Page 32
Story: So This Is Christmas
“ I know I can’t be there, but remember this, Taylor,” Alice had said as she’d seen Taylor to the car earlier that morning. Of course, she knew about the Colburns and unfortunately also the grisly details. A middle-schooler with a smart phone had a handle on current events.
Her feisty stepdaughter had looked defiant as she stood by the car window. “A famous author named Lois McMaster Bujoldsaid that ‘the dead cannot cry out for justice. That it is the duty of the living to do so for them.’”
“Thanks, honey,” Taylor said, then pulled away from the driveway, out the gates and down to the square in town.
Alice— and Bujold —was so right. At least Taylor hoped so, and that, when the trial was said and done, justice truly would prevail for the Colburns.
Once in the building, a movement caught Taylor’s eye, and she recognized Nancy Hurst, Erin’s mother, sitting on the bench outside the courtroom. She was the one who had stumbled onto the murder scene, and had unfortunately seen all four bodies, including that of her daughter. She would be called as a witness, therefore couldn’t be there during the proceedings .
“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Hurst,” Taylor said softly when she got close enough.
Nancy nodded. She looked strong and in control. She’d probably be there every single day, sitting just outside as the trial moved from day to day, taking her daughter’s memory through the wringer.
“Thank you,” Nancy said. It came out like she’d said it a few thousand times that day alone, and the words were written on her face, automatic on her tongue.
Taylor slipped quietly into the courtroom, the heavy oak door creaking as it closed behind her. The air was dense with anticipation, the hum of whispered conversations fading as Judge Crawford took his place at the bench. Shane was seated confidently behind the prosecution's table, his profile sharp and proud. His posture radiated the confidence of a man who believed he’d solved the case, and for good reason.
Of course he didn’t turn to look for her. She would be the last thing on his mind.
Special Agents Maeve Hanson and Jared Tuffin from the Georgia Bureau of Investigation sat in the same row as Shane.
Her chest tightened. A pang of something close to jealousy flickered through her. She hadn’t done much in the case—just a few quiet nudges in the right direction, connecting the dots on Raya’s anger about money that fueled it all. But she couldn’t shake the feeling of being sidelined, as though her contributions didn’t matter.
She took a seat at the back, careful to not disturb the court. Cate and Ellis had the kids until the afternoon, leaving her free to be here, to witness the beginning of justice for Jane and Willis, and Seth and Erin … to begin its slow march forward. She wouldn’t stay long, just a half hour or so, then back to the farm.
Sam was there now, working in his shop, only a text away if Quig needed him. On that note, he’d taken the news pretty well when Taylor had advised him that they would have an additional child under their roof indefinitely. He’d shrugged, saying, “The more the merrier,” and hugged her tightly, easing her anxiety about telling him, though he couldn’t lift the worry she held over where Lucy was and if she was okay.
Prosecutor Lance Hamilton rose to address the jury, and Taylor’s attention shifted. His voice was calm, deliberate, as he painted a holiday tableau for the jurors.
“Ladies and gentlemen, imagine this: Christmas Eve in a quiet, wooded home. A tree adorned with lights, a roast in the oven. Jane Colburn wrapping gifts for her grandchildren while her husband, Willis, relaxes in his favorite chair. A family preparing for the holiday season.”
The courtroom was silent, save for the faint scratch of a pen as a juror jotted notes on a legal pad. Taylor leaned back in her seat, letting the details wash over her. It was hard to reconcile the peaceful image, knowing the brutality that followed.
“In an instant, everything changed,” Hamilton continued, his voice dropping an octave, before the dramatic next words. “When Raya Colburn and her boyfriend, Ronnie McGill, entered that home.”
Taylor’s gaze flickered toward the defense table, where Raya sat with her head bowed. Her dark hair hung like a curtain, obscuring her face, but her body seemed unnaturally still. It was almost as though she had already resigned herself to her fate.
In stark contrast, Missy Ann sat a few rows ahead of Taylor and to the left, close to the front. Tears streaked her face, her lips trembling as she stared at her younger sister. The look in her eyes was accusatory, raw, as though she couldn’t fully process the monster Raya had become.
Taylor had heard whispers about the confrontation in jail—how Missy Ann had demanded answers, had pleaded with Raya to explain why she’d destroyed their family. It had been emotional, an explosion of grief and anger, and, afterward, Missy Ann had cut all ties.
They hadn’t spoken since.
Taylor’s chest tightened as she watched the older sister now, her shoulders trembling as she silently wept. She couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to lose so much in one instant—and, worse, to lose it at the hands of someone you’d shared your childhood with. Someone you thought you could trust.
Family. Your own blood, even. Did Missy Ann now wonder if she herself had the capability to be a cold-blooded killer?
Taylor’s thoughts shifted to her own sisters. Growing up, she’d believed she knew them better than anyone else in the world. Their secrets, their quirks, their dreams. But watching Missy Ann, she now realized how little people truly knew about one another, even within a family.
What must it be like to discover that someone you thought you understood—someone you thought you loved—was capable of such unimaginable cruelty?
Take Lucy, for example. Taylor had thought that Johnny was her sister’s most prized achievement, her reason to better herself and work hard to be successful. Even her reason for living! Never in a million years did she think Lucy could just up and disappear, leaving him behind to wonder where his mom was. He’d had a lot of teary-eyed nights over the last few months, asking for his mommy when he was sleepy and exhausted, needing to feel her presence.
Thankfully, he was doing much better, but there was no telling what was going on in his little head, what trauma Lucy had caused him, that he would carry forward into his life. It was just inconceivable that her sister would do this to him, especially after the childhood trauma that they had all survived. Didn’t she want different for Johnny?
Couldn’t she see what she was doing to him? To all of them?
She returned her focus to Hamilton, who was now outlining the grim sequence of events.
“Greed,” he said, his voice sharp. “That’s what this is about. Pure, unadulterated greed. Raya Colburn didn’t just want more—she believed she was entitled to it. She believed her parents, her brother, they all owed her something. And when they didn’t deliver, she took matters into her own hands.”
Taylor straightened, a small flicker of validation washing over her. She’d seen it first—that thread of entitlement woven through Raya’s story. Her resentment toward Seth, her anger over money she believed was hers.
“Poor Erin Colburn, wife to Seth and mother of two young children, Nicky and Britney. The crime scene dictated that, out of everyone, she’d been especially brutalized. And why? I’ll tell you why—because she was married to Seth. Miss Colburn was jealous of losing her brother’s attention. And she was jealous that Erin was everything she wasn’t. A good wife. A mother. A caring and attentive daughter-in-law, stepping into the shoes that Raya couldn’t fill.”
He then laid it all out: the meticulous planning, the cold calculation, the lengths to which Raya Colburn and Ronnie McGill had gone to cover their tracks. Photos of the wooded property and the house were shown, and then the crime scenes themselves, but Taylor couldn’t bring herself to look. She’d already seen them and wanted those visions to fade from her memory.
Instead, her gaze drifted to Raya again. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched at the descriptions of the murders.
Missy Ann, on the other hand, was visibly shaking, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Taylor could almost feel the waves of grief and fury radiating from her.
“Raya Colburn believed she deserved more,” Hamilton concluded, his voice steady. “But what she did was not justifiable. It was not excusable. The death bullets may not have come from her gun but were surely fired by her orders. Raya Colburn convinced Ronnie McGill that her family members were evil, that they’d always picked on her. That they should pay for her long years of feeling neglected and abused. She worked on him for three weeks, planning every last detail leading up to Christmas Eve. What Raya did that day was no less than cold, calculated murder, driven by selfishness and greed. And we will prove that to you in the weeks ahead.”
As Hamilton returned to his seat, Judge Crawford called for a recess. The courtroom erupted into soft murmurs as people began to stand, stretch, or leave their seats.
Taylor stayed put, her eyes locked on Shane. He was still seated behind the prosecution’s table, his shoulders back, his expression unreadable. She wondered what he was thinking. Relief? Pride? Did he feel the weight of the case on his shoulders or the exhilaration of having cracked it?
She thought about telling the sheriff what she’d done, the small ways she’d helped Shane get to the end of the investigation. But she knew better.
Dawkins would only see her involvement as disobeying direct orders from him, call it reckless. Admitting the truth might cost her the fragile trust they’d been building. He and the doctor had both agreed that she was almost ready to go back to work. Taylor didn’t want to jeopardize it. She planned on telling Sam that evening, just to give him time to mentally prepare, and so that they could discuss what it meant for Lennon and Johnny.
As the prosecutor continued, Taylor quietly slipped out, her mind churning as she thought about the thin, fragile threads that bound families together, and how easily they could snap. She’d spent most of her life trying to keep her family ties tightened and keep her loved ones safe. Sometimes the lines were flimsy, but, so far, always there. She had no plans to relax her sentry now.
You’ve probably guessed, by the sailboat and gorgeous sunset, that you as a reader are cordially invited to attend the wedding of Ellis’ daughter, to be held on the grounds of the all-inclusive high-end resort in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Cate feels like an outsider, especially since Ellis’ daughter is not too fond of her new stepmother. To give her mother emotional support, Taylor (and Sam) will be attending, and let’s just say the term, ‘til death do we part, might take on a whole new warning—oops, meaning. If you’d like to be notified when there is a publish date for Every Little Thing , you can be among the first to know when you sign up for my monthly newsletter at the following link:
Want to read a sneak peek of True To Me ? Keep turning the pages, but first …
LYDIA it was a way forward. A way to turn pain into purpose. And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what they all needed. ***
True To Me