08 - December Dread (22 page)

I was only too happy to oblige. The sky overhead was the color of hardening cement when we pulled out of Orelock. The roads were clear but the news on the radio was grim. According to MPR, Minnesota was on a virtual lockdown. Women were told to call the police if they received any suspicious correspondence and to temporarily cease all online dating.

“The FBI sure changed its tune,” Mrs. Berns said. “Didn’t Angry Eyes Briggs pooh-pooh your online dating connection just two days ago?”

I reached to turn the heat up, but it was already fully cranked. “Guess they couldn’t ignore it any longer. Or they had made the connection themselves long ago and either found a way around all the lawsuits that are sure to emerge or decided putting all those women at risk wasn’t worth the possibility of trapping him.”

“What about our Craig/Greg guy? What do we do with him?”

I sighed deeply “He’s definitely suspicious. Briggs doesn’t take me seriously, unfortunately. Specifically, during our little chat in front of the coffee shop? He said he’d have me arrested if he saw or heard from me again.”

“So we just forget the profiles we printed out in Orelock?”

I signaled to pass a Sunday driver. “I think I’ll just hand the information off to the police, or maybe to the reporter from Chicago, Adam, and he can tell Briggs.”

“We can call the reporter on my cell.”

I dug in my pocket for the worn business card and handed it to her. She dialed and put the phone up to my ear when it started ringing. I heard three chirps before it clicked to his message.

Hi, this is Adam. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll call back as soon as I’m able.

“Adam, this is Mira James. Please give me a call when you get back, either at the Relax Inn in Paynesville or at this number. The cell belongs to a friend.”

I handed the phone back to Mrs. Berns to hang up. “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?”

“You’re going to pull into that gas station so I can pee?”

I shook my head but tapped my right turn signal and pulled into the station’s parking lot. “Copy catters and paranoia are going to take over. The whole state is going to be awash in tiny-minded people sending candy canes to enemies, and with every woman seeing threats under her bed.”

Thirty-three

As sure as eggs,
we were pulling into Paynesville when the radio announced that the FBI tip lines had crashed due to a large volume of calls. It seemed to be a combination of people reporting the sinister appearance of candy canes and/or suddenly noticing suspicious behaviors in their neighbors. Agent Walter Briggs was introduced and offered only a brief statement:

“The FBI is using all the resources at its disposal in order to capture the person the media has dubbed the Candy Cane Killer. We believe he has targeted women through online dating in the past, and we are requesting that women in the five-state area suspend their profiles so they are no longer visible until the killer is in custody. In the meanwhile, be assured that catching this person before he strikes again is our top priority. We also ask that any information regarding the killer be directed to your local police station until we can get the FBI tip lines up and running again.”

His voice sounded gruff and serious, like always. It twisted my stomach. I pulled into the Relax Inn parking lot and shut off the car. “Are you going to Mass with me and Mom?”

“Nope. One of the many rewards of being a Lutheran.” She fluffed her hair and stepped out of the Toyota. I followed. It felt at least ten degrees warmer than it had been in Orelock. Still cold, but not inhumane. “I figured I’d go back to the nursing home,” she said. “They can use my help, and if I dodder a little, the nurses think I’m one of the inmates and feed me. It’s a pretty good deal all around.”

“I can drive you.”

“No thanks. It’s only twelve blocks, and I need to exercise. I’ve been sitting in this soup can of yours for too long.”

Something about her demeanor made me nervous, but everything was making me nervous, so I didn’t argue. How much trouble could she stir up in Paynesville? It was daylight, and people were out and about. The gas station across the street was broadcasting Christmas music from speakers above the gas pumps. The sun was out and according to the local bank, the temperature was above zero. It was as safe as it was going to get. Mrs. Berns went one way and I went the other.

The Relax Inn we’d booked our indefinite stay in was small and locally owned and had been only too happy to take my Visa. I smiled at the teenager behind the counter and started up the stairs to our second-floor room. My mind was on the online dating connection when I stepped onto the landing overlooking the lobby and took a left into the hallway. A tall window at the end of the corridor let in dazzling sunbeams. My eyes needed a moment to adjust, and during that split-second, it appeared as though a man was leaving my hotel room. My heart careened painfully off my ribcage. I blinked, and he began walking toward me. His shape blocked most of the sun, leaving his face in shadows. He was tall, and the outline of his hands appeared as large as clubs.

I stumbled backward, toward the top of the stairs. Glancing to my right, I saw that the teenager had left her station. I whipped back to face him, my breath coming shallowly. Instinctively, I went into the fighting stance I’d learned in self-defense class.

The shadowy man passed me on the landing and started down the stairs. I saw him clearly for the first time. His hair was salt and pepper and from behind, he didn’t look nearly as tall as he had backlit against the sun.

“Excuse me.” My voice was shaking. I gripped the railing. “Sir. Excuse me.”

He turned, a polite expression on his face. He had a well-trimmed beard and mustache and smile lines around his warm brown eyes. I’d never seen him before in my life. “Yes?”

“What room are you in?”

I thought I saw an atom of guilt or panic on his face, but I could have been mistaken because there he was, still smiling politely at me. “I was visiting a friend. Room 24.”

The room directly across from ours. I shook my head as if clearing out cobwebs. “Sorry. Just, for a second there … never mind. Merry Christmas.”

He smiled, and I thought I saw a gold filling in the back of his mouth. “You too.”

Thirty-four

Because tomorrow was Christmas
Eve and Tuesday was Christmas Day, the Church of St. Joseph was offering Mass every four hours today up until midnight, just like a holy
Rocky Horror Picture Show
. This, on top of all the Christmas services they had planned. Mom was beaming as brightly as a lighthouse to have me at her side during a church service for the first time since high school. I started out listening to the sermon with a bad attitude but warmed up when I realized it was one of the rare ones I loved, light on the Jesus guilt, with an extra helping of do unto others. I was glad I’d packed dress clothes, or at least dress pants and a nice sweater, so that mom didn’t look like she’d done a bad job with me. I was so inspired by the priest’s message of hope and love that I didn’t mind staying after to be introduced to him like I was some sort of prize cow. Plus, cookies were to follow.

I was in the basement, three napkin-wrapped gingerbread men in my pocket (I fully intended to share them with Mrs. Berns) and one frosted Christmas tree in my hand when Patsy walked over to say hi.

“Did you hear about the killing in Orelock?” she asked.

I wiped crumbs off the front of my sweater and nodded. “Are you and the kids feeling safe?”

“We are now. I moved us into my mom and dad’s for now. The kids are on cloud nine, getting to hang out with Gram and Gramps for the whole week of Christmas break. It’s weird sleeping in my old twin bed, though, you know?”

I did. “That’s where I was until Mom and I moved to the Relax Inn.”

She stared at me, concerned. Her hair was down and curled, and she was wearing a pretty wool dress. The hair and outfit made her look very much like a mom. “Isn’t that kind of crowded? Didn’t you say you brought your animals?”

“Yup. I walked Luna right before we came here. It’s cramped, but roomier than a coffin.” I attempted a weak laugh, but the joke sounded painfully lame even to my ears. Patsy politely ignored it.

“You should come out to Jules’ tomorrow night. She’s having a Yule party.”

I choked on my cookie. “Jules Dahlberg? Ms. Snootypants?”

She cocked her head, a question in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“She was always so stuck up in high school.” I crumbled a little in the face of Patsy’s bottomless kindness. It did feel immature to cling so tightly onto old memories that I could call up such negative emotion at merely the mention of a name. “Or at least that’s how I remember her. I’m sure she’s way different now.”

Patsy smiled brightly. “You two would get along great. She’d love to have you, I’m sure of it. She was saying how she wished she’d gotten a chance to talk with you at Natalie’s funeral.”

The invitation was kind, and I recognized the need to bury high school grudges, but I felt improbably committed to my vision of myself as the outcast. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave my mom alone.”

“No problem. She’s volunteering at the nativity scene here tomorrow evening, ten o’clock through midnight. She takes over for me. We both play Wise Men.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Would it be okay if I brought a friend?”

“Of course!” Patsy spontaneously hugged me. “It’s really nice to have you back, Mira. I mean that.”

Mom had also signed up to help at the church for the rest of the afternoon and possibly into the evening. I didn’t remember her being so devoted when I lived at home. The church must have filled in the holes that dad and I had left. She said I could either stay and help her to stuff envelopes, or I could pick up some last-minute grocery items for the feast she was making as soon as she could return to the farmhouse. I didn’t want to burst her bubble and tell her that we might be at the hotel for a very long time. Instead, I volunteered to grocery shop.

After I’d bagged the pumpkin pie filling, allspice, and cream of tartar, I felt restless. I returned to the hotel to exercise Luna. Both she and Tiger Pop were thrilled to see me. I brushed them both down before heading with Luna to a nearby park to throw the tennis ball. Her shaggy Shepherd-mix coat kept her warm, and it was glorious to watch her strong, wolf-like body leap into the air. After forty-five minutes of fetch, she sprawled at my feet, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

I brought her back to the hotel but didn’t feel like watching TV. Instead, I drove to River Grove. I had no specific destination in mind and instead cruised the streets, staring at decorations and lunar snow drifts, wondering how a killer chose his victim. The crime scene tape had been removed from the front of Natalie’s home, but the building looked cold and dark inside. I cruised past the candy cane-covered house, slowing down as I passed. It hadn’t changed. It was still loaded with the decorations and still made my stomach turn.

After I’d criss-crossed all of River Grove, I took off for White Plains. The drive was over an hour. I didn’t have a specific destination in mind here, either, though I thought to look for Sharpie’s caramels when I filled up on gas. They weren’t at the first station, or at either of the other two in town. The clerks at all three didn’t remember anyone fitting Sharpie’s description.

When I made it back to the Relax Inn, it was dark, and I was exhausted. A soggy snow had begun to fall. I took Luna for a short walk, the wind icing my eyelashes the whole way. She kept wagging her tail and looking at me as we strolled. I was sure she wanted to know if we were leaving the hotel for good. The room was cramped for a human but doubly small for two animals who couldn’t leave on their own.

“Soon,” I told her. She wagged harder.

When we returned, my mom was in the room, getting ready for bed. She told me Mrs. Berns had called, and that she’d be spending the night at the nursing home. I had an inkling that slumber parties weren’t allowed, but I was equally confident that Mrs. Berns would find a workaround. Mom chattered happily about all the people she’d worked with that day, what their holiday plans were, how grand the nativity scene was going to be. Her voice was soothing. We both avoided discussing the killer, or harder truths such as when we’d be able to check out of the hotel.

Thirty-five

Sunday, December 23, Evening

The flurries are not
thick enough to deter travel, but they do provide a natural camouflage to anyone out walking. The swirling winter crystals frolic under the candy-cane swathed streetlights, playing tricks on the eyes and promising a mythical white Christmas. The snowflakes land with a dancer’s precision on the thatched roof of the nativity bower, others twirling to alight on the manger that will hold baby Jesus.

The killer strolls past the St. Joseph nativity scene staging twice, hands thrust deep in pockets. It looks barren with only the empty manger and straw bales inside. The church rising behind it is grand, pointed spires racing toward the heavens and nearly disappearing into the night sky strung with stars as bright as chips of glass, but the nativity scene is something else. It’s humble and plain. Just as it should be.