“Nope. Other than the one where I smelled cigarette smoke, nothing. Can you believe I suddenly have smell-o-vision?” Then I laughed because the idea was positively absurd.
But he gave me his “quit fooling around, Hal” look. “I’ve got some new information.”
“Are you afraid to share? Because of the lipstick leak?”
Stiles squeezed my shoulder. “I know that wasn’t you, Hal. But somebody has a mole. I don’t know if it’s in Marshmallow Hollow or one of the other stations, but what I can tell you is, it’s not a good look no matter who has the leak.”
Well, at least my best friend in the whole wide world didn’t think I was a traitor. “So what’s up? I know this is tricky for you, and we can’t ever tell your buddies at the station about my visions, but I think you know they’ve been helpful and that you can trust me. Always. No matter what.”
He chucked me under the chin and grinned. “’Course I know that, Kitten. But I have to be careful, is all. I can’t afford to be caught, even if I know, without a shadow of a doubt, your visions are never wrong. Otherwise, they’ll be labeling me the mole.”
Rubbing my mitten-covered hands together, I nodded. “Then if you’d rather not tell me, I get it.”
“We found a smashed taillight in the parking lot of Feeney’s, buried under the snow.”
“How does that relate to the crime? It could be anybody’s.”
His chiseled features held concern. “It has Kerry Carver’s skin on it… I don’t know how it managed not to end up damaged in the snowfall, but it’s her DNA. No doubt.”
My blood ran cold. “Holy coconuts. Does that mean she tried to kick her way out of the trunk? Can we hope maybe she got away?” I prayed that was true. I prayed Kerry had put up a bloody stink of a fight.
“That’s one theory. We have someone checking the make and model of the car it came from, but it would be a new-ish car. Older cars weren’t designed the way they are nowadays, with abductions in mind.”
Abductions…
Another chill attacked my spine and my arms, making me shiver. Those missing girls had taken up a fair amount of space in my head, their faces floating around in my mind’s eye.
Which reminded me, I needed to tell Stiles about our meeting with that weasel Westcott. Maybe it could help the police with something we’d missed. He’d constructed a possible pattern that at least made sense.
“So are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
He clucked his tongue as people passed by and the excitement for the tree lighting grew. “How about you tell me what you’re thinking, and I’ll tell you if it’s what I’m thinking.”
I paused for a moment, hoping to get my thoughts together and convey them in full sentences. “Do you think Kerry’s abduction was on that SD card or maybe Gable saw her with the killer? But that makes no sense because nothing was reported. I have to believe if Gable thought something was amiss, he’d have called the police, Stiles. But maybe he was somehow in the way of the killer getting the SD card? Like, wrong time, wrong place? I mean, maybe she was in the trunk of the car and the killer realized he’d be caught on camera so he went back the next day to get it? Mr. Feeney did tell you he only checks the tapes every two or three days, right?”
“There’s a reason we’re BFFs. That’s exactly what I was thinking. What we’re all thinking at the station, too. Mr. Feeney said because almost nothing happens around Marshmallow Hollow, he doesn’t feel like it’s necessary to check the tapes that often.”
My stomach twisted into a knot. “Any more information from Kerry’s parents?”
He sucked his teeth. “Godfrey went to see them today to question them, but they didn’t give us much. As far as they’re concerned, she’s a good girl who would never worry them like this if she could help it. And if we take into account her work ethic from the people she babysat for, and her school records, they’re right.”
I told him about our meeting with Westcott Morgan and the article he’d written on the disappearance of two more girls before Kerry, but he appeared to know about the others who were missing…he just wasn’t admitting he knew.
“So you know about the other girls?”
He kept his answer very vague and PC. “We’re definitely aware of them and there’s a definite pattern, but it’s not like anyone’s shown up dead. We have no bodies. No leads, according to the police departments in the towns they live in. It’s the same story as Kerry Carver’s disappearance.”
I didn’t want to get into Westcott Morgan’s accusation against the police. It still made me angry he’d written the article for controversy rather than finding out who’d taken these young women.
Again, my stomach jumped and churned, reminding me I’d had smoked sausage for dinner. “So, what then? They just fell off the face of the Earth?”
“It feels like that sometimes, doesn’t it?” Stiles asked, his face grim under the Christmas lights of the gazebo. “Okay, look, that’s all I have for now, and you need to go enjoy the Christmas tree lighting with your new love.”
“He’s not my new love. We’re…”
Stiles smiled at me, tucking my hair back under my hat. “Your heart is open but with heavy caution signs flashing because of that slug, Hugo. I get it. I’m just saying, seeing you guys together this last week or so has been nice. You work. I love that for you.”
My cheeks flushed and suddenly, even in the bitter cold of twenty degrees, I was warm. “But I have things I have to confess before I can explore this, Stiles. That takes trust.”
“I know, and I understand, especially after that dink Hugo. I’ve got your back, no matter what, Kitten. If you need me to back up you and your visions, I’m there.”
I grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Same goes for me. Now, are we going to watch a Christmas tree lighting or what?”
He laughed at my enthusiasm, knowing full well I loved this part of the Marshmallow Hollow annual festivities. “Go find Hobbs. You should experience his first time seeing it with him, not your boring best friend.”
The mayor had just taken her place on the gazebo by the big switch to light the tree. “Come with me,” I encouraged with a smile. “We’ll all watch together.”
I pulled him along behind me, back to where I’d left Hobbs, who had his phone camera ready to take video of the event for Uncle Monty and Darling.
I scoped out the crowd, looking for familiar faces, and happened to see Westcott Morgan and Abraham Weller. Not together, though those two birds should definitely flock together.
No, they were each in different areas. One forced to write about the mundane local Christmas tree lighting, the other probably praying someone was bonked on the head by one of the Christmas ornaments and got a concussion he could turn into a lawsuit.
Mayor Bader grabbed the mic, a screeching sound emitting from it before she spoke, taking my mind completely off those two slugs. “All right, Marshmallow Hollow, are you ready for the fifty-second annual Christmas tree lighting?” she asked, her voice tight with excitement.
We all cheered and whistled our encouragement as the crowd began the countdown. Happy faces shone under the gazebo lights, children danced in excitement, the air was filled with the scent of the ocean, freshly baked cookies and hot pretzels.
I guess I hadn’t forgotten how much I’d missed this, so much as I’d set it aside in favor of trying to begin a life in a big city. Maybe I’d only tucked it away when I lived in New York. Seeing my friends and employees so joyful, smiles wreathing their faces, I was glad I’d come back. And I was also glad to be sharing this moment with Hobbs.
“Three, two, one!” everyone yelled.
Mayor Bader flipped the switch, illuminating the tree—and it was glorious. Fifty feet of green fir, covered in lights and ornaments the size of soccer balls.
“Now, that’s nothing like back home,” Hobbs murmured with vivid wonder in his tone and on his handsome face as he smiled at everyone around him, cheering and laughing. “It’s
like out of a movie.”
“It’s really something, isn’t it?” I said with a happy sigh, enjoying a brief moment of relief from everything—my uncle’s surgery, the worry he’d be hunted down for what he might know, and the tragic death of Gable Norton.
Hobbs gazed down at me, and while a melancholy “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” played, the dulcet tones of Karen Carpenter in my ears and the lights from the tree shone down on us, he cupped my cheek and bent down to kiss me…and I rose up on my tiptoes to meet his lips.
It was the briefest of kisses, certainly appropriate for a PDA, but it did things to my toes and my stomach I can’t quite put into words. Things I’d never experienced in this way before.
When he pulled away, he smiled down at me, and I got lost in the moment and the warmth of his eyes.
So lost, I almost didn’t hear someone scream. Like, really let one rip—loud and long—making us all turn to see what the commotion was about.
Right there, in the middle of the crowd of people at the square, a woman collapsed, half-dressed, her remaining clothing torn.
Just crumpled into a heap of tattered limbs and snow.
Both Hobbs and I went running toward her as the crowd backed away. I was the first to get to her, falling to my knees and pulling off my jacket to cover her half-naked body.
Dear Goddess, she was a mess. Her hair was glued to her face, covering her eyes, her body bruised and battered and so very fragile, it hurt to look at her. And her feet were bare and torn to shreds.
“I’ll call nine-one-one!” Hobbs yelled over the shrieks of the crowd.
In mere seconds, my fellow townsfolk were taking their coats off to cover her; one mother offered her baby’s blanket.
I hauled her up next to me, shivering from the wind that picked up and the falling snowflakes, until Hobbs pulled off his jacket and threw it around my shoulders.
And as I looked down at this battered, bedraggled young woman who hung lifelessly in my arms, her skin like ice, her clothes ripped, I pushed her dark hair from her scratched-up cheek and gasped.
The girl I held in my arms was none other than Kerry Carver.
Chapter 13
O Christmas Tree (O Tannenbaum)
Written in 1824 by Ernst Anschutz
Hobbs handed me some hospital coffee from a dispenser he’d gone and found. It was indeed hot, but it was awful. I fought the taste of the bitter liquid as it slipped down my throat.
We sat in the Marshmallow Hollow emergency room lobby, where yet another attempt at decorating for Christmas fell flat against the pale blue walls and pictures of scenic views in town. But I had to admire their attempt to make this place a little more cheerful.
“Are you warm enough, Hal?” Hobbs asked, sliding into the gray seat next to me.
I tucked the hospital blanket around me and nodded. “I’m good. Have you seen anyone come out yet? I feel like she’s been in there for a hundred years.”
“No. But she was still alive, Hal. She was still breathing. You have to hang on to that.” He took my icy hand in his and rubbed it with his warmer one.
I thought it ironic Hobbs knew exactly how I was feeling, but I rather liked that he understood me that well, so new into our developing relationship.
“I know she was alive, but just barely. She escaped something evil, Hobbs. I know it. But what and who?”
“Realistically, it’s going to be a while before we know. While alive, she was in pretty rough shape, Hal. Who knows when the police will be able to talk to her.”
That reminded me about the taillight they’d found at Feeney’s. “Stiles told me they found a broken taillight at Feeney’s with her DNA on it, Hobbs.” That gave me hope; she was a fighter. “Just like the lipstick. Whoever killed Gable had her.” I shivered, and this time I couldn’t hide the violent shake of my body.
Hobbs wrapped his arm around my shoulders and rubbed my upper arm. “How about I take you home where you can warm up? Maybe take a hot bath and have some decent coffee?”
“No. I’m waiting here until I know she’s okay, Hobbs. I’m fine, just chilled to the bone.”
The picture of that poor girl, half-dressed and beaten bloody, made me want to curl up in the corner and sob, but I wasn’t budging until I knew someone was here for her, and I also knew she was going to be okay. If no one showed up, I’d find a way to make sure I was the face she saw when she woke.
Please, please, please let her wake up.
Hobbs didn’t try to change my mind, but he did encourage me to drink my awful coffee. “Drink up. It’ll warm you.”
The doors of the ER lobby swished open and a middle-aged woman and a man stumbled in, their faces harried, their steps quick.
When they approached the receptionist’s desk, the woman—in a gray tweed, thigh-length coat, her eyes tired and hair mussed—gripped the countertop. “We’re here for our daughter, Kerry Carver. Where is she? Can we please see her?”
The receptionist shook her head. “Not just yet, Mrs. Carver. Please have a seat, and I promise I’ll let you know the minute I know anything, okay? While you do that, can I get you something?”
Mr. Carver bristled, anxious and clearly scared and worried. “My daughter!”
Hobbs rose instantly and called his name. “Mr. Carver? I’m Hobbs Dainty, and this is Hal Valentine. Hal’s the one who helped your daughter and kept her warm until the police arrived. Why don’t you come sit with us? I’d be happy to get you both something warm to drink—or cold, if you’d prefer.”
Mrs. Carver ran toward me, her eyes tear-filled and thick with sorrow as she knelt in front of me. “How did this happen? Is she okay?”
She grabbed my hands, her pleading words tearing at my heart. I didn’t want to mislead them. Kerry had been in pretty bad shape when I was with her, but she’d had a pulse, and though her breathing was feathery and light, she was still alive.
I squeezed her cold hands and looked her in the eye. “We don’t know anything yet. She showed up in the middle of the square, and I won’t lie to you, she was in pretty rough shape. But she’s in good hands, Mrs. Carver. That much I know.”
Tears fell from her eyes, splashing against her cheeks and hitting our entwined hands. “Oh, thank Heaven she’s alive! Did she say anything? Anything at all?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“No. She was…unconscious. Am I correct in saying she’s been missing for several days now?”
“Five,” Mr. Carver ground out, his face distorting from the pain he’d likely experienced these last few days. “Five long, brutal days of wondering and worrying ourselves sick and pacing the floor hour after hour.”
My stomach hurt and my heart shook in my chest. I couldn’t imagine their terror. “I’m sorry, Mr. Carver. I’m so sorry. But for the moment, or at least when I was with her last, she was okay.”
“She must have been…so alone. I can’t bear how alone she must have been!” Mrs. Carver choked out as she gripped my hands tighter.
“If it’s any consolation, Mrs. Carver, Hal rode with her in the ambulance and made sure she had someone with her at all times until the doctors took her,” Hobbs said.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes intense as she brought my hands to her chest. “Thank you for being there for our little girl. I can’t ever thank you enough!”
“Do you mind if I stay to see how she’s doing? I don’t want to encroach on you and your husband if it’s too upsetting for you.”
“Please, stay,” Mr. Carver answered.
“How about I see if I can rustle up some coffee for everyone? Or tea?” Hobbs asked.
But Mr. Carver bristled. “We’re fine. I just want to see my daughter. Thank you though…Hobbs, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
I’m not sure what made me do it, but I had so many questions spinning around in my head, I had to ask. “Mrs. Carver, can I ask you a question?”
She turned to me, her expression inquisitive. “Of course. Anything.”
�
��Is there anything, anything at all you can tell me about Kerry’s disappearance that was unusual, other than her disappearing, of course. Did she behave strangely beforehand? Did the people she babysat for say she’d behaved strangely?”
Mrs. Carver ran her fingers over her temples and squeezed. “Believe me, I’ve gone over and over this in my head, and I can’t think of a single thing that was out of the ordinary.”
Every time, it was like hitting the same stinking wall. “Did Kerry have a boyfriend? Someone she was seeing?”
Instantly, Mrs. Carver sat up straight. “No,” she whispered. And then more strongly, “No. She wasn’t seeing anyone. She was a good girl. She babysat and she studied and she made good grades. She was a good girl!”
I wasn’t aware dating at her age made her less than a good girl, but I got the impression maybe her parents thought differently.
“So you can’t think of anyone who would do this to her? I only ask because of the circumstances I’m involved in. I don’t know if you’re aware, the lipstick they found with Kerry’s fingerprints on it was found at the scene of a murder.”
Her sigh was ragged. “The police told us when they questioned us, yes.”
“My uncle was injured in that murder, but he can’t remember anything about that night or the person responsible for killing Gable Norton. And I’m scared to death the murderer is going to come looking for my uncle, thinking he can identify him. I can’t impress upon you enough how fearful that leaves me, and I’m convinced whoever took Kerry is the person who killed Gable Norton.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she whispered, her face full of sympathy. “I wish I could help but everything I just told you, I told the police, honey. Believe me, I almost wish Kerry had a boyfriend so we could pin this on someone, but as I said. She’s a good girl.”
Hobbs looked at me, and I think he knew what I was thinking.
Kerry was a very good girl…
From the corner of my eye, I saw the ER room doors swish open, but I wasn’t paying a great deal of attention until I heard that TV voice.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Witness Page 11