by Herron, Rita
Hopefully that was a good sign.
On the off chance that she was home in bed and the caller had simply stolen her phone and used it to frighten her sister, he knocked again. “Carly, it’s Sheriff Malone. If you’re here, please let me in.”
He tapped his boot as he waited. Seconds ticked by. No answer.
Dammit.
Deciding to check around back, he slogged through the brush and snow to the rear porch, then climbed the steps. He peered inside the window. Everything appeared normal.
No sign of a break-in or struggle.
The house was big. Carly could be upstairs. In trouble.
He picked the lock, then eased the door open. An eerie quiet filled the house, the old wood floors squeaking as he passed through the mudroom to the kitchen. The counters were neat and clean. No food sitting out, as if Carly had made dinner. Nothing disturbed.
Gun braced, he inched through the downstairs, and searched the bathroom and closets, then climbed the steps to the second floor. The first bedroom to the right held a four-poster bed covered in a quilt made of squares of red poinsettias. Christmas towels hung in the bathroom, but the room was empty.
He moved to the next bedroom, the master. An antique iron bed was covered in another quilt, this one in a snowflake pattern. The master bath was empty as well.
At this hour, with bad weather approaching and her store closed, Carly would probably be home.
Yet there were no signs she’d been here tonight.
Maybe she’d gone to a friend’s house?
He’d ask Gia if she had any ideas when he talked to her. But first, he’d search the store.
An image of those damn ornaments the killer left with his victim taunted him. Then the faces of the dead girls.
He just hoped to hell he didn’t find Carly’s body at Happy Holidays!
Chapter Five
11:00 p.m., December 18, Mobile, Alabama
Gia tried Carly’s phone again before she boarded the plane, but no answer.
Frantic, she called her partner Brantley. His voice sounded thick with sleep as if she’d woken him.
She quickly explained about the phone call. “I’m praying this is just some twisted prank, but I have to fly to Nebraska.”
“I’ll meet you at the airport.” Noises sounded and she realized he was getting out of bed, probably heading to the shower.
“No, I’m already here. They’re cancelling flights left and right. With the backlog across the states, the trickledown effect is enormous. Stay there and answer the tip line in case we get a lead.” She inhaled. “I phoned the sheriff in Tinley. He’s going to Carly’s house and her store to look for her. I’ll call you after I land.”
Without waiting for a reply, she ended the call and pressed the sheriff’s number. Hopefully Murphy would find Carly alive and safe.
The phone rang twice, then he answered. “It’s Gia. Did you find my sister?”
“She wasn’t at the house, and no signs of a struggle there. I’m on my way to Happy Holidays! now.”
Panic knotted Gia’s insides. Noise from other passengers buzzed around her as the flight attendant announced her flight was boarding. She snatched her computer case and overnight bag and fell into line.
“I’m about to get on a plane. Let me know if you find her.” Please dear God, let him find her.
“I will,” he said gruffly. “Try not to worry.”
“This is my baby sister.” Gia’s voice was a shaky whisper. “I’m supposed to take care of her, and I may have just led a serial killer to her door.”
“We’ll find her,” Murphy assured her. “Call me when you land.”
Gia agreed, then handed her ticket to the attendant and followed the trail of passengers onto the plane.
The flight attendant at the door greeted her with, “Happy Holidays!”
She choked back a cry of despair. Holidays had not been a happy occasion since her mother’s heart attack.
She couldn’t lose her sister, too.
* * *
11:15 p.m., December 18, Tinley, Nebraska
Murphy sped toward Happy Holidays! hoping like hell he could give Gia Franklin good news soon.
But the knot in his gut warned him that she was right. That the CK had come to his town.
The snow was starting to thicken, creating a fog across the landscape and forcing him to slow as he approached a turn. Trees swayed and bent as the wind gusts intensified.
Thankfully the streets were practically deserted of cars though.
Remembering that he’d seen Carly with the veterinarian moving to town, he retrieved the vet’s number and asked his voice activation system to dial him. Three rings later and a man answered.
“Dr. Whitman speaking.”
“It’s Sheriff Malone. Have you talked to or seen Carly Franklin today?”
A hesitant pause. “No, I’m on my way out of town to visit family in Arkansas. Is something wrong? Why are you asking about Carly?”
Murphy sucked in a breath. “Her sister phoned me from out of state. She thinks Carly might be in trouble.”
“What?” Whitman muttered. “What kind of trouble?”
“I don’t know yet, but I went to her house and she’s not there. I’m on my way to her shop to see if there are signs of foul play.”
The vet’s erratic breathing echoed over the line. “Why would someone hurt Carly?”
Murphy didn’t want to alarm him with Gia’s theory. “I don’t know. Just call me ASAP if you hear from her.”
“I will, and Sheriff.” Static crackled over the line. “I hope you find her.”
Murphy hung up, swung his car into an empty spot in front of Happy Holidays! and threw the gearshift into park. He pulled his gun as he jumped out and scanned the street.
The interior was dark, the Christmas lights from the street reflected in the front picture window. He paused at the door and peered inside, scanning what he could see of the interior for movement.
Nothing. Everything appeared to be quiet.
Still, Gia’s frantic call echoed in his head as he checked the front door. Locked. He strode down the walkway, then through the alley to the back door. No windows back here. The door was locked as well. An old-fashioned crystal doorknob with an outdated key lock. Carly didn’t have an alarm system. No one in Tinley did.
They hadn’t needed one before.
Heart hammering, he removed his lock picking tool, stooped down, and shined his pen light on the door. As he picked the lock and eased the door open, he scanned the back entrance, then aimed the light into the storage room to the right. Bags of ribbons, bows and colorful gift boxes filled shelves on one wall while boxes of ornaments, decorations and miscellaneous gift items overflowed three others.
He paused to listen for sounds as he moved past Carly’s office and into the main part of the building. “Carly? Are you here?”
Silence met his question, the eerie silence at odds with the cheerful holiday decorations occupying every conceivable area. “Carly, if you’re here talk to me.”
Again, no response.
His boots pounded the rustic wooden floor as he passed the children’s section. No one there.
But as he approached the ten-foot artificial fir tree, his boots made a crunching sound. He looked down and spotted what had made the noise. Broken ornaments.
The crystal snowflakes, angels and glass balls lay scattered across the floor, shattered to pieces. Two of the artificial limbs were bent, and the tree tilted precariously to one side as if it had been knocked over.
Or …as if someone had grabbed at it for control. As if there had been a struggle.
Pulse pounding, he stooped down to examine the area. Scuffmarks streaked the floor and drops of blood mingled with the broken glass.
He shined his light along the floor to the right and spotted more blood. A thin trail of it leading toward the back exit.
If Gia was right and the Christmas Killer had Carly, she was in grave peril.
This monster hadn’t held his victims hostage. He’d killed them quickly and almost immediately.
It might already be too late for Carly.
Chapter Six
11:45 p.m., December 18, Tinley, Nebraska
Murphy called a crime team to process the store as soon as he found the blood. Then he called his deputy Cody Freedman and asked him to organize a search party.
Alleyways, abandoned houses, barns, the woods, cornfields—anyplace they could think of where a killer might leave Carly or be keeping her hostage.
His stomach clenched at the thought of that sweet young girl being out there somewhere in the elements with a madman. Or left dead.
But he had a job to do and that meant putting his emotions on hold. The town needed him. Carly needed him.
But most of all, if Gia was right about the CK being here in Tinley, he had to stop him before he took any more lives.
The glass window on the door rattled as a knock sounded. Snow and a freezing wind swirled through the front door as he let the Evidence Response Team inside. “We got here as soon as we could,” Rick Mason, the leader of the team said. “The weather’s already turning nasty.” He twisted at his mustache. “Stache is freezing and breaking off out there.”
The storm blowing in complicated everything, including the search party’s efforts. “I know, but thanks for coming. If Carly Franklin has been abducted, every second counts.”
While Rick and Sue Lin, the second ERT agent, left their coats and outer gear on the front bench by the door, Murphy described his vision of what he thought had happened inside the store. “The perp probably hovered outside, watching the store. He waited until all the customers left before he made his move. Knowing Carly, she was friendly to the man, then he accosted her.” Murphy gestured toward the shattered ornaments on the floor and the crushed packages. “She grabbed at the tree as she struggled, and the ornaments snapped off and broke, and either Carly or both of them stepped on the packages beneath the tree as they fought. Then he knocked her unconscious and dragged her out the back door. Before he left, he turned off all the lights and locked up so as not to draw suspicion.”
“Makes sense,” Sue Lin agreed.
Rick angled his camera and began photographing the scene. “There’s blood, but not a significant amount.”
“The Christmas Killer strangled his victims, didn’t he?” Sue Lin asked. “So, there wouldn’t have been much blood.”
“That fits.” Rick took picture after picture while Sue Lin began dusting the doorknob for prints.
Careful not to touch anything or step in the blood, Murphy walked around the room searching for forensics the killer might have left behind. If they were dealing with the CK, he probably wouldn’t find any. Nine kills. This psycho hadn’t escaped detection by being sloppy.
But those scuffmarks looked like a man’s shoes. Hell, maybe he’d taken Gia’s sister on a whim to torment Gia and he’d made a mistake. “Be sure to print the shoe scuffmarks,” he told Rick. “It’s a long shot, but at this point, any detail might help us figure out who this guy is.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be thorough,” Sue Lin promised.
Murphy checked his watch, hoping his deputy might have found something.
But he hadn’t received any messages.
Something shiny caught his eye from the counter by the cash register. He walked over to examine it, and his breath quickened.
It was a box of ornaments. The Twelve Days of Christmas ornaments.
The first nine were missing from the box. The tenth one was tied to the tiny spruce tree on top of the counter.
Dammit to hell. The Christmas Killer had left them a message. He was here in Tinley.
* * *
1:00 a.m., December 19, Atlanta, Georgia
With no direct flights to Omaha, Gia found herself on a layover at Hartsfield International Airport. The few passengers waiting with her for the next flight were stretched out in chairs and on the floor in an attempt to sleep.
Her nerves were too frayed to rest. She paced the wall of windows overlooking the tarmac and phoned the sheriff.
“Did you find her?”
“I’m sorry, but not yet.” Worry darkened his tone.
“What did you find?” she asked, sensing he was holding something back.
“As I said before, she wasn’t home and there was no indication of trouble there.” He paused, tension rattling between them. “The shop was a different story.”
Oh, God, please don’t let Carly be dead.
“She wasn’t inside, but there were signs of a struggle. Ornaments from the Christmas tree had fallen and were shattered on the floor and the gift boxes beneath were crushed.”
Gia leaned against the wall, her lungs straining for air as she remembered another time when she’d found broken ornaments on the floor. The day her mother had her heart attack.
“Gia?”
“I’m here,” she said, her breathing choppy. “Go on.”
“There was some blood on the floor, but not much. My guess is that Carly cut her hand on the ornaments when she wrestled with her attacker.”
A strained second passed. “So, you believe she was abducted?”
“I’m sorry, but it appears that way. There were scuffmarks on the floor indicating a struggle, then more toward the back exit. Door was locked and the lights turned off to make it appear as if the store was simply closed for the evening.”
Tears filled Gia’s eyes, panic battling with the need to do something -- anything to find her baby sister.
“We can discuss the rest when you get here,” Murphy said. “My deputy organized a search party and a crew is already hunting for her. The weather may complicate the search, but we’re on top of it.”
The world blurred around Gia. His words sounded as if they were coming from far away, as if she was spiraling downward into a dark wind tunnel. Outside, a thunderstorm broke loose and a blustery wind rattled the glass. Although it wasn’t snowing in Atlanta, thunder and lightning and heavy rain was complicating travel.
Slowly the sheriff’s first sentence registered.
She clenched her phone in a white-knuckled grip. “What do you mean, we can talk about the rest when I get there?”
Another hesitation, stirring her anger.
“Listen to me, Murphy Malone, don’t you dare hold back on me! This is my sister, and I want to know everything you know when you know it. Do you understand me?”
“I got it,” he said in a low voice.
“Then tell me the rest.”
He cleared his throat. “I found a box of ornaments on the counter by the cash register. An opened box.”
Gia shook her head in denial as the truth dawned on her. “The Twelve Days?”
“Yes,” he confirmed gruffly.
“How many were there?”
A heartbeat of silence passed. “Nine were missing. Whoever took Carly tied the tenth one to the miniature tree by the register.”
“He left me a message.” Gia trembled violently as she sank down onto the floor. She leaned against the wall and buried her head into her hands.
Outside, the storm raged on. The intercom announced delayed and cancelled flights every minute. The airline was working to set up passengers in hotels and rearrange connecting flights from folks trying to get home to the Midwest.
She choked back a cry. She might not make it out of Atlanta tonight. Worse, even if she did get to Tinley, what if she was too late to save her sister?
* * *
2:45 a.m., December 19, Tinley
Murphy hated to be the bearer of bad news, but Gia was right. She deserved to be informed. She was not only the victim’s sister, but the agent who’d been tracking this serial killer for weeks now.
If anyone had an inkling about his next move, where he might hold a victim or leave her body, Gia might.
“Keep me posted on any forensics you find, or results in the lab,” he told the ERT. “I’m going to check
out a few places where the killer might take her.”
“Will do,” Sue Lin told him. “We’ll lock up when we’re finished.”
They’d already cordoned off the store with crime scene tape, a macabre sight against the twinkling Christmas lights and glittery sign boasting the store’s name.
When the town woke up to see Happy Holidays! was a crime scene, people would be upset. Already they weren’t thrilled about the possibility of canceling the festival, but to think one of their own was in danger and that a serial killer was stalking the women would cause pandemonium.
His mind raced as he returned to his car, phoned his deputy and filled him in. “Have you found anything yet?”
“Afraid not,” Cody said. “We checked a couple of abandoned barns on Route 9, but they were empty. Three volunteers are combing the cornfields off Pine Kettle Road, and we’ve searched the park. But the wind is starting to bear down, and the thick snowfall is making it difficult to see. We can’t leave our men out too long in this mess or we’ll be dealing with hypothermia.”
Dammit, Cody was right. The wind chill was predicted to plunge below zero overnight and continue declining over the next twenty-four hours. So far, Holly was rolling in fast and furious.
“Understood. Let’s set up teams and rotate the volunteers to give everyone a rest and a break from the elements. I’ll drive out to the old motel on Pitchfork Street and check it out.”
This maniac had to seek shelter from the storm himself to survive. If he hadn’t killed Carly yet, he might be holding her until Gia arrived.
His stomach growled, reminding him he’d had an early dinner last night, so he snatched a protein bar from his console and wolfed it down as he started the engine. Thankful the sheriff’s department had switched over to SUV’s with four-wheel drive, he pulled away from the town square.
Blinding snow forced him to drive slowly as he maneuvered the alleys and side streets, scanning for signs of trouble. Although it was the middle of the night, he phoned Mistletoe Manor, the local B & B.