Gingerbread Man (38 page)

"No, but I don't see that it matters. Let's
go."

Holly opened her door, and Amanda opened
hers. They stepped out of the car, and pushed the doors closed
again so gently they didn't catch, or make a sound.

It wasn't raining as hard. The trees that
lined the road on both sides grew so thick and lush that they
formed a canopy overhead. Driving this stretch was like driving
through a tunnel. Earlier in the fall, it was a stunning ride, with
the colors bright and fiery. Now, the canopy was intact only where
the evergreens grew. In between, the hard maples, the white-skinned
birches, and the gangly poplars were bare. Skeleton hands joined
above the road as if shaking to seal some macabre bargain. It was
in such a spot Marty had stopped his truck, so a meager amount of
light touched it. It wasn't much, but it allowed them to see shape
and shadow.

Holly's feet made soft squishing sounds in
the mud of the road. She clutched the hammer tighter, tried to walk
more softly. The car was behind them now. They were maybe two
hundred feet from the back of the truck when they heard the soft
crying. The plaintive voice. They were too far away to make out the
words, but the child was obviously begging. Pleading.

Holly went stiff, and some kind of heat rose
up from somewhere deep inside her. It suffused her chest, then
crept up her neck into her face. Her scalp prickled with it, as if
it were trying to burst through. She didn't feel the cold kiss of
the wet night wind anymore. Her shivering stopped. Her hand closed
more tightly around the hammer.

Then Uncle Marty appeared in the open back
door of the truck, with the child tossed carelessly over his
shoulder. Bethany hung oddly, and in a moment Holly realized her
arms and legs must be bound. Marty leaped down, turned to the left,
and stalked off into the woods.

"She was still wearing clothes," Amanda
whispered, moving closer to Holly as the two of them hurried to the
spot where he'd vanished amid the trees.

"The Halloween costume I made for her," Holly
murmured.

"Maybe he hasn't..." Amanda didn't finish the
sentence. Her eyes said enough, and Holly read them clearly and
hoped to God she was right.

They got to the truck, crept to the edge of
the woods. Holly could hear the crashing sounds of Uncle Marty
stomping through the brush. "He's making so much noise he won't
hear us coming. God, where is he taking her?"

"Is Vince coming?" Amanda asked.

"I don't know. The phone died. I don't know
how much of the message he got." She jumped the small ditch on the
roadside, and reached back to help Amanda across.

"We'd better make sure he can find us if he
does come." Amanda reached behind her head, and yanked the snaps
that attached the yellow hood to her raincoat. They were noisy as
they popped apart, but Holly didn't think Marty could hear. Then
Amanda hung the hood from a branch, gave a nod. "At least he'll
know which way we went."

"Come on." Holly led the way, and they moved
quickly, despite the utter darkness, slick ground, and thick
underbrush. Certainly more quickly than a man as physically unfit
as Uncle Marty, carrying a child, could go. Every few steps, they
would stop and listen to the cracking and snapping of brush to be
sure they were moving in the right direction.

It was a long walk.

Finally, they stopped to listen, and didn't
hear any more brush cracking. Instead they heard soft crying, only
a few yards ahead.

It was killing Holly to take her time now, to
move as quietly as possible through the woods. Killing her, because
she kept flashing on images of what that bastard was doing to
Bethany now that he'd stopped walking. It was two minutes before
they reached them. Maybe less. It felt like hours. Every time the
little girl's cries got louder, every time her tone changed, Holly
was sure he was hurting her.

Finally, the woods ended, and they stepped
into a clearing. In the center, in utter darkness, she could make
out the silhouettes. Uncle Marty was hunched over the little girl.
Bethany lay on her back on the ground, sobbing softly and saying,
"I want my mommy. Don't hurt me. My daddy will come, he'll come,
you'll see."

Marty was bending over her, reaching down,
touching her. "From now on, I'm your daddy. Understand? Say it.
Call me daddy. Do it!"

Holly didn't need to see more. "Get your
filthy hands off her, you bastard." She ran at him as she shouted,
lifting the hammer as she did.

He spun before she got to him, swinging a
beefy arm at her. Her hammer connected with his shoulder instead of
his head. Then he punched her in the chest so hard her hand lost
its grip on the hammer as she buckled and dropped to the wet, cold
ground. He looked down at her, hulking over her. "Damn you, Holly,
you never could mind your own business, could you?"

Holly scrambled on her hands and knees until
she was beside Bethany.

"Holly?" the soft voice squeaked.

"It's me, honey. It's all right, it's going
to be all right now." The child pressed herself close to Holly,
sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. She was blindfolded, her hands
still bound, but there was no time to untie her now.

Uncle Marty bent down, picked up the hammer,
and leaned over them. "Well, no matter. I can plant you in my
little garden, too, I suppose." He lifted the hammer, and Holly
folded herself over Bethany to protect her from the coming
blow.

The sound of the impact was dull, and it
cracked. But Holly never felt it land. Stunned, she looked up.
Amanda stood there, the tire iron in her hands. Marty cowered on
the ground at her feet.

"You will never hurt another little girl the
way you hurt me," she said, her voice deep, haunting. Not
high-pitched or hysterical, but level and icy cold.

"No. No!" Marty wailed.

Amanda lifted the tire iron, and brought it
down again. And a third time. The impact sounded wet.

Holly struggled to her feet, gripped Amanda's
hands as she lifted the tire iron overhead yet again, stopping her.
She stared down at Uncle Marty. He lay still on the ground, and his
head was no longer shaped like a head.

"He's dead, Amanda. He's gone; it's all right
now."

"He's dead?"

"Yes. Put it down."

Shaking, Amanda lowered her arms. But she
didn't drop the weapon.

“Holly? Holly, where are you?" On the cold,
wet ground three feet from Marty, Bethany was sitting up, unable to
see them, her hands still bound behind her back.

"Right here, honey. It's all right now."

As she made her way to the child, hugging
Amanda to her side, Holly heard more crashing brush, saw two lights
bobbing closer through the forest. Vince's voice shouted her name.
Holly released Amanda, who only stared blankly at Vince and Jerry
as they burst into the clearing.

She heard sirens as she bent to untie
Bethany's hands. The others couldn't be far behind.

Vince flicked his light around the clearing
until it landed on Holly, and then he came running. He wrapped her
in his arms, and Bethany with her. "I've never been so scared in my
entire life, Red. Jesus, I'm glad you're all right."

"Vince?" That was Jerry's voice now. Holly
looked his way, still locked in Vince's arms, and she saw where his
attention and his light were focused.

Amanda stood over what was left of Marty. His
head didn't look as if it had ever been human. There was blood and
other stuff splattered on the front of Amanda's yellow raincoat,
and she still clutched the tire iron.

More feet came crashing through the
brush.

"Vince?" Holly whispered. "Will they arrest
her? She couldn't bear—"

"It's all right, it's all right." He released
Holly, took his gun from his holster, tossed it to the ground.
Going to Amanda, he gently took the tire iron from her hands. "You
listening Jare?"

"I'm listening."

"I pulled my weapon. Marty knocked it out of
my hands and came after me with—" He glanced at Holly. "Did he have
any other weapon on him?"

"A hammer," she said. "He took it from
me."

He studied Holly's face for a second as she
knelt there with the child, gently removing her blindfold, and
keeping her head from turning toward the ugly scene.

Vince continued. "Marty attacked me with the
hammer, and I clubbed him with the tire iron."

"He got up and came at you and you had to
club him a couple more times, by the look of it, partner."

“Two decorated officers, two eyewitnesses."
Vince tossed the tire iron down. "And my prints on the weapon."

"Open and shut," Jerry said. "I saw the whole
thing."

"Why didn't you draw your own gun and
fire?"

"Kid was too close." Jerry replied.

People swarmed into the clearing. Holly met
Vince's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Get Bethany out of here," Vince said. "I'll
be right behind you."

Holly nodded, gathered Bethany up into her
arms, keeping her head tucked close to her until she got into the
woods, so the little girl wouldn't see what was left of her
attacker.

The child was cold to the touch, utterly
traumatized as she searched Holly's face and then burst into tears.
Holly just held her tight, and closed her eyes. Police officers
crowded around her, but she wouldn't let Bethany go. She waited for
Vince to come with Amanda, just inside the woods beyond the
clearing. Bethany buried her face in the crook of Holly's neck, as
Holly turned to look back.

Cops swarmed past her into the clearing.
There were uniforms everywhere, and men in suits and raincoats as
well. They all had flashlights, and there was a crisscrossing of
beams over the clearing that looked like a checkerboard.

The rain had stopped. And almost as if it
were preordained, the clouds chose that moment to drift apart,
allowing the bright light of the waxing moon to spill down onto the
clearing. Holly wasn't sure what she was seeing when her gaze was
first drawn to the moonlight-washed ground. It was Jerry who said,
"Sweet merciful Christ, do you see what I'm seeing?"

Vince frowned, and looked. He had Amanda
anchored to his side. She wasn't looking at anything at all, just
staring blankly into space. The clearing was not a natural one.
There were mounds in the ground. Neat rows of them. Perfectly
spaced, each roughly the same size and shape. And one hole, freshly
dug—shallow, and open, and waiting. Bethany tried to lift her head,
but Holly held her hand to the back of it. "No, no, baby. You stay
still. I'm taking you back to your mom now, okay? You're gonna be
just fine." Holly's eyes welled with hot tears as she glanced one
last time at the open grave that had been meant for the little girl
in her arms. Vaguely, she wondered which of those graves held Ivy's
body. Her throat closed off at the thought. "You're gonna be just
fine, honey. You're just fine." She spun away and carried the child
rapidly through the woods, away from the nightmare.

* * *

VlNCE CAUGHT UP to Holly before she got back
to the road, extricated the little girl from her arms. "Let me,
hon. It's all right, Bethany," he said. "I've got you. You're safe
now."

She hugged his neck, and Holly linked her
arms through one of his. "What about Amanda?"

"Jerry and the chief are bringing her out.
She seems to want to move slowly. No one wants to push her right
now."

He carried the child out of the woods, onto
the muddy excuse for a road, and into the flood of flashing lights.
Holly kept her body pressed to his side. She had to be close, had
to be touching him. Two ambulances were waiting on the narrow dirt
road.

"I'm scared," Bethany whimpered. "I'm so
scared."

"You don't have to be afraid anymore," Holly
told her, her voice gentle, soothing. "It's over now, this
nightmare is all over. You're safe now, I promise."

"You came for me," Bethany went on. "I'm so
glad you really came for me. Holly."

An attendant came running from the back of an
ambulance with a blanket, as the three of them stepped into the
flood of light. He wrapped it around Bethany as she shivered.

"This man is going to take you to your mom,
okay?" Vince said to the child.

Bethany looked afraid, wide eyes shooting to
Holly's then to Vince's, as if asking them to come with her. But
then Vince saw yet another vehicle pull in—Ernie Graycloud's car.
The doors opened. The doctor got out of one side and a man he'd
never seen before helped a woman get out of the other. He
recognized the woman, guessed the man to be her husband.

"Looks like your mom decided to come to you
instead, Bethany," Vince told the child. He nodded toward the
woman, and Bethany looked.

"Mommy! Daddy!" She twisted out of Vince's
arms and ran, letting the blanket fall away behind her. Val Stevens
was running, too, arms open, and then she was on her knees,
heedless of the mud, hugging her little girl, sobbing, speaking too
quickly to be understood. Her husband came, too, wrapping his arms
around them both, drawing his wife gently to her feet.

Graycloud met Vince's eyes, gave him a nod.
Vince put an arm around Holly's shoulders, grateful to have one arm
free to hug her with, as they met the old man halfway.

"Get them straight back to the hospital,"
Vince said. "This is no place for that kid. We'll be along."

"Holly?" the doctor asked, a brow
crooked.

"I'm okay. Amanda, too. Physically, at
least."

"She's going to be fine," Vince assured the
doctor. "They both are."

Graycloud nodded, turning toward the reunited
family, urging them back toward his car. But Val Stevens stopped
with her daughter wrapped tight around her, and then she turned
back toward Holly with her tears still flowing full force. "I can't
find the words ... there aren't any words, Holly."