by Herron, Rita
Grim-faced, Murphy nodded. “It looks like they struggled. She probably tried to grab the tree to steady herself or maybe to swing it at him so she could run. Some of the ornaments fell off in the struggle.” He pointed to the crimson stains on the floor. “She may have cut herself on the ornaments, and that’s her blood.”
“Or he cut himself and it’s his.” Hope tinged her voice.
“The crime team took samples and processed the shop, including the walls, doors and doorknobs. They found a tiny button on the floor by the singing snowman. Don’t know if it belonged to a customer or to him, but we bagged it. Forensics should be at the lab now. I asked them to put a rush on it so maybe we’ll know in a few hours.”
A tense pause, then Gia offered him a tiny smile. “Thanks for being so thorough, Murphy.”
“I may be small town, Gia, but I do my job. This maniac walked into my town and abducted one of our own,” he said. “I want to get Carly back safely and stop him before he hurts anyone else.” And with tourists already in Tinley, the victim pool was growing larger.
Having strangers around would also enable the killer to hide without attracting attention.
Gia averted her eyes, although he detected tears threatening. Seeing her vulnerable and frightened roused every instinct he had to draw her into his arms and comfort her. But she’d pulled away when he’d taken her arm outside, so he kept his hands to himself.
She angled her head toward him. “Where’s the ornament?”
Murphy gestured toward the register. “I found it tied to the little tree Carly kept on top of the counter. But I had the crime team bag it all and send to the lab.”
“It’s odd he left it there,” she mused. “He usually ties it to the victim’s wrist.”
“Maybe it’s a sign he hasn’t hurt her yet,” Murphy said. “Or that we’re dealing with a
copycat. You didn’t release that detail to the press, did you?”
Gia shook her head. “No, but I don’t think it’s a copycat.” She tucked an errant strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind one ear. “It feels like it’s him. Like he came here to torment me.” A myriad of emotions streaked her face. “I think he wants me now. That he kidnapped Carly to torment me because I’m his end game.”
Chapter Ten
5:45 a.m., December 19, Tinley
The scent of apple turnovers and chocolate croissants made him dizzy as he thought of his mother. Every year at holiday time, she’d bake cinnamon rolls and gingerbread men. Together, they’d decorate sugar cookies with icing and sprinkles, then sip hot chocolate while they watched old Christmas movies.
The twinkling colored lights had mesmerized him. Then they’d cut out paper snowflakes and strung them all around the house.
His daddy had hated it though. He’d come home smelling like whiskey and cheap perfume, and he’d yelled at his mother to take down the gaudy looking decorations. Said the blow-up Santa and elf in the yard looked like white trash.
She’d argued with him once, said they were pretty, but he’d shoved her down and told her nothing was pretty about her or the stupid Christmas tree. Then his father had seen the Twelve Days ornaments and begun crushing them.
“Stop it, Daddy!” He lunged at his father and tried to grab the ornaments to save them. They were special between him and his mother.
But his father backhanded him so hard he went flying across the room. He hit the wall with a thud, tasted blood, and his nose had gushed.
His mother cried out for him to run to his room and stay there. That night as he lay huddled in bed, too afraid to come out, his parents had screamed and fought. He’d heard the lamp crash and tables being overturned and things smashing against the wall.
Finally, he’d cried himself to sleep. When he’d woken up in the morning and gotten up the courage to come out, all the decorations had been destroyed and thrown in the garbage.
His mother was gone, too.
She’d abandoned him and left him with that monster. After that, he’d hated Christmas and any reminder of the stupid holiday.
But he couldn’t escape the glitter and sparkles this time of year. It was everywhere.
This town was worse than some others.
He’d heard the disappointed whispers of the locals as they talked about having to cancel the parade and the festival. The blizzard was wreaking havoc on their yearly traditions.
Still, the girl in the sweet shop had been friendly to him and insisted the festival would go on, that the town wouldn’t let it die. It would just start a couple of days later.
As if he cared.
Yes, Sweet Sari had offered him free samples and smiled at him like she enjoyed waiting on him.
Just like a woman should.
Not all of the girls did. Some were snooty and aloof and acted as if he was nobody.
That was their mistake.
Still, he had to take her. She would make a perfect number ten.
He stood beneath the thick trees bordering her driveway and waited on her. He’d heard her say she usually left for work by four a.m. But today, with the storm in full swing, she planned to wait until daylight. The bakery would be closed for the day.
But she had food to deliver to the search teams looking for Carly.
Laughter bubbled in his chest, and he dug his hands into his pockets and ground his teeth to keep them from chattering.
Those workers would just have to do without her homemade goodies.
He had other plans for Sari.
Chapter Eleven
6:00 a.m., December 19, Tinley
The sight of the shattered angel ornament on the floor twisted at the last vestiges of Gia’s composure.
But she channeled her energy into professional mode and mentally distanced herself from the reality that violence now tainted Happy Holidays! If she didn’t, she’d virtually collapse into a puddle of tears.
Although Murphy and the crime scene team had photographed the shop, she wanted her own pictures. Often, she noticed things long after her initial assessment. Usually late at night when she should be sleeping but was too wired to close her eyes.
She didn’t have time for sleep now. Every second counted.
Judging from the broken ornaments, crushed packages and gnarled tree limbs, she agreed with Murphy’s theory. However, the ornaments on the countertop tree stumped her slightly.
He’d obviously wanted her to think he was the Christmas Killer, but could he be a copycat? She didn’t see how that was possible, unless someone had leaked the details of his MO to the press?
Or…as she’d thought earlier…was he holding Carly just to torment her? If so, that meant he would take another woman.
Probably within the next few hours.
She crossed the room to the counter. With gloved hands, she examined the box of opened ornaments. On the bottom of the box, she saw the Happy Holidays! price tag sticker.
“He has his own set of ornaments,” she told Murphy as she dove into the killer’s mind. “This box came from the store. That’s the reason he left the last three ornaments here. The tenth ornament on the tree is a warning that he’s hunting his tenth victim.”
“He’s playing cat and mouse,” he said darkly. “I don’t want to panic folks, but we have to warn the women in town.”
Worry knotted Gia’s insides. “You’re right.”
“The residents are already upset about the storm hindering the festival. And now this.” Murphy scrubbed his hand over his face. “Do you have any idea who he might target?”
Gia bit down on her bottom lip. “So far, he appears to be choosing his victims at random.”
“Would you mind showing me those crime scene photos? Maybe a pair of fresh eyes could help.”
“True. God knows I’ve looked at them a hundred times. And so has my partner. We have another agent analyzing them as well.”
“We could do it at my office.”
Gia agreed, then photographed the box of ornaments. Murphy led her
toward the back, and they followed the blood trail to the rear door. She looked inside the storage closets, but they were overflowing.
She’d practically lived in the store growing up and had worked as a salesclerk during the holiday rush. Since then, Carly had reorganized inventory to make it easy to locate specific products. Gia combed the shelves and eventually found the one holding specialty ornaments. Four boxes of the Twelve Days of Christmas ornaments were stacked on top. She pointed them out to Murphy.
“Did your people fingerprint inside the closet?” she asked.
Murphy shook his head. “I don’t think so. But I’ll grab my kit from the car and do it now.”
“Thanks.” While he hurried to his vehicle, she snapped pictures of the blood trail. Not enough blood to indicate that Carly had been seriously injured.
But enough to indicate that the sheriff was right. Carly had struggled during the abduction.
“Hang in there, sis, and keep fighting. I’m going to find you,” she whispered.
From her vantage on the floor, she spotted something beneath the corner of the door leading to Carly’s office. She leaned over and peered at it, then realized it was a business card.
The card was from a pet grooming shop in Gulf Shores. The shop owned by victim number nine.
A second later, the lights flickered off, pitching the store into full darkness.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor. “Murphy?”
No response.
She jerked her head up, hand on her weapon, ready in case the killer had come back here for her.
* * *
6:10 a.m., December 19, Tinley
As Murphy headed back into the store, he couldn’t shake the realization that the CK might have already chosen another woman in Tinley as his next victim.
Just as he entered, the lights went off.
Hell. Holly was definitely gaining momentum. Outside, snow fell in heavy thick flakes and the wind stirred it from the ground and trees, swirling it in a blinding haze.
He pulled his flashlight and flicked it on, then hurried toward the back of the store. “Gia?”
Breathing echoed in the silence, and he paused, listening. Had someone snuck inside while he went to his car?
Every instinct in him jumped to attention, and he eased his way toward the closet where he’d left Gia. He scanned the front of the shop, the tree, and behind the register counter. Nothing.
The floor squeaked beneath his boots. “Gia?”
A noise echoed from near the closet, then her voice. “I’m here.”
He shined his flashlight across the hallway then found her standing behind the closet door, her gun in her hand.
“Whoa.” He lifted his own weapon in surrender, then gestured for them to both put their weapons away.
“The lights went off, and I thought he might have gotten in,” she whispered in a shaky voice.
“Same here,” he said gruffly as he holstered his weapon. “You okay?”
She nodded, although she seemed anything but okay. She looked fatigued and out of her mind with worry.
She had every right to be.
She held out her hand. “I found this business card on the floor wedged beneath the door.”
Murphy took a step closer. Her fingers trembled as she handed the card to him. “The name of that pet grooming service is the same one owned by victim nine, Terry Ann Igley.”
He arched a brow. “You think he intentionally left it so you’d know he’s here?”
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t think so. If he had, he would have left it in plain sight, on the register counter.”
“Then he may have touched it without gloves. I’ll send it to the lab ASAP.”
He stowed it in an evidence bag, then stepped into the storage closet. “Let me dust this place, then we’ll get out of here.”
The lights suddenly flickered back on, casting them in bright light. “I’ll look at that blood trail while you process the closet.”
He gave a quick nod and decided to get to work before they completely lost power. It was only a matter of time before the entire town was in the dark.
Murphy found a partial print on the edge of the shelf. Although it could be Carly’s or one of the teens she hired during the holiday rush to stock shelves and assist with customers, it might also belong to her kidnapper.
“I need to issue a warning and alert people as to the situation,” Murphy reiterated. “How about we grab breakfast and coffee? Then we’ll stop by my office and look at those crime scene photos.”
* * *
6:30 a.m., December 19, Tinley
Bubba’s Breakfast and Grille had become a landmark for Tinley residents to gather over late morning stacks of hotcakes, sausage, bacon, ham and buttermilk biscuits. Lunches ranged from salads and homemade soups to desserts provided by Sari’s Sweetshop. It also attracted tourists with a penchant for burgers and beer.
Bubba’s wife baked hotdishes, “casseroles” as Gia had learned they called them in the South, and during corn harvest season, they offered twenty varieties of corn ranging from street corn to creamed sweet corn and included special seasoning and rubs that spiced up the local fanfare. Corn and bean salsa was a mainstay for Bubba’s and proved to be the perfect side dishes for Bubba’s breakfast burritos.
Just like the rest of the town, holiday decorations adorned the establishment. Someone had painted snowflakes on the windows, ironic since now real snow clung to the glass and icicles hung from the awnings.
Jingle bells tinkled as Murphy opened the door and “Silent Night” flowed from the speakers as Gia headed toward a booth. A giant Santa sitting beside the old-fashioned jukebox waved in greeting and hand carved wooden reindeer lined the breakfast bar counter.
Exhaustion clawed at Gia’s muscles as she sank into a booth. Green and red tablecloths covered the tables, while mason jars filled with sprigs of holly added to the festive environment.
Today they made Gia feel even more depressed.
Her sister loved the season and all the color and cheer. Now she was in the clutches of a crazed killer.
Bubba’s wife, Arlene, brought over a pot of coffee. “Gia Franklin, I declare, I didn’t expect to see you ever come home. Carly talks about you all the time.” She waved her hand dramatically. “Don't 'cha know! Gia’s working this important case and Gia’s flying here and there.”
The thought of her sister bragging about her when Gia had dismissed her pleas to visit twisted the knife deeper into her heart.
Her emotions must have shown on her face because the older woman’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, dear, what’s wrong?”
Bubba lumbered over with a basket of homemade biscuits and honey. “Didn’t you see that crime scene tape in front of Happy Holidays!, Arlene?”
Arlene’s face paled, and she gripped the edge of the table as if her knees went weak. “Carly… where is she?”
Murphy cleared his throat. “That’s the reason Gia is here,” he said matter-of-factly. “Unfortunately, we don’t know where Carly is at the moment. Someone abducted her from her store.”
Arlene sank down onto the seat beside Gia. “Oh, my goodness, honey. Carly has to be all right.”
“Yes, she has to be,” Gia murmured, although her voice wavered.
Bubba, a big blustery thick-chested man with a scruffy beard, gave Gia a sympathetic look. But his take-charge voice was comforting. “How can we help?”
“I don’t want to stir up panic,” Murphy said. “But we have reason to believe the man Gia has been chasing for those multiple murders is here. That he kidnapped Carly to get back at Gia.”
Arlene gasped, her age-spotted hand fluttering to her face. “You’re talking about the Christmas Killer? The one who murdered all those young girls?”
Young ones just like her sister. Gia nodded, nausea climbing her throat. “I’m afraid so. I hopped on a plane and got here as soon as I could.”
“My deputy is organizing search parties to h
unt for her,” Murphy said. “Bubba, we might need your help.”
“I’ll get in touch with all my friends, the men’s church group, and my bowling team,” Bubba offered. “They’ll want to join the search.”
“If that maniac is in Tinley, the young women around here are in danger,” Arlene cried.
Gia shifted restlessly. Simply the mention of that serial killer’s name would rouse panic in town. “I’m afraid so,” she said. “I don’t want to create hysteria, but we have to warn locals and tourists.”
“I’m planning to talk to the local news station,” Murphy said. “And I’ll have them issue a press release.”
The front door opened, and a gust of wind blew in as two families appeared, chattering about needing a hot breakfast. Bubba and Arlene’s daughter Billy Jo hurried to show them to their tables. Gia hadn’t seen her in three years. She’d matured into a pretty teenager.
“Already we’ve postponed the parade and festivities for today and tomorrow, but the town council was hoping we could salvage Christmas Eve and Christmas Day,” Arlene said. “News of this will make people flee the town and not come back.”
“Arlene,” Bubba chided, his tone slightly sharp. “The last thing Gia is worried about now is the Christmas Festival. Her sister is missing.”
Arlene’s face crumpled. “Oh, I’m so sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to sound like I don’t care. I adore Carly. She’s done so much for Tinley since your mother died. I swear, sometimes I walk into the store and I feel like your mama is still here with us.”
Gia blinked back tears and took a long sip of her coffee, grateful for the burst of caffeine.
“I don’t think people will be leaving in this weather,” Murphy told Arlene. “If the storm intensifies like the weather forecasters are predicting, roads will be impassable. Airports are already shutting down.”
The front door opened again, and other customers began to meander in.