Gingerbread Man (12 page)

"No. Both Kelly and Tara moved away right
after Kelly dropped out of high school. Broke Aunt Jen's heart."
She sighed. "I miss them. Those were some of our best times, back
then, when they were home, and Ivy was still here. I don't think
they minded so much having little tag-alongs in the summer. They
used to put makeup on us, and fix our hair."

Vince could see her remembering now. The way
her gaze turned inward, the way her eyes seemed distant. "That last
summer, I got my own library card. I took the book out of the
library for Ivy.
The Gingerbread Man.
It was her favorite
story. She used to sing that stupid song until I wanted to pinch
her lips shut." She shook her head slowly. "She loved the book so
much she managed to hide it in with her things when we went home,
instead of returning it to the library with the other books. She
thought she could keep it."

Vince listened carefully, and he tried to
find that objectivity he'd developed over the years. But it was
nowhere in sight His defenses had been torn down by the Prague
kids. And now Holly Newman's pain was running rampant over his
soul, even though she kept it very well hidden. Or tried to...

"I found that same book at a crime scene," he
said, keeping his tone steady, as gentle as possible. "Which
strongly suggests it might be the same killer. In fact, it almost
has to be."

Holly gave him a puzzled frown. "I guess you
didn't get all the way through those files," she said.

"No, not all the way. Not yet. Why?"

"The man who took Ivy is doing life without
parole in Auburn."

Vince couldn't hide his shock. "That's
impossible."

"It's a fact." She sipped more water. "It
must be a sick coincidence. Some other child got a copy of the same
book—"

"From the same library? No, Holly. No. The
Prague kids had no connection to this town. And besides, that book
was taken out in September, nineteen eighty-three, according to the
date stamped on the card pocket."

She shook her head. "It's a mistake..."

"It's the same book. And if it's the same
book, it's the same predator."

She locked her gaze with his. "No."

"It has to be. Holly, I know this isn't easy,
but try to see what's staring you in the face, here. They could
have the wrong man in prison for killing your sister."

"He confessed," she said.

The wheels that had been turning so rapidly
in Vince's mind came to a grinding halt. "Confessed?"

She nodded, placing her hands flat on the
table, getting slowly to her feet. "And then we finally managed to
put some closure on things, and to try to move on with our lives.
The book is a coincidence. A sick, twisted, painful irony, but a
coincidence. And now that you know that, you should leave here and
take all of this with you. Because I can't deal with it again. I
won't."

He got up as well, went to her, gripped her
shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know this is hard. But, Red,
look at you. You didn't deal with it the first time. And I didn't
bring this anguish to you. It's been living right here, inside you,
for all these years, because you won't let it out. And if you don't
pretty soon, it's gonna destroy you. Trust me on this. I know."

She tipped her head up, searched his face.
"How do you know?"

He closed his eyes. "I just do."

He felt her hand on his cheek, and opened his
eyes again. "I see," she said. "So there's pain in your past, too."
She shook her head. "I would think you, of all people, would
understand my need to let this stay where it belongs, dead and
buried."

He watched her, the determination in her
face, the firm set of her jaw. "The only pain in my past is that
I've seen too many people I cared about self-destruct because they
couldn't deal. You can, I'm convinced you can. You're not weak or
fragile at all, are you? You're tough, and you're smart. And
stubborn and pushy and bossy. But when it comes to this—you're
still playing the victim. And it's against your nature. You
can
deal with it. But you won't."

"I was over it," she insisted. “I was. I was
fine until you came."

"You were ignoring it. There's a
difference."

Headlights gleamed through the windows. Holly
stiffened and turned away. "Don't say a word of this to my mother.
Do you understand, Vince? She barely survived losing Ivy—and then
Dad. She's been through enough."

He nodded, picked up the file. "If you don't
want her to know anything's wrong—"

She pressed a hand to her face. "God, she
can't see me like this. Tell her... tell her I'm feeling better and
taking a shower."

With that, she ran for her bedroom. Leaving
Vince to tell the lie. Hell, he could see no reason to bring her
mother into this. Not yet. Holly had just shot a pretty big hole in
his theory. But he knew in his gut there was some connection, and
he was damned well going to find out what.

The front door opened, and Doris walked in.
Chief Mallory stood outside the door, hat in his hand. "Come in for
coffee?" she asked.

He looked past her, nodded hello to Vince.
"No. It's late, you'd better get some rest."

She leaned up to kiss the chief briefly on
the mouth, then turning, finally acknowledged Vince's presence.
"How is Holly doing?"

"She's feeling better. She decided to take a
shower."

Doris twisted her wrist to look at her watch.
"At one
am?

"Go figure," Vince said. He clutched the
envelope close to his chest and moved toward the door. "I should
go, now that you're home. Do me a favor, Doris, and lock up from
now on. Okay?"

She made a face. "I suppose it's a bit
self-deluding to go through life thinking I don't have to worry
about break-ins out here."

"You're right, it is," Mallory said.

Doris sighed, nodded, then paused as Vince
passed. "What's that you have, Vince?"

He glanced down at the envelope. "Oh. Just
some research on the case I was working before I took my vacation.
I don't want to be behind when I get back on the job."

"My goodness, you certainly are
conscientious."

"I try to be, ma'am. Good night." He stepped
out onto the porch beside Chief Mallory, and Doris closed the door.
He listened for the locks, heard them turning, and knew Mallory was
listening, too.

As he started for the car, a heavy hand fell
on his shoulder. "Just a minute, son."

Vince paused. Mallory took the envelope from
him, turned it over, and looked at the name on the front. Vince let
him. He could have stopped him easily, but he'd pretty much decided
that it was time to bring the chief in on this whole thing.

"That's about what I thought. So what are you
really doing out here, besides digging into someone's private
hell?" Before Vince could answer, the chief said, "This have to do
with those two kids who were murdered up your way?"

Startled, Vince said, "How did you know?"

"I'm the police chief of a small town,
O'Mally. That doesn't necessarily mean I'm dumb as a post. That
story was all over the news. I saw your picture in the paper. I
knew damn well that lame stolen car tale you spun in my office was
bullshit. But what's the connection with the library book?"

Vince took back his envelope, and he and
Mallory walked side by side to the waiting cars. "It was found at
the crime scene." He opened his car door, tossed the fat envelope
onto the seat. "Have you found out who last took it out of the
library?"

The chief nodded. "Holly did. Just a few
weeks before her sister was taken. But you already knew that,
didn't you, O'Mally?"

"I was pretty sure of it, yes," Vince
admitted.

"So what's the connection? Ivy Newman's
murderer is in prison—confessed to the crime. Even led the police
into the woods up north to show them where he dumped the body."

Vince's head came up fast. "And did they find
it?"

Chief Mallory shook his head. "No. Apparently
he'd buried her somewhere in the Adirondaks. They searched several
sites, but you know how it is up there. Lake after lake, and they
all look pretty much the same."

Vince's jaw tightened. "There's a connection.
I'll find it." He got into his Jeep.

"Vince." The chief held on to Vince's door,
leaning in. "Does Holly know what you're doing?"

"She does now."

"How long has she known?"

Vince knew exactly what the man was getting
at. "About an hour now. Chief, whatever is wrong with Holly was
wrong with her before I started digging into this. If something has
set her off, it's something besides me."

"And her mother?"

"She doesn't know anything. Holly asked me
not to tell her and at the moment, I see no reason to."

"You watch your step with Holly—be careful
with her," Mallory warned.

He nodded. "I intend to be." But as he
started the engine, he thought Holly Newman was one hell of a lot
stronger than these people gave her credit for. The trick was in
making
her
see that.

This was a puzzle. And Holly Newman was more
than just one of the pieces. She was the key that would make all
the others fit.

CHIEF JIM MALLORY looked around the table at
the men he'd asked to come to his home in the middle of a Saturday
night. Each had a beer, but he would see to it they didn't have a
second one before they left.

To his right, the town's aging doctor sipped
his beer slowly from the bottle, and punctuated each sip with a
fistful of chips from the bowl on the table. Ernie Graycloud was
thirty pounds overweight, and wore his long, silvered hair pulled
back in a ponytail, day in, day out. His face was starting to
wrinkle, but it still bore the copper hue and the straight large
nose that would identify him as Indian even to those who hadn't yet
heard his name. He bragged that he was pureblood Cayuga, but the
chief doubted anyone in this part of the state was pureblood
anything at this point in history. Ernie was the finest doctor he'd
ever known, though. And a good friend, besides.

So was the other man at the table, Marty
Cantrell. He drank his beer in long, loving drafts that were few
and far between. He looked worried, pensive.

"You didn't tell me your reasons for calling
this meeting in your phone message," Marty said to Jim.

"I didn't want to leave the details on your
machine," Jim explained.

"No matter. I think I can guess. That cop,
Vince O'Mally, down from Syracuse. He's poking around in things
that don't concern him, isn't he?"

Jim Mallory nodded. "I'm afraid so."

"I knew there was some reason he was getting
so chummy with my niece. I don't like it. I don't like it a
bit."

"I don't like it any better than you do,
Marty."

Ernie Graycloud was looking from one of them
to the other. "I still don't understand. What is it you think he
wants? Ivy's case is solved. It's closed. What can he do by digging
all this up now?"

"I'll tell you what he can do," Marty said.
"He can send my niece over the edge, straight into a mental ward."
Marty looked the doctor dead in the eyes. "Tell me you don't think
it's possible, Ernie. Say something, for crying out loud; you're
her doctor."

Ernie lowered his gaze. "I don't know. I
think she's stronger than we realize, but this ... yeah. If he
forces her to relive that time in her life, it could push her too
far."

"So, just what is it he wants, that's worth
torturing Holly that way?" Marty asked softly. "Jim? Has he
confided in you, at all?"

The chief sighed heavily. "Yeah. There were a
couple of kids murdered in Syracuse. It was his case. He found some
things he thought linked the crime to Dilmun, and then when he
found out about what happened to Holly's little sister, he thought
there might be a connection."

Doc Graycloud frowned. "What could he have
found to tie the Syracuse murders to Dilmun?"

"Come on, Ernie, you know I can't tell you
that." The chief sipped his beer while the other two stared at him.
"I will say it's pretty compelling. I don't blame him for wanting
to follow up on it."

Marty set his beer bottle on the table. "I
blame him. The man who killed little Ivy is in prison. That ought
to be enough to convince this O'Mally he's on the wrong trail."

"That's not our concern. Our concern is
Holly. This isn't going to be good for her," Doc warned.

"It's already causing problems," Marty said,
leaning back in his chair. "Doris says Holly's been counting again.
Having trouble sleeping. How long before the nightmares come back
as well?" He shook his head slowly. "She left the bonfire early,
said she wasn't feeling well."

Jim sighed again. "Yeah, and then there was
the incident out at the cabin."

"What incident?" Doc asked, snapping to
attention.

"She thought she saw someone moving around
inside. She panicked. Vince got back and checked the place out, but
there wasn't a sign anyone had been anywhere near it The door was
still locked."

"You think she imagined it?" Doc asked.

"I don't know what to think," Jim said
slowly. He looked at Marty. "Doc and I have only been close with
Holly and Doris for five years. Marty, you've been with them
straight through the worst of it. Was there a time, even at her
worst, where Holly was hallucinating?"

Marty's lips pulled tight. "She was a little
girl who saw her kid sister get snatched, and then never saw her
again. Yeah, she hallucinated. There were night terrors. There was
survivor's guilt. There were panic attacks, and bed-wetting, and
insomnia, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. There were doctors and
more doctors, drugs and more drugs. Nothing helped, not for ten
freaking years, until that son of a bitch confessed. That was when
she finally started to put her life back together. She lost her dad
soon after that, and it set her back, but she pulled out of it. I
thought... dammit, I really thought it was finally behind her."