Page 43 of Charlotte's Story
It was time I stopped assuming the worst in people, especially men. Yes, trusting people was a risk, but one I was finally willing to take—even if life didn’t unfold the way I’d planned. William wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. And I was done hiding myself away. It was time to face the truth, for myself, and for what happened to Dahlia.
We passed a present wrapped neatly with a bow with a tag that saidTo Dadthat had never been opened. Maybe the father had never returned for the present. It sat next to a gingerbread house collapsed on one side.
A music box played half of “Silent Night” before it ground to a halt and started over, but I didn’t let myself get distracted. Once we turned the next corner, we ran into Mr. Ashford.
“Pastor Collins, Charlotte, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for a star.” I came to a stop next to him, my gaze resting on the item in the display across the hall. “That star, actually.”
“Is that the Star of Everlight?” William’s mouth fell open as he took in the star that glittered with gold.
Mr. Ashford’s eyes widened and he held up his hands. “I promise I didn’t steal it.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I opened the case, and the star hummed in my hands. As I lifted it out, a shimmer of gold light rippled across its surface, and a warmth bloomed through my fingertips—like the moment before a wish comes true. Magic. Faint, but unmistakable. “If you had taken it,” I said softly, watching the star catch the light like it knew I was looking, “why would you leave it glowing like this for everyone to see?”
“Then what is it doing here?” William asked.
“I think this star had something to do with Dahlia’s death.” I chewed on my lower lip. “I’m not positive, but I think so.” Iturned to William. “Brexton said it himself that she mentioned the star before rushing off that night.”
“Why would it be here, though?” Mr. Ashford said.
“Well, like I said, it’s more a theory than anything, but the fact that the star went missing the same night as our wedding—the same night as the murder—reinforces it. Plus, Dahlia said something about the star. And you said it yourself that the museum calls regrets to it, so maybe the star wasn’t stolen at all. Maybe it was drawn here because it’s tied to a regret.” My words were as rambling as my thoughts while I tried to piece everything together.
William rubbed his scruff. “It’s a possible explanation that we shouldn’t rule out.”
“Meaning someone regretted what happened to Dahlia,” Mr. Ashford whispered.
“Do you think her death was an accident?” William asked.
“I don’t know, but we need to find out.” I frowned down at the star in my hand. “Accident or not, someone killed her and might have tried to frame you for it, so we can’t just let them run free through Austen Heights.”
“I think you’re right that Dahlia might have gotten mixed up in something she didn’t mean to,” Mr. Ashford said. “She told me she’d be back late that night, but then she didn’t come back at all, and the next thing I knew I was getting a call from the police.”
“Maybe she overheard a plot to steal the star or something about it, and that’s why she got killed,” I mused, thinking back on ChiyoObasan’sexplanation of how powerful the star was. Even for an Unmarked, it might still be a good target since it could probably be sold for a lot.
William traced a hand over the small plaque that sat beneath the space where the star had been. It read:For the light that was dimmed too soon. Not every constellation can last.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He glanced at me, then returned his attention to the plaque. “I’ve seen this handwriting before. It’s familiar. The same slant to the Rs and curls to the Cs. It matches the card that was found on Dahlia’s body and one of the signs from the Christmas market.”
Leave it up to William to notice those tiny details. He was always so attentive to things. It was one of his best qualities.
I met William’s eyes as the killer’s identity fell into place. “Then we can confront the killer tomorrow at the tree lighting ceremony.”
Chapter 11
Thenextevening,Williamand I headed into town for the tree lighting ceremony. I’d returned the star to Mayor Pembroke, so everything was set to continue as planned. William and I had also talked through what might happen today, so we were both prepared to face the killer—ifI was right about my guess.
The icicle lanterns lit the path with blues, greens, reds, and golds, and when I touched one, it released a soft hum. It reminded me of the illumination that went up in Tokyo each Christmas. My heart pounded wildly at the thought of what we were about to do. But having William by my side made everything a little less frightening.
“Charlotte?”
“Yeah?” I glanced at him.
“Can I hold your hand?”
My cheeks flushed. Hopefully, he thought it was because of the cold air. Would I never get used to him asking that? “All right.” I held mine out, and he wrapped his fingers around mine.
