and slipped out of her boots, sliding them up against the wall. Wolfy wandered over, sniffed her sock feet, sneezed, and rolled himself up next to her boots. Tasha patted his head. “Missed me, eh?”
    She pulled the card from the bouquet, curious. Had Marylu found them on the porch and brought them inside? She couldn’t imagine that Marc had given them to her, although she still wondered what had drawn him inside her cabin. Snooping for clues, perhaps? She rubbed her thumb over the place where her name was written on the envelope. The penmanship didn’t look familiar. Then again, it was probably written by a florist clerk. Tasha dropped the unopened card onto the table with a sigh. If her parents or a friend or camp folk had sent her flowers, they would not have been roses—and definitely not red ones.
    Her cell phone split the silence, the tune painful in its familiarity. Since You Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson. Brutal Lyrics. Perfect to signal that an ex was calling. Thing was ... she’d not actually received a call singing out that ode to a deadbeat ex—until now. The words of the song cut through her mind like a sharp blade. Her stomach tumbled, like she might be sick. She reached out, found herself staring at Roger’s name blazing on her screen like some rogue celebrity, and in a knee-jerk reaction, she turned off the ringer and tossed her phone onto the floor.
    Wolfy wandered over, sniffed her phone, then gave her a what’s-this-all-about look.
    “Don’t judge!” she said.
    Her pooch quirked his head to one side, and when she didn’t reply, he collapsed onto the ground next to her phone, the loose skin above his eyes shifting side to side.
    “Fine!” She ignored the phone and instead grabbed the envelope on her table and ripped it open.
     
    Tash -
    You were the one and I never knew it. I want you back. Can we put this behind us?
    Rog
     
    Really? The card was the size of a business card, so clearly he couldn’t fit much on it, but ... really? She remembered back to the evening she’d called him to discuss last minute reception seating arrangements. “About that ....” He’d begun his farewell speech, over the phone no less. About that? About their wedding? Their marriage? She took another glance at the card. His penmanship, as usual, was perfect. Image had always meant the most to him, and saying things like “I’m sorry I ripped your guts out of your body while breaking your heart ...” was probably not something he’d like to admit on paper.
    Tasha collapsed into a chair and rolled her