In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel

by M. R. Sellars

  “What about other things? Like school and such? People aging around her? Not having any other children to play with? Surely she can see that things have changed.”

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to matter. She focuses on the Christmas holidays. Those are important to her. The rest of it seems to play itself out in her head as long as nobody interferes and she has her room.”

  “But there are other physical issues. She’s a grown woman. What about menstruation? Arousal?”

  He nodded. “She knows how to handle the monthly thing. Her mother was still around when that started. As to any sort of desires and such, to my knowledge she’s never exhibited any other than a crush on a teen idol from the day. No matter what her body does, in her head she’s ten. She doesn’t know any better than to think that’s just how it’s supposed to be. And… Well, we don’t really know what she sees when she looks in the mirror.”

  Constance turned and stared toward the building as she breathed, “Dear God...”

  “Sweetheart, in my way of thinking, God doesn’t have much of anything to do with it,” Carmichael spat. “If he does, then he’s just as big a sonofabitch as Colson was, and I’ll tell him that to his face when I get to the gates... As you can imagine, the preacher and me don’t much see eye to eye on that issue.” He paused for a second, looking at the ground thoughtfully, then hefted the bags once again and turned to go. “Let me get this stuff inside, so Merrie has her presents to open Christmas morning. It’d break my heart to disappoint her, and the past seven years I’ve been too busy to deliver ‘em when she wakes up. When I missed the first couple it caused some problems for her.”

  “I understand,” Constance replied. As he started to walk toward the door, she called after him. “When you’re finished with that, do you think you can take me by the scene? I’d like to have a look at it.”

  He stopped, half turned, looked up into the sky and then back down at her face. “Not really much daylight left,” he grunted. “No electric over there, and it’s boarded up, so it’s gonna be dark enough as it is. Be better if we did it tomorrow morning. Believe me, I’ve been down this road before. Nothing’s gonna show up there till Christmas Day anyway. But it’s really up to you. You’re the Fed.”

  Constance thought about it for a moment. “Do you already have the house under surveillance?”

  “Yep. Broderick should be out there now. Slozar’ll relieve ‘im this evening. We can drive by and check on them if you want.”

  Truth is, he was correct. That visit could wait. As far as all of the previous murders went, the site was cold in almost every way imaginable. And this year, as a crime scene, it technically didn’t yet exist. She wasn’t going to learn anything stumbling around in the dark with a flashlight that wouldn’t be there for her to discover tomorrow morning.

  And besides, at this point her feet really were killing her.

  She nodded in agreement. “Okay, tomorrow morning then. I would feel better if we checked on the surveillance though.”

  “We can do that. I assume you’re staying in town tonight?”

  “I booked a room at the Greenleaf Motel, yes.”

  “Good. We’ll swing by to check on Broderick, then we can suss out a time for me to pick you up in the morning. Just do yourself a favor tomorrow…”

  “What’s that?”

  He dipped his head toward her feet as if he’d read her mind. “Since we’re going out to do serious police work, wear a different pair of shoes. I’m a little tired of watchin’ you dance.”

  “HARRY, this is Special Agent Mandalay,” Sheriff Carmichael said. He jerked a thumb toward Constance while pressing himself a bit deeper into the driver’s seat to allow for a slightly more unobstructed view. “Special Agent Mandalay, meet Deputy Harry Broderick.”

  Skip had pulled up so that his driver’s side window was matched up against that of the deputy’s cruiser. Therefore, the two simply nodded at one another across the span in between.

  “So… Anything?” Skip asked.

  “Same ol’, same ol’,” Broderick replied.

  He grunted in reply, “Yeah, figured as much.” He looked over to the passenger seat and addressed Constance. “There ya’ go. Harry’s on the job. Nothing to report, just like always. Ready to head back?”

  She glanced at her watch. The package delivery and drive over here had taken a little longer than expected, but it was still only now approaching 3:30. She glanced out the window then back at the sheriff. “Actually I think maybe I’d like to get out and have a look around, if you don’t mind.”

  He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Change your mind about waiting till in the morning?”

  By way of an answer she said, “It’s still light out…”

  “Your call,” he replied, an audible shrug in his voice as he shifted the vehicle into gear and started it rolling forward. “Just let me get us out of the middle of the street first.”

  Once they were parked, Constance unbuckled and climbed out of the patrol car. After swinging the door shut, she simply stood there for a moment, looking at the property over the top of the vehicle.

  The house at 632 Evergreen Lane on the north side of Hulis Township was a simple one and one-half story bungalow, sitting on what appeared to be an average-sized lot. However, while there were other houses lining the street itself, none of them were what you could consider nearby. In fact, the closest in proximity was at best a football field away. On top of that, the undeveloped lots that made up that distance between them were to the heavy side of moderately wooded with stands of conifers. The arrangement effectively left number 632 to occupy its own private corner of the world.

  “From the looks of the trees I suppose it has always been this secluded,” Constance observed aloud as Skip levered his door shut.

  “Yeah,” he replied, leaning to the side and looking around the light bar at her. “Looked pretty much the same in seventy-five. It was a different color, but…well… This place has been boarded up more than once over the years.”

  “Secluded and abandoned. That would explain why Colson chose it to hole up.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we thought too. Just don’t know why we didn’t find them here on the first pass…” Skip sighed heavily then cleared his throat. “Back when I was a kid, old man Henderson lived here. Died here too. After that we used to think the place was haunted.” He glanced over his shoulder, gazing at the structure for a good while, then added. “Who knows? Maybe now it really is.”

  “I’d like to think there’s a mundane explanation for what’s been happening,” Constance replied.

  Skip gave a quiet snort, then nodded and said, “I’d be much obliged if you could find one.”

  Sunset was still a little over an hour away, but the cloud cover that had been looming over the town all day was still firmly in place. What little daylight they had left was being consumed by the ravenous shadows from the surrounding wooded lots. Whether it was the clouds, the shadows, or something else entirely, to Constance it simply didn’t seem as “light” out here as it had just a scant few minutes earlier. The muted patina made her feel unnaturally chilled.

  She continued to stare across the top of the police cruiser, silently taking in the tableau. In stark contrast to the green-needled conifers on either side of the property, a bare-branched pin oak tree was rising out of the front yard. It was malformed, probably due to some sort of damaging wind or storm that had sheared off the weaker branches at one time or another in its history. Though dormant now, she imagined that when its foliage was full during summer, it likely had an abundance of character and provided a refreshing shade. However, at the moment there was nothing inviting about the tree. In fact, it looked to her like a spindly, tortured soul trying to escape a forgotten grave, the headstone for which was the house itself.

  The state of disrepair on the structure was evident. The once white paint on the aged clapboard siding was filthy, stained, and dull. Large areas were peeling away to reveal a coat of s
late blue beneath, some of which was peeling as well. Along the left front corner, the gutter had separated from the fascia and was hanging several inches below the edge of the roof. The downspout was bent and cocked outward, but still secured to the side of the house. It appeared to be the only thing keeping the trough from crashing to the ground.

  Plywood covered the windows on either side of the front door. Before affixing them, someone had actually taken the time to cut the sheets to fit the top arc so that they would be flush against the trim. However, combined with the weathering and fading light, that care in craftsmanship made the boarded up windows appear as a pair of dead eyes, rolling upward into the half story.

  Hair prickled along the back of Constance’s neck. The tingling sensation continued the length of her spine as a low moan began to rise in her ears. Her breath caught in her throat and she tensed. In a movement born of pure reflex she hooked her thumb and slid her arm back, smoothly shifting her coat out of the way and brushing her hand against the grip of her Sig Sauer. A heartbeat behind the forlorn sound, its source was revealed when an icy lick of wind caught her hair and whipped it around, stinging as it slapped against her weather-reddened cheeks.

  Halfway through closing her fingers on the sidearm she realized what she was doing, and Constance allowed her hand to loosen, then slide slowly back down to her side. She cast a furtive glance around and allowed herself to breathe. The deputy was still in his vehicle and the sheriff had his back to her. Fortunately, it appeared that her moment of weakness had gone unnoticed. The last thing she needed was to look like a wimp in front of them.

  “Damn,” Skip muttered.

  Constance focused on him as he turned back toward the car. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think these batteries are dead,” he complained, hammering the butt of a multi-cell flashlight against the heel of his hand, then clicking the button repeatedly. He frowned at the unlit business end of the torch and huffed, “Weird. I just changed them last week… Well…hang on. Let me borrow Broderick’s.”

  The sheriff turned and started toward the other vehicle, but Constance interrupted before he had taken three steps. “That’s okay. We can just do this tomorrow.”

  Skip stopped and looked back over the car at her. A curious expression applied itself to his face and he said. “You sure?”

  “Yes,” she replied, glancing up at the sky then back down to his face. The wind was still rising and falling, so she reached up and brushed a wayward shock of hair out of her eyes then gave him a thin smile. “Like you were saying, not much daylight left, and we won’t find anything tonight that won’t still be there in the morning.” She shrugged. “Besides, maybe your flashlight being dead is a sign.”

  He snorted out a half chuckle. “Yeah… Okay…”

  “Trust me, Skip,” she offered. “I’ve seen stranger things.”

  He looked at the flashlight, then cocked an eyebrow and regarded her quietly for a handful of seconds. Finally he said, “I’m not sure I even want to know.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. You probably don’t.”

  The chill dancing along Constance’s spine didn’t really subside until they were almost back to the sheriff’s office near the center of town. As she struggled to shake it off, she didn’t know whether she should be disturbed, embarrassed, or both.

  CHAPTER 13

  4:49 P.M. – December 22, 2010

  Greenleaf Motel

  Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

  CONSTANCE pushed aside the sad remains of what was supposed to have been a Cobb salad. She’d picked it up from That Place on her way to the motel since it had been rapidly approaching dinnertime, and she wasn’t really interested in venturing out once she’d managed to get settled. The salad was edible, but it had been devoid of avocado, shredded Colby had taken the place of the Roquefort cheese, and the only dressing they had was prepackaged pouches of ranch. In reality, Faux Chef Salad would have been a more apt label for it. Hindsight being what it was, she concluded that the meatloaf might have been a better choice.

  Stella, the waitress from earlier in the day had handled her order. She’d been courteous enough but never managed to achieve a state that could be construed as friendly. Constance had also experienced much the same reaction from the desk clerk when checking in to her room. Other than Merrie, no one seemed particularly happy about her presence here in Hulis. Even Clovis at the sheriff’s office had been aloof around her, and she still wasn’t quite sure what to make of Carmichael himself.

  After digging through her computer case twice, she finally managed to locate an old network cable buried in one of the inner pockets. The motel had boasted Internet access, however, as it turned out it was hardwired only. Apparently the concept of Wi-Fi hadn’t taken hold in this small town just yet. Based on everything else she had seen thus far, she wasn’t overly surprised.

  Still, she hoped the cable would work. Actually finding it in the bag was only the first hurdle. She couldn’t remember the last time she had used it and was sure it had been quite some time since it had even seen the light of day. Given the severe crimps in the cable’s length, its condition was definitely suspect.

  She crawled around on the floor and located the network receptacle, then plugged in. The connector immediately popped out and fell to the floor. It took three tries before she realized the locking tab on the plastic rectangle, while still hanging on, was severely cracked. She turned the cable around, pushed in the other end, and heard it click. She gave it a slight tug to be sure and let out a sigh when it remained solidly in place. That was the second hurdle. She figured maybe she could just hold the broken end in on the computer while she worked, assuming there was nothing else wrong with it. Backing out from beneath the desk, feeling a bit frustrated with all of these gyrations, she misjudged the distance and banged her head on the underside as she came up.

  “Oww,” she yelped, then mumbled, “Dammit...”

  Constance stood up, then while rubbing the back of her head with one hand, she pushed the damaged end of the blue cord into the jack on her notebook with the other. It stayed for a half heartbeat then popped out, much as she’d expected. She picked it up and jammed the clear connector back into the side of the computer once again and held it there.

  She gave it a thoughtful frown. Working like this was going to be awkward, especially if she had to type anything of length. Hunting and pecking with her left hand wasn’t going to be terribly efficient. She considered walking over to the motel office to see if they had a cable she could borrow, but something told her it would be unlikely. Besides, she didn’t even want to think about putting shoes back on right now, heels or otherwise.

  After staring at the problem for a moment she let out a quiet “hmph,” then let go of the connector. She heard it click against the desk as it fell out again, but her attention was elsewhere as she ambled over to the nightstand and opened the top drawer. Fortunately, the Gideons were on top of their game, even in Hulis. She pulled out the hardbound Bible, sauntered back to the small desk, then shoved the cord back into the socket and plopped the heavy book on top of the wire, pushing it up against the back edge of the clear plastic connector. This time it stayed firmly in place, so she pointed at it and mumbled, “don’t even think about moving,” then she carefully pressed the power button on the notebook.

  While the computer whirred through its start-up sequence, she parked herself in a straight-backed chair that was so uncomfortable she was firmly convinced it had to be from the same matched set as the one sitting in the sheriff’s office. She shifted around, trying to find a less miserable position, but finally gave up. Obviously this just wasn’t going to be her day. Snatching up her cell phone from the desk, she leaned back and thumbed through the screens to see if there were any text messages or voice mails she might possibly have missed.

  Nothing.

  She stared at the device and pursed her lips, then frowned. It was almost 5:00. Not exactly late, but that made it better than
four hours since she’d left the message for Agent Drew. Of course, it was the holidays, after all. He might be with family, if he had any. Or, he could just be avoiding her. She wasn’t really sure which was most likely. Truth is, she wasn’t really sure about anything where Drew was concerned, other than they’d had no choice but to work together on occasion and that they had a noticeable clash personality-wise.

  She considered ringing him again but stopped short of actually pulling up his number on the screen. Maybe she needed to try calling one of the other agents who had been assigned. With a little luck she might actually reach one of them instead of a machine.

  Leaning over toward the foot of the bed and stretching her arm out, she snagged the case file envelope from the folio she had tucked into the outer pocket of the computer satchel. After sitting back, she dumped the contents out on her lap. Flipping her way through the documentation, sparse as it was, she located a recent case report. She eyeballed the Kansas City based number on the attached business card and thumbed it into her cell.

  The phone trilled twice and a woman’s voice answered. “Kimball…”

  “Hi, Agent Kimball?” Constance asked.

  “Yes, who’s this?”

  “SA Mandalay, Saint Louis headquarters. I was trying to reach Agent Keene?”

  “You must have an old file,” Kimball said, “He transferred to the Seattle field office over a year ago.”

  Constance replied, “Oh, sorry. Listen, I hate to ask, but I’m in the field right now. Would you happen to have his new number?”

  “Sure, hang on a second.”

  Less than a minute later she had stabbed in the new number and thumbed TALK. After a trio of rings, a voice issued from the speaker. “This is Keene...”

  “Keene, hi, you may not remember me, but this is Special Agent Mandalay from the Saint Louis headquarters,” Constance announced.