Gingerbread Man (10 page)

Vince nodded. On the far side of the fire,
Reginald D'Voe was still surrounded by kids, his niece at his side,
as he read to them from one of the books. He used his hands
expressively, and his face, bathed in the red-orange glow of the
firelight, conveyed one emotion after another. Vince couldn't hear
him, but found himself almost wanting to pull up a lawn chair and
listen in. Amanda seemed rapt. "How old is she?"

"I don't know. Around my age, I guess." Holly
tipped her head up slightly so she was looking him in the eye. "You
really can go talk to her if you want. I wasn't being flip when I
said I didn't care. I only asked you to come here tonight because
my mother backed me into a corner. It won't bother me in the
least."

He arched a brow, focusing on Holly now. "I
think I've just been insulted."

She dropped her gaze. "Don't take it
personally, Vince. You're just not my type."

He almost smiled. She was a lousy liar. When
he'd first arrived, he'd seen her watching the cabin so hard her
eyes must have been watering. She was attracted to him. He felt it
like an energy sparking from her skin when she got within a few
feet of him. He felt it now. It was setting off his warning
systems, telling him to back off. Hell, he was attracted to her,
too. There was an almost magnetic pull between them as they slow
danced to the old Eagles tune. He had to exert an effort to keep
space between their bodies. But he'd expected that. She was needy.
He was always drawn to women like her. Usually to his own
detriment. It was good she was denying the heat. Nothing could come
of it.

"So, tell me how your mother managed to force
you into inviting me to this thing, Red."

She sighed. "Mom wanted to know what I was
doing out at your place earlier, when 1 saw ... whatever the hell I
saw."

"And you didn't want to tell her you were
snooping?"

She widened her eyes and put on the phoniest
innocent expression he'd ever seen—and he'd seen plenty—then she
quickly lowered her head. As if she knew he could see through the
act. "I wasn't snooping. Exactly. But Mom would have blown it all
out of proportion and started worrying about me if I had tried to
explain."

"Seems like a lot of people do a lot of
worrying about you," he said.

She shook her head. "Not because I enjoy it,
believe me. At any rate, my mother assumed I'd been at your place
because I had a crush on you. I decided to let her go with that.
It's better for her than the alternative. And that led to
this."

He nodded slowly. "That almost makes
sense."

"What do you mean, almost?"

She tipped her face up to ask the question,
and he felt his body react again. He hadn't noticed the ripeness of
her lips before. They were full. Plump and juicy looking. He forced
his eyes up to hers instead. He was a cop and she knew something
connected to the crime he was here to investigate. He felt it right
to his toes. He needed to focus on that and nothing else. Anything
else was too dangerous.
She
was too dangerous. She had
secrets. Those haunted eyes told him so. Maybe he needed to remind
himself of that—maybe once she verified it for him, his body would
listen to the warnings his mind was sending. And maybe her secrets
were all tied in with his case.

"Why does your mom worry so much about you,
Red? I mean, what would she have thought about your coming out to
my place to spy on me that would have caused her undue
concern?"

She only shrugged, but she looked away from
his eyes, he noticed. "Mom's a worrier."

"I think there's more to it than that."

"What makes you think so?"

"I've seen enough to know a woman with a past
when I see one. I think you have a history, Holly Newman."

She shot him a look that should have knocked
him flat. Like a bullet. "So what if I do?"

"I want to know about it"

She shook her head. "Don't go there,
Vince."

He held her gaze for a long moment. It was
deep and shuttered. And more. It was afraid. "Why not? What do you
have to hide?"

She jerked free of him, stood there with her
hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I don't want to talk about
it."

He shrugged. "I am a cop, you know. I can
find out anyway."

She looked suddenly stricken. As if he'd
scraped a nerve with a sharp blade. A throat cleared beside them,
but Vince didn't shift his gaze. It was still locked with hers.

"Is, uh, everything okay here? Holly?"

She looked away first. "Fine, Uncle Marty,"
she said. Her voice was a little coarse.

"You don't look fine." He glanced at Vince.
"This guy giving you a hard time, honey?"

Vince waited, watched her face. It was
amazing the way she could compose it. Within a second the agitation
was gone, and an easy smile replaced it. She looked at her uncle,
and sighed. "Oh, it's not him. Heck, him I can handle. But I'm not
feeling very well for some reason. I think I'm going to go on
home."

"Want me to call Doc Graycloud over here?
Have him take a look at you?"

"No. I'll just go say good night to Mom.
Enjoy the rest of the party, you two." She didn't look at Vince
again before she turned and walked away.

Her uncle did, however. And his expression
wasn't kind. "You know, her father died in ninety-four," Marty
said. "So it's up to me to look out for her."

Vince met the guy's stare. "Look, I know
where this is going—"

"Do you? Then you know that I'm going to tell
you I don't think it's a real good idea for you to be seeing my
niece. I tried to tell you to be gentle, take it slow, but it
doesn't look to me like you listened very well."

Vince shook his head. "You've got it all
wrong. She's not my type, Marty."

"No? Then it shouldn't be any hardship to
stay away from her. Look, Vince, I like you. But Holly—she's been
through a lot. I'm not going to stand by and see her get hurt
again. I'm not sure she could take it."

"What, exactly, is it that she's been through
that has everyone in this town hovering over her as if she might
crack at any moment?" Vince snapped. "If you don't mind my asking,
I mean," he added, not bothering to hide the sarcasm.

"I do mind your asking." Marty looked mean
for just a moment, leaning closer. Then he caught himself, backed
off and pushed a hand through his scant hair while blowing out a
sigh. "Sorry. It's a family matter. A private one, and we don't
talk about it. Just do what I tell you, okay? Trust me on this,
Vince. It's for the best." He patted Vince once on the shoulder,
then turned and headed back to where his wife was talking and
laughing with some neighbors near the fire.

Okay, fine, Vince thought. He had a big fat
envelope in his car right now that might very well have plenty to
say on the matter. In fact, judging from Holly's reaction when he'd
suggested checking official records to get her story, he was
ninety-nine percent sure he would find something. Maybe everything.
And suddenly he was dying to get some down time so he could read
every word. He started to leave, but got waylaid every ten steps by
locals wanting to chat. Friendly bunch, or maybe just curious. They
all asked plenty of questions, he thought. Any one of them could
have ulterior motives.

Ernie Graycloud held him up the longest. He
was obviously Native American—he reminded Vince of the fellow who
used to do the pollution commericals in the seventies. Long hair,
black with streaks of silver, pulled behind his head and tied with
a leather band. He wore faded jeans and a denim jacket.

"You're the cop, right?" he asked. He stepped
into Vince's path and asked the question. Just like that

"Did someone pin a sign on my back, or
what?"

"No need. Small town. I'm the local M.D.,
Ernie Gray-cloud." He thrust out a hand.

"Vince O'Mally, in case you didn't know."
Vince shook his hand.

"You look like you're leaving," Graycloud
said.

"Yeah, I was hoping to turn in early," he
lied.

"But you don't want to do that yet. You'll
miss the best part of the autumn bonfire if you do. I bring my
drums every year, lead the kids, and most of the grown-ups, too,
around the bonfire in a tribal dance taught to me by my
grandmother."

"Wow, that must be something to see."

"Oh, it is." He leaned closer, as if sharing
a deep secret. "Now D'Voe, over there, he thinks his spooky stories
are the highlight of the bonfire. But in truth, it's the drumming
and the dance."

"Sounds like you have a little friendly
rivalry going."

Graycloud nodded, grinning. "You shouldn't
miss it."

He was honestly tempted to hang around. But
those files were calling to him. Before he had to make up an
excuse, though, someone called his name.

He turned at the soft voice. Doris Newman
stood behind him. "I need a word with you."

He glanced back at Graycloud, who nodded
once, and walked away with a wave. Then he turned back to Doris,
noting her tight expression. "What is it?" he asked.

"I'm worried about Holly," she said.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. She said she
didn't feel well and wanted to go home." He looked past Doris but
didn't see Holly anywhere in the crowd.

"Yes, I know, but I don't like the idea of
her walking home alone. Not after that intruder she thought she saw
at your cabin yesterday."

Vince felt his brows draw together, and his
gaze shifted to the dark, winding road in the distance. "She's
walking?"

"She left already. I couldn't talk her out of
it—I swear that girl can be so stubborn."

He nodded, tried not to look as exasperated
as he felt. "I'll go after her," he said. "Don't worry, I'll see
her safely home." He thought about adding, "and don't tell your
brother-in-law," but decided against it

Doris smiled, looking relieved. He might have
suspected her of matchmaking, but there was something in her face.
Something truly concerned. It was like a very dim reflection of
Sara Prague's face, looking at him from across his desk, asking him
to find her children. And just like before, he promised he would
make it okay. The realization made his stomach twist painfully.
Damn, when was he going to learn?

"Thank you, Vince," Doris told him. "You're a
good man. I can tell."

***

HOLLY LEFT THE party earlier than she'd
expected. She had never done that before in the five years she and
her mother had lived here. It wasn't a part of the detailed plans
she'd made for tonight. She'd had it all worked out. After all,
annual events weren't as easily controlled as daily ones. You could
get into a habit, a routine, of doing certain things in a certain
order every day, until it became second nature. But events that
only happened once a year took more time. More effort. She was
supposed to have spent a half hour catching up with Uncle Marty and
Aunt Jen. She was supposed to have taken a minute to talk with Doc
Graycloud. And she had planned to spend some time with Bethany,
too, to start planning that Halloween costume, so she could go in
search of a pattern on her Sunday shopping trip with Mom.

But, no. No, her well-laid plan was
destroyed, her carefully calculated outline of the evening's
activities, torn to bits. All because of Vince O'Mally.

What interest could he possibly have in her
past?

She walked away from the lake, from the cars
in the lot, from the cabins. She walked until the fire's glow no
longer reached her. The road was dark. No streetlights, not here.
And no stars tonight, either. It was as if the sky matched her
mood. Dark.

That cop was up to something. Something
involving her, and her past, and that book. That damned book. That
damned, damned, damned book. It had triggered something, when she'd
heard the title of the missing book. It had set things into motion
in her mind, things she'd locked away and managed to keep contained
for a long, long time.

A little girl's voice started singing in her
mind.
Run, run, run, fast as you can
—

"No," Holly whispered. But it came again.
You can't catch me
—

She pressed her hands to her ears, closed her
eyes. "No, no, dammit, no!" She wasn't going to think about it, she
wasn't. It was in the past, and that was where it belonged. But
then she was gone, sinking into an abyss of memory, and suddenly
she was small, and carrying a backpack as she walked. The gravel
was replaced by a sidewalk, the night sky by daylight. And a little
girl with dimples and blue eyes and golden blonde hair in braids
skipped along beside her, clutching a copy of her favorite book in
her hands ... and she was singing ...

"Run, run, run, fast as you can, you can't
catch me, I'm the gingerbread man. "

Ivy sang the words she'd memorized from
her favorite story as they walked home from school together. Holly
used to walk home alone, but now that Ivy was in kindergarten, she
had to walk with her. She was
supposed
to hold her little
sister's hand all the way, but she rarely did so until they got
within sight of the house.

"I can't believe you brought that book home,
Ivy. It was supposed to be returned to the library before we came
back from the lake!"

"I wanted to keep it."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but it was
on my library
card. I only just got it this year. If you
don't return your books on time, they don't let you take out any
more."

Ivy looked up at her sister, her huge eyes
wide. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Holly."

Holly softened. The kid looked near tears.
"Never mind. I guess it'll be okay, so long as we take it back next
time we go down to the lake."

"Yeah!" Ivy smiled, her worry gone, and
continued walking with her big sister, until Holly turned left
instead of going straight at the end of the block.