Deadly Holiday (Georgia Rae Winston Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Deadly Holiday

  © 2018 by Marissa Shrock

  All rights reserved.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover art ©Jennifer Zemanek/Seedlings Design Studio

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Published by Cimelia Press, Greentown, Indiana

  Printed in the United States of America

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018906611

  For my grandmas, Annabelle Shrock and Juanita Simpson

  Author’s Note

  Writing a novel gives an author the opportunity to create new places, and this is something I chose to do in Deadly Holiday. Wildcat Springs, Richardville, and Richard County are all figments of my imagination. I also took some liberties with police investigations to remain true to the pace and flow of the story.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  Also by Marissa Shrock

  Credits

  Chapter One

  Awkwardness and I were old friends, but it wasn’t every day that I found myself wedged under the church secretary’s desk clutching my Bible to my chest. Crouching next to a tangle of dusty computer cords and cobwebs, I pressed my finger underneath my tingling nose.

  Drop dead, sneeze.

  I longed for the superpower of invisibility, because if Pastor Mark and Zach saw me, how would I ever explain? I’d certainly use my gift of babbling to try.

  But I should back up and start at the beginning.

  It began earlier that night at choir practice, the Monday before Thanksgiving. I was sitting in Wildcat Springs Community Church’s chapel and stewing about what to get my boyfriend for our first Christmas together.

  Okay, maybe boyfriend was a stretch. Cal Perkins and I had been dating for about three weeks and hadn’t attempted the let’s-be-exclusive conversation. The talk had to be coming soon, right? I wasn’t sure, because I’d never had a serious boyfriend—ever. Which, at thirty, was just plain embarrassing to admit.

  I drummed my fingers against my music folder.

  “Georgia, will you close in prayer?” Jessica Myers, the choir director, faced me with a broad smile.

  A few fellow sopranos looked my way, and I squirmed. I swallowed and locked eyes with one of my best friends, Brandi Hartfield, sitting in the alto section. Sure, God and I powwowed on a regular basis, but praying in front of forty-odd people wasn’t my thing, and Brandi, a praying expert, knew it. But instead of jumping in to save me, she tossed an encouraging nod in my direction.

  Traitor.

  “Sure!” I wrung my hands and sent a silent petition Heavenward. Please don’t let me embarrass myself. “Lord, thank you for this practice and for the work Jessica’s doing to make our part of the Christmas program a success. I pray for traveling mercies as we go our separate ways for Thanksgiving and ask that you bring us back safely next week. Amen.”

  No one sent strange looks my direction, so my prayer apparently passed inspection. Not too long. Not too short.

  I slid my folder into my red satchel that I’d bought on sale last week because I’d wanted to be festive for the holiday season. Plus, it looked good with my gray, skirted peacoat.

  “Run into any good mysteries lately?” Olivia Scott picked up her folder and tucked it under her arm. She was a pretty girl who was around twenty or so, and we’d had fun chatting during the last few rehearsals.

  “No—just the TV variety—thank goodness.” I’d recently helped the Richard County Sheriff’s Department solve a murder case, and apparently, I was developing a reputation as my home town’s amateur sleuth.

  “Isn’t it exciting to help solve a case?” She brushed a bit of lint off of her black, lacy sleeve.

  “Actually—yes.” I tied my sash. “But I’m just as happy bingeing on episodes of Psych.”

  Her face lit up. “Totally. I love Shawn and Gus.” She picked up her purse. “Happy Thanksgiving.” Olivia sailed past me, her strawberry blond hair swishing.

  I headed toward the exit, and Brandi joined me. “I didn’t blow that prayer, did I?” I whispered.

  “You did fine.” Brandi flipped her short brown curls out from the black fur collar on her coat.

  “Thanks.” We took the narrow hallway toward the church’s main entrance. “I need to swing by the lost and found because I left my Bible here yesterday.” I pointed in the direction of the offices.

  Mona Pletcher, the secretary, kept a basket of lost items behind her desk.

  Brandi removed gloves from her coat pockets as we crossed the café area. “I’m so ready for a break. One more day.”

  She taught eighth-grade social studies, and this year’s class wasn’t exactly stellar—academically or behaviorally.

  We stopped next to Mona’s curved desk that overlooked the hallway, and I walked around the counter. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  After student teaching, I’d opted out of a career in music education and had chosen to farm corn and soybeans with my grandpa Winston instead.

  I spotted my Bible sitting in the basket on top of a pile of sweaters and sweatshirts. As I grabbed it, an angry, but muffled, voice blasted through the office area.

  “What were you thinking? What kind of example are you setting for the kids?” Pastor Mark shouted.

  Brandi and I exchanged glances, and I started to tiptoe around the desk.

  “Just let me explain!” It was a younger man’s voice—probably Zach Mishler. He’d worked at our church for about six months as the youth pastor. Though he was at least twenty-five, he blended in with the kids because of his boyish face. “I have a good reas—”

  “Go,” Pastor Mark said. “We’ll discuss this when I’ve calmed down.”

  Pastor Mark’s office door flew open. Brandi ducked around the corner, but I dove under Mona’s desk, scrunching my long legs into the tiny space.

  So, there I was—Georgia versus a mega sneeze.

  I pushed harder underneath my nose. I will win this war. I peered around the edge of the desk.

  Zach stomped down the hall toward the side exit, and Pastor Mark slapped his palm against the wall and muttered something I couldn’t understand.

  The tingling in my nose diminished, and I dropped my hand.

  Shoulders drooping, Pastor Mark smoothed his thinning hair and trudged to his office. When he slammed his door, I unwound my legs, darted around Mona’s desk, and half-ran, half-limped toward Brandi, who was already down the hall out of earshot.

  “Achoo!” My sneeze refused to be denied.

  “Bless
you. Thank goodness they didn’t see you,” Brandi whispered when I caught up.

  “No kidding.” I sniffled. “I barely fit. I’ve always said I’m too tall for my own good.” I chuckled, but then my laughter faded. “What do you think Zach did?”

  Brandi flattened her lips. “No idea.”

  I stifled a sigh. Brandi hated gossip, so if I wanted to speculate, I was talking to the wrong friend. If our other buddy, Ashley Choi, had been here, she wouldn’t have hesitated to give me her opinion, and we would’ve analyzed the situation to death.

  Whatever the issue was, I’d hear about it soon enough. Wildcat Springs, Indiana, was a small town, and things never stayed secret for long.

  Thanksgiving Day, I stood on the front porch of my mom and stepdad’s massive Tudor in Richardville, Indiana’s swankiest subdivision, while I balanced a store-bought veggie tray, the safest item for me to contribute to our feast. I rang the bell and waited.

  Every gathering with the Winston-Farthing clan had been a trial for me since Mom had married Dan five years ago. And because my brother Dakota and his wife Stella were with her family for Thanksgiving, I’d be very outnumbered today.

  Farthings, five. Winstons, one.

  My twenty-year-old stepsister Makayla opened the door.

  “Hey, Georgia.” She flipped her pink-streaked hair over her shoulder and stepped aside so I could enter.

  “Nice lip ring.” Her new addition looked painful.

  “Thanks.” She took my coat, hung it in the closet, and lowered her voice. “Dad totally hates it.”

  No surprise, since her buttoned-up lawyer of a father had been apoplectic about her hair. “Did you tell him it’s less permanent than a tattoo?”

  “That strategy failed.” She rolled her blue-green eyes—her most striking feature.

  Makayla still hadn’t gotten over the fact that her daddy had brought a stepmom into her confusing teenaged life, and since I understood her conflicted feelings about parents remarrying, we had a comfortable, unspoken truce where we exchanged pleasantries and then left each other alone.

  Today was no exception, so I followed the aroma of roasting turkey and sage dressing into the kitchen. For a few seconds, the familiar mingling of smells tricked me into thinking that if I just closed my eyes, Daddy would still be here with us, and my life would be simpler.

  Looking at Mom and Dan’s remodeled kitchen with its modern rustic touches, like the barn door on the pantry, I wondered if Mom missed our farm. After Daddy’d died, she’d lived there for a few years before remarrying and selling the one-hundred-year-old house to me.

  Mom bustled toward me and gathered me in a hug. “Hi, sweetie.” She wore her honey-blond hair—the same shade as mine—short. If only I’d inherited her petite build and love of running. Instead, I carried a bit more weight than I would’ve liked.

  She flitted back to the stove to stir the noodles simmering in chicken broth.

  Dan took the veggie tray, cracked it open, and grabbed a baby carrot. “I thought you might bring that detective you’ve been seeing lately.”

  My eyes widened. “Cal went to Ohio to be with his family.”

  Should my relationship with Cal be moving faster? Truthfully, neither one of us had considered spending Thanksgiving together, though we’d video chatted this morning.

  Dan ripped the foil covering off the dip and dunked a carrot in ranch dressing. “Maybe we can meet him at Christmas.”

  “Maybe.” Or not. The last thing I wanted was to scare Cal away, but his years in law enforcement had made him tough.

  “Meet who?” Austin sauntered to the island, clawed a handful of veggies, and gave me the once-over. Or was it Preston? Dan’s twenty-four-year-old identical twin sons both had broad shoulders, blond hipster haircuts, and were—unfortunately—as handsome as they believed.

  “Does the old maid Georgia finally have a boyfriend?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Are they going to get married and make little farmer babies?”

  Dan was a nice man, but I didn’t know what’d happened to his sons. Not only had the apples fallen far from the tree, but they’d rolled downhill and rotted.

  “I don’t have a crystal ball, Austin, but if I did, it’d show me you’ll never get married and make babies.” I wondered for the thousandth time how he and his brother scraped together enough maturity to make a living selling houses.

  “I’m Preston.” He winked and shoved a piece of cauliflower in his mouth.

  Dan elbowed his son, his handsome face filled with disapproval. “Cut it out, Austin.”

  Austin snickered and went into the living room to watch football with his diabolical partner in crime, and I made a mental note that he was wearing a black polo.

  Ever since I’d known them, they’d thought it was a real kick to try to fool me with the whole who’s who nonsense. And I couldn’t tell them apart. Correctly identifying Austin had been a lucky guess. Probably if I was around them enough, I might figure it out eventually, but I didn’t exactly go looking for opportunities to hang out with them.

  I lingered next to the kitchen table. “How can I help?” Not that I’d be able to do very much.

  “We’ve got it,” Mom said. “Go relax and watch some football.”

  After dinner, I wanted to curl up in the guest room and take a nap, but Dan would have none of that. Instead, the whole family gathered at the dining room table, dumped out a case of dominoes, and started a game of Mexican Train. Preston pushed the button on the domino hub, and the obnoxious whistle whined through the room, followed by a chugging engine.

  “So Georgia, what was it like finding a dead body?” Austin smirked as he arranged his dominoes into a line.

  I opened my mouth to shut him down, but Makayla perked up.

  “You found a body? When?” She huffed and glared at her dad. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Dan selected a blue train marker and slapped it down on the table. “If you’d call or text more often…”

  Mom rested her hand on Dan’s arm and shook her head ever so slightly.

  Makayla pressed her lips together. “Who was it?” She snatched the glittery pink train marker from the pile.

  I traced my finger over a domino’s edge. “A girl named Tara Fullerton was killed at the edge of my field, and I found her when Grandpa and I were harvesting beans.”

  Makayla covered her mouth. “Ew.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like TV. It’s completely horrifying—especially when you know the person.” I tried to concentrate on lining up a train, but the dots swam together, making it a challenge to match the dominoes. “Can we change the subject?”

  “It’s cool you helped solve the case.” Preston flipped a domino between his fingers. “If you ever need a sidekick, I could be your Watson.”

  Austin plopped the double nine in the middle of the domino hub. “Dude, I want to be Watson.”

  “What makes either of you idiots think she’d pick you as a sidekick?” Makayla asked.

  Austin clutched his chest. “You wound me, Mak.”

  Preston pretended to stab and twist a knife into his heart. “No words.”

  “You can all relax.” I caught Makayla’s eye and smiled. “I don’t need any sidekicks because I’m not planning to find a dead body ever again.”

  That night, I escaped with plenty of leftovers that Mom had packaged in to-go containers. The drive back to my farm outside of Wildcat Springs usually took about twenty minutes. When I was almost home, my phone rang, and I didn’t recognize the number that appeared on my truck’s navigation screen.

  I tapped the phone button on the steering wheel. “This is Georgia.”

  “Oh, I’m glad I caught you. Ruby Daniels here.” The shrill voice of my church drama director reverberated through the cab.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Have you heard Jessica Myers was in a car accident earlier today?”

  I drew a sharp breath and thought of Jessica’s family.
“No. Is she okay?”

  “She’ll live, but her leg got mangled pretty badly. Had to have surgery. Poor thing’ll have a simply awful time trying to keep track of those kids of hers while she’s stuck in bed.”

  “Was her family hurt?”

  “No. She left her little hellions at home and was making a last-minute run to the dollar store when the Saxon boy ran a stop sign and T-boned her over on 850 North and 1000 East. I tell you, that intersection is terrible. I don’t know how many accidents it’ll take before the county puts in a four-way stop.”

  “Is the Saxon boy okay?” For the life of me, I couldn’t remember his first name, even though his family attended our church.

  “His airbag went off, but he walked away with a few scratches since he’s got that huge pick-up truck.”

  I kneaded my steering wheel. “I’ll definitely be praying for Jessica.”

  “Good. She needs it. Anyhoo, the reason I called is that there’s simply no way Jessica will recover in time to direct the choir for our Christmas program.”

  Now I knew what Ruby wanted. Wait for it…

  “Would you take Jessica’s place? I can’t bear the thought of letting our community down. They so look forward to the program.”

  Being the musical director was an entirely different level of responsibility than singing in the choir, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me. Still, it’d be good to keep my skills sharp. Agriculture was a tough business, and a bad year could force me to use my college degree. Though, the thought of spending my days trapped in a classroom taming squirrely kids gave me heart palpitations. Besides, with harvest finished, I did have more time to spare.