“…st what we need, right? More of the white stuff. It’s four-oh-eight P.M. and time for some more holiday music to help you get into the spirit. In fact, here’s one to go with that forecast. You’re listening to Rockin’ Ronnie on K-I-M-O FM.” Following immediately behind the announcer’s voice, the first notes of Let It Snow rang from the car radio’s speakers.
“Damn,” Skip muttered aloud then shook his head. He clicked the ignition to off and pulled out the key.
Daydreaming had distracted him and he’d missed the weather again, just like earlier. Couldn’t very well blame Ronnie for that one, no matter how much he might want to. Oh well, judging from his words and song selection, apparently more snow was still in the forecast, so that much hadn’t changed. Odds were Clovis would have the latest report anyway. She usually did.
Deputy Carmichael climbed out of the patrol car once again, this time without hesitation. He locked it out of habit then pushed his hat down on top of his short crop of brown hair. It didn’t do much for his ears as far as the cold was concerned, but he could live with that. He took a moment to adjust his belt before starting across the small parking area at the back of the building that housed the town jail and sheriff’s office.
Another glance at his watch told him he was still flush with time before his shift started, so he considered going ahead and having a cigarette now. Sheriff Morton had banned smoking inside—a side effect of being a reformed nicotine addict himself.
Stopping near the back door Skip reached inside his jacket and withdrew a pack of reds from the inner pocket, then tapped one out across his index finger. After tucking the filter end between his lips he dug around for his lighter. Absently shoving his hand into an outer pocket he once again felt the small box and paused. After a moment of introspection he snatched the unlit cigarette from his mouth, pushed it back into the pack, and stowed it, then popped a peppermint into his mouth instead.
He wanted to talk to Clovis before her shift ended, and besides, he would probably end up smoking half a pack later. He always did whenever he was out on patrol. It wasn’t because of an addiction so much as it was just something to help him escape the boredom without being too distracted.
After all, this was Hulis. It’s not like anything ever really happened here.
CHAPTER 3
4:01 P.M. – December 22, 1975
Bremerton’s Dime Store
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
ALL Merrie wanted right now was to be at home.
No… That wasn’t really true. She wanted way more than that.
She not only wanted to be at home, she wanted to be warm, next to the fireplace, with hot chocolate and a book. And, she wanted it to be yesterday. She wanted more than anything for today to just vanish. She wanted for it to have never, ever happened.
And, her list didn’t stop there.
She also wanted something back that had been taken from her. She wasn’t sure exactly what that something was, but she could feel the emptiness inside where it used to be, so she knew without a doubt that it was gone. And she was certain that he had taken it.
She didn’t just want these things, she was wishing for them. In fact, she had been wishing hard on them for hours now. But so far, wishing hadn’t worked out any better than wanting.
Still, out of all those things she wanted and wished for so desperately, right now, at this very moment, she would settle for just being home. And, the sooner they were finished here, the sooner that could really happen, which is exactly why she was standing before the huge front window of Bremerton’s Dime Store, clutching tightly to Becca’s mitten encased hand.
Her little sister simply wasn’t going to be happy until she had officially recited her amended wish list to the jolly elf in person. The letter Merrie had helped her write, decorate, and “mail” to the North Pole two days ago just wasn’t enough in her young mind. She had to talk to the man himself.
The problem had started in the car on the way here, and before they were ever inside the market it had grown. Beginning as an “I want” that quickly turned into a whine, it then became the first embarrassing squeals of a signature Rebecca Kathleen Callahan tantrum. She didn’t throw them as often as she used to, but when she did they were just horrible, and Merrie could tell this one had been well on its way to being one of her worst.
Merrie could also tell that Mom was already wearing down, and Becca’s outburst wasn’t helping at all. The observation made her feel more confident about not having said anything to her mother about what had happened at school. Right now it wasn’t something Mom could handle. Not without Daddy to help, at least. But the confidence came at a price, because at the same time it made her feel even more afraid for their safety being out here and not at home. It was obvious to Merrie that her mother couldn’t protect herself and Becca, and she still couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t followed them.
Unfortunately, as her sister’s temper fit grew in volume, her mother’s nerves began to fray, and she finally gave in, promising that she would take her next-door to see Santa once they had finished the shopping.
Becca was happy about getting her way, of course, but still not satisfied. As five-year-olds tend to be, she was twice as impatient as she was excited, which was still just as annoying. Merrie actually shared her unwillingness to wait, but for a wholly different reason. Panic had set in once again as soon as her mother made the promise. Their current detour was already bad enough because it turned out that Norris’s Market was packed with people doing last minute shopping too, and that was turning a short stop for a few things into what felt the same as a whole morning grocery-shopping trip, just like they did every other Saturday. The idea of it taking even longer still before they got home was just unthinkable for her.
Merrie decided she had to keep that from happening, and so she did the only thing she could think of to do. She had offered to take her sister next door to visit Santa while her mother waited in line at the butcher counter. Divide and conquer, that’s what Daddy always said. If they could just get this all over with now, they could go home and wait for him. Then she could tell the secret. Then maybe she wouldn’t hurt inside so much. And maybe, just maybe, things could finally be okay…or at least as okay as they could ever be again.
Although the sick feeling in her stomach had sort of gone away for a time, it had never really left completely. However, now it was back worse than before as she watched the brightly colored “Holiday Express” electric train weaving its way through a fantasy toyland on the other side of the window glass. As much as she wanted this to be over, she now found herself stalling. With each step closer to Bremerton’s, her dread at seeing Santa Claus had increased. Even though it wasn’t him, the suit was the same, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it.
The train, however, was different. Through the weather frosted pane she could barely hear the dull tick, tick, tick of the wheels on the metal track as the engine circled, pulling behind it a line of colorfully decorated cars. But, if she concentrated hard and listened closely, it was definitely there.
Tick, tick, tick, swish…
Tick, tick, tick, swish…
And then the faint whistle…
Tick, tick, tick, swish…
In those sounds she found some minor bit of comfort—not exactly from what she was hearing really, but from the pleasant remembrance the rhythmic noise brought rushing back into her head. The vivid memory of standing here with Daddy for what seemed like hours last Christmas season, watching the train, pointing out the various miniature scenes, and grinning so hard that it made her face hurt.
Happiness and joy…
But the comfort of the memory didn’t stay with her for very long. Last Christmas was forever ago, and now things were all different and messed up. Yes, the train still chugged around the track, just as it had done then. The tiny caroler figurines were still “singing” in front of the tiny plastic church, just as they had done then. The brightly colored lights strung ar
ound the display still winked off and on, just as they had done then.
But that was then.
Now everything was changed. Merrie’s face hurt but she already knew that this time it wasn’t because she was grinning. She was no longer able to feel those things called happiness and joy. She could only feel the darkness and the pain.
She swallowed hard and blinked. When she looked again her eyes focused on her own reflection in the glass. It came as no surprise that the face staring back at her wore a deep frown. After what had happened today, she wasn’t so sure she would ever smile again.
A lick of icy wind weaved its way through the bustle of people moving along the sidewalk behind them, and it blew hard against her back. She watched the reflection as her hair whipped around her head, a shock of it eventually coming to rest across her face and blocking her tired eyes. She brushed it away with the back of her hand, and then purely out of habit she reached down as she momentarily hiked up her leg and proceeded to adjust her sagging knee sock. The thin cotton did little to protect her against the cold, but right now she really didn’t care.
Still quietly staring into the window she pulled her free hand back inside the arm of her coat and clenched her fist hard. Her fingernails dug into her palm, and as she felt the sting she winced and then relaxed her fingers. She had thought the pain helped earlier, but now she wasn’t so sure. It didn’t make anything go away this time. It was just more pain on top of what was already there. Maybe there was nothing at all that could help her.
Maybe this really was all her fault. Maybe God was punishing her for something. That’s what Sister Conran would say. “God punishes bad girls.” She had heard those words more than once from the nun, but they had never really applied to her. That is, maybe until now.
Merrie just wished God would tell her what she had done wrong, so she could confess her sin and be sorry. She would say Hail Marys and Our Fathers until she lost her voice if it would make all of this go away and keep her from going to Hell.
She didn’t want to go to Hell. She felt like she was already there anyway, and that was bad enough. If Hell really was worse than this, she didn’t want any part of it.
Her jumbled thoughts were interrupted a moment later when she felt a furious tugging at her other arm. The constant pull was soon joined by seemingly desperate words screeching into her ears.
“Mare-reee…” Becca pleaded. “C’mon, Merrie… C’mon… I doan wanna lookit the train no more… I wanna see Santa now.”
“Okay, okay,” Merrie mumbled, giving in and allowing her sister to drag her toward the door. “But we have to be quick. Okay? Mom will be waiting.”
Becca began chanting, “Santa Claus is coming… He knows you’re naughty… Santa Claus is coming… He knows you’re ‘wake… Santa Claus is…”
“Don’t sing, Becca, okay?” Merrie grumbled.
The request fell on all but deaf ears, not that it really mattered. Her younger sister was too overwhelmed with excitement, and she couldn’t stop singing even if she tried.
Still holding on to Becca’s hand, Merrie reached out and tugged the door open. The bell at the top jangled, then her ears were filled with voices, holiday music, the swishing and ticking of the model train, and all of the other sounds that came with a busy store at Christmas. But as loudly as they echoed inside her head, they couldn’t push away his voice. It was louder still.
“…You don’t want to make me kill your parents, right? Promise you won’t tell…”
Immediately following the wall of noise came a blast of warm air rushing outward into her face. It was comfortable and stuffy at the same time. Chasing away the chill of winter, but also stale and thick in a way that made it hard to breathe. Like the sounds, it too was filled with way too many things—
The sweet smells of candies, and the buttery aroma of popcorn…
The spiciness of candles and perfumes…
Of fruitcake…
The chemically sharpness of flocking…
Of plastic trees…
And even the smell of the people shopping…
Floating in between like some kind of invisible glue holding the odors together, was a weird, pretend Christmas tree scent. The kind that came in a spray can and made everything smell like the pine sawdust the janitor always used whenever someone puked on the floor at school.
School…
The janitor’s closet…
The piney stink was just another reminder that Merrie really didn’t need right now. Her stomach felt like it flip-flopped and her mouth started to water. She paused, holding the door open as the fear began chewing its way through her insides all over again.
However, Becca wasn’t going to wait.
Still set on her single-minded mission, the five-year-old stomped forward toward the threshold. When she could go no farther because of Merrie’s grip on her hand, she stopped chanting her joyful tune and began tugging hard on her sister’s arm. “C’mon, Mare-reee… C’mon…”
Merrie gave in and plodded slowly through the doorway and into the store, even though the panic in her chest made her want to turn around and run away as fast and as far as she could. Even worse, the feeling was getting stronger with each step, and before they had even made their way past the checkout stand she found herself once again trying to reason out a deal with her younger sibling in order to escape the horror of facing anyone in a red suit, even if it really was just Mister Babbs behind the beard, just like he always was at Christmas.
“Becca…” she asked as the five-year-old pressed forward with her in tow. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to just look at the train some more?”
“No!” her sister yipped.
“But you didn’t see everything. I can show you…”
“No!”
“I’ll let you have my dessert after dinner tonight.”
“No! Santa!”
“But you already saw Santa,” Merrie objected. “When Mommy and Daddy took us shopping at the big department store last weekend. Remember?”
“Santa! Santa!” Becca demanded, pulling harder as her older sister came to a full stop and began to resist.
Merrie started to object again and even considered pulling big sister rank on her. “But, Becca, I’m…”
Before she could finish, a cheerful voice interrupted. “Did I hear someone say they’re looking for Santa?”
“Santa! Santa!” Becca chirruped, dancing in place as the excitement percolated from her tiny body.
Miss Ruth, the store manager, smiled down at them, then turned up her wrist and pushed back her sleeve so that she could check her watch. “Hmm,” she said. “Well, I believe Santa is taking a break right now so that he can feed the reindeer up on the roof.”
A wave of intense relief washed over Merrie as the words registered. She couldn’t have asked for a better excuse to get out of this whole mess.
Becca’s eyes widened and she yelped, “Rainn-deeeer! Can I pet Rudolph? Can I?”
“No, honey, I’m afraid it’s too slippery up on the roof for little girls,” Miss Ruth explained, apology clear in her voice. Then she asked, “You’re Elizabeth Callahan’s girls, right?”
“Yes ma’am,” Merrie replied.
“Is she next door?”
“Yes ma’am, at Norris’s,” Merrie answered again, this time with a slight nod, then she added, “She’s waiting in line for the butcher, so I said I would bring Becca over to see Santa. But since he’s busy…”
Miss Ruth smiled wide. “Oh, no need to worry dear. Santa should be back down in just a few minutes.”
Unfortunately, that bit of news sent a second wave crashing down upon Merrie, but this one made her feel miserable all over again.
Miss Ruth squatted down in front of Becca and gave her nose a tweak as she continued. “And, you know what’s even better?”
“What? What?” Becca asked, excitement pushing her eyes even wider at the idea of something better than petting a real, live reindeer.
“I’
m pretty sure you two are the only children in the store right now, so if you just go on back and wait, you’ll be first in line to see Santa when he’s done.”
Becca’s body literally shook with more glee than could be contained by a full-grown adult, much less by a five-year-old. She started dancing in place once again as it fought to escape. Tugging on Merrie’s arm she demanded, “C’mon, Mare-ree! Hurry! C’mon! Santa! We kin be first…”
Miss Ruth stood up and pointed toward the back of the store, then smiled at Merrie and gave her a wink. “Go all the way to the back, sweetheart. I’m sure he’ll be out to see you very soon.”
“Thank you,” Merrie muttered, forcing the words out as nicely as she could, even though she didn’t feel very much like being polite anymore.
Still dragging her feet, she stumbled along behind her sister, who seemed to need no help whatsoever finding the Jolly Elf’s lair. The farther back they went down the aisles, the less crowded it became, until finally it seemed there was nobody around but them. Bremerton’s wasn’t as huge as the fancy department store in Mais, but it was still really big. Or it seemed that way to Merrie, at least. Now, looking back over her shoulder she couldn’t even see the entrance anymore. And, no matter how hard she listened, even the tick, tick, tick of the electric train was gone. All that remained was the annoying Christmas music from above and distant voices of the shoppers.
Becca came to a halt the moment they stepped out into the open area at the back of the store. She uttered a soft “Wow… North Pole…” but other than that she remained quiet, staring in wonder at the cardboard cutouts and bunched up blankets of glitter-covered felt “snow” that surrounded the decorated throne-like chair. The smell of peppermint candy canes mixed strongly with the other odors that were still floating around the inside of the store. It seemed to Merrie that God was intent on torturing her at every turn with smells and sounds…and just everything.
In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel Page 3