Gingerbread Man

by Maggie Shayne

  Holly didn't want to remember. It hurt too much. She lay down, though. She wrapped her mother in her arms just the way her mom used to do for her when she was going through the worst of it. And the way she used to hold both of them, when they were afraid at night, after a scary movie or a bad dream. Ivy, with her big blue eyes and those pale lashes, and the chubby cheeks she still hadn't outgrown. Tiny little baby teeth. That was one of the images Holly carried with her. Those tiny teeth when Ivy smiled. And the dimples. And the way her eyes would scrunch when she really laughed hard. It had been a long time since she'd allowed that beautiful baby face to haunt her mind. A long time since thoughts of how Ivy's pretty, innocent face must have looked while some monster had tortured and raped and killed her. The terror.

  She mustn't think of those things. She had to take care of her mother.

  But somehow, she couldn't stop the memories. She heard her baby sister's screams, the last sounds she'd ever heard her make, echoing in her mind, over and over. And she couldn't erase the sound. She closed her eyes to drown it out, tried to hear anything else, think of anything else. And then she found something to focus on, and aimed her entire attention at it. The soft, steady tick, tick, tick of the clock beside her mother's bed. Yes. Yes, she thought silently. And inside her mind, she whispered, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight...

  ***

  VINCE LEFT. HE didn’t want to, but there was work to be done, and he couldn't do it sitting around Holly's house watching her struggle with her demons.

  Mostly because he didn't want to watch her struggle. He wanted to take her demons, slay them for her, fix everything, make it okay, make her okay. And he knew that if he tried he'd end up letting her down, and kicking himself for it for the rest of his life. He might be tempted to try all the same. But, damn, he didn't think she could survive another disappointment

  She had to do this on her own.

  Rescue did not work with problems this big.

  "You were right about the light at the dock, Vince. It looks as if it's been tampered with." Mallory sighed, waited for a reply, didn't get one. "You all right?" the chief asked.

  Vince shook off his thoughts and turned to face the older man. "Just thinking."

  "About Holly?"

  "No," he lied. "About how quick my ass will be roasted when I call my boss today."

  The chief shook his head a little. "You withheld evidence?"

  "Nah. I turned over everything I had. The problem is, I was taken off this case. My leave of absence wasn't by choice."

  "I see. So you kept right on working it. And now you're close to flushing out a child killer." He shook his head. "Yep, they'll hate you for that. Probably even pin a medal on you just to teach you a lesson."

  "You don't know my boss."

  "You weren't thinking about your boss."

  He glanced sideways. "Holly has problems that I can't fix for her."

  "Holly has ghosts. She's also strong, sharp, intelligent, and stubborn as they come. And if you tried fixing things for her, she'd likely club you upside the head. She's fixing things for herself. Doing just fine until all this cropped up, and she'll be doing fine again once we get past it. So what's your problem, son?"

  Vince shot the man an impatient glare.

  "You're afraid she's gonna fuck you up, is what it is. You don't want to risk it. You're scared to death of that woman."

  "You don't know a thing about it, Chief."

  The chief shrugged, unoffended. "Listen. Let me call your boss for you, huh?"

  Vince shook his head. "It's my mess. I'll clean it up. But expect a call later on. He's gonna want to get your end of this, and more than likely there will be Feds crawling all over town by this time tomorrow. Be ready."

  "Will do." He pulled into the curving drive and stopped. Vince got out of the car, held the door open and leaned down. "You're gonna keep a man on Holly's place today?"

  "Only when I can't be there myself."

  "Good."

  "You know, you can set up in the office, if you want," the chief said before Vince could close the door. "Work from there, if you think it'll help."

  "By tomorrow, they'll probably have commandeered any space you have for a base of operations. No, I'll be okay right here."

  "All right. Call if you need anything."

  "Actually—"

  "Yeah?"

  Vince sighed. "Chief, how well do you know Reginald D'Voe?”

  The chief's eyes clouded over. "He's got nothing to do with any of this."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  "You gotta trust me on this, son. Reggie has secrets, sure. But digging around in his past will only dredge up unnecessary pain for innocent folks. He's a good man."

  "Okay. If you say so," Vince said, because it was clearly the only thing to say. He didn't believe it though. D'Voe had warned him off. And now the chief seemed to be doing the same. The old actor had something to hide, and Vince had a sick feeling in his belly that maybe he was starting to get an inkling of what it was.

  ***

  DORIS HAD FALLEN into a heavy sleep within a few minutes, so Holly had slipped quietly out of the bed, run herself a long, steaming bath, and spent a good hour soaking in it. It eased her aching muscles. God, last night had beaten her up pretty good. She had bruises on her that she'd been unaware of. On her rib cage, her side, high on her thigh. Her head still ached, but it was a dull ache. Most of her distress was emotional, not physical. And the hot bath wasn't much help for that.

  She lay back in the water, looked up, saw the medicine cabinet, still open wide, and the row of little brown plastic bottles on the shelf inside. They would help. She could pop a few pills and put herself on level ground again.

  She'd been off her meds for a while now. A long while, and she'd been proud of it. It meant she could survive without them. But maybe she wasn't as free of them as she'd thought. After all, she'd needed to keep them nearby. Dr. Graycloud disapproved, of course, nagged her about it constantly. He'd even told her mother to keep track of the contents of the little brown bottles so he would know if she started using any of them again. But she hadn't. They were a crutch she kept around in case she needed one. She was still terrified of being without the wide array of pills.

  And, now, now maybe it was a good thing they were here. Old friends. Maybe she would need them before this was all over.

  There was a noise in the hall. Movement. Fear jumped in her heart, and she got up fast, water sluicing down her body. Was someone out there? How long had they been in the house? God, she'd stayed too long in the tub. Her mother was alone, across the hall. She reached blindly, found a big towel, pulled it to her and stepped onto the floor, dripping, leaving little puddles. Rivulets ran from her hair down her back as she anchored the towel around her. She ignored the trickling water and stepped slowly out of the bathroom, into her bedroom, toward the door. Someone was moving around out there in the hallway, or maybe the kitchen.

  She needed a weapon. Didn't have one. She had locked the doors after Vince and the chief left. Bill was still outside, wasn't he?

  Softly, she went to the bedroom door, gripped the knob, turned it slowly, pulled just a little.

  In the hall, her mother strode past with a big box in her arms.

  "Mom?" Holly flung the door wider, then followed her mother down the hall. "What are you doing up?"

  “I couldn't sleep. But, Holly, look. Look what I found."

  She emerged into the small kitchen and set the box on a chair. It was the only free spot. Holly stopped cold, and looked around her. Ivy was everywhere. Photos of her smiling, those dimples, the blue eyes. Soft blonde hair. Holly's own hair had been that same golden color when she was a baby, her mother had often told her. That color didn't last. It faded, like innocence. Like Ivy. Photos were everywhere, framed, unframed, hanging, standing, propped up. And clothes. Little-girl dresses, hung from the backs of chairs. Hair ribbons dangled atop them. On the table, Ivy's favorite doll lay looking forlorn
and abandoned. Its hair had been cut off, so only little nubs stuck out the holes in the top of its head. One eye was stuck open. It wore no clothes. A tea set was beside the doll. A puzzle. Some coloring books, open, with sloppily colored pages and Ivy's name scrawled in kindergarten penmanship across the tops.

  She could almost hear her baby sister's laughter. She could almost see her standing there, defiantly, the baby doll in one hand, the scissors in the other, blonde locks on the floor around her chubby bare feet. She could almost hear her little voice. "Real babies don't have hair!"

  "Oh, God, Mom..."

  "I was just... remembering. We don't do that enough."

  Holly swallowed hard. "We stopped doing that. We decided it was too painful. That's why we packed all this stuff away."

  "That was before."

  Holly shuddered. Jesus, she couldn't take this. Not without help. She turned back to the hallway, having made up her mind. A Valium. Maybe something stronger. Anything, just to dull reality.

  "She's not at rest. She'll never be at rest until her killer pays, Holly, and if Ivy isn't at peace, we can't be either. We can't forget her. We can't pack her things away. We can't—"

  Holly took a single step into the hallway, toward her room, her pills, her crutch, and the phone rang. It froze her in her tracks. Doris grabbed it up before it could ring again, and immediately said, "Hello? Jim, is it you? Have you caught the man yet?"

  "Mom, hon, it's okay," Holly said, turning around, going back.

  "Vince?" Doris said, then she shot Holly a look. "It's Vince, dear. Vince, have you caught the man yet? Have you?"

  "Mom, please …"

  Holly had her hand out. Her mother listened to whatever Vince said, then blinking back tears, handed the phone to Holly. "He hasn't arrested anyone yet. But he will. It won't be long now. Your Vince is a good man, I can see that."

  She kept on walking, right past Holly, back to the table where she picked up the doll, and held it to her chest.

  "Vince?"

  "Jesus, Holly, what the hell is going on there?"

  "Nothing. Mom's ... I'll just give her another Valium. She'll be all right. What happened?"

  "Nothing. Research. I just wanted to check on you."

  "We're fine."

  "You don't sound fine. Maybe you should've come with me after all."

  "No." She glanced at her mother, going through yet another box of her sister's things. "She shouldn't be alone right now."

  He was silent for a moment. Then, "Is Bill still outside?"

  Holly glanced toward the window. "Yes. We're fine. Safe and fine. Do your job, Vince. The faster we end this, the better."

  There was a pause. "Are you sure you're all right?"

  “Yes."

  “Okay. Okay. I'll talk to you later.”

  ***

  VlNCE HUNG UP the phone and tried to shake the feeling that something wasn't right, but he couldn't seem to get rid of it. Holly had sounded strange. He didn't like it.

  Goddamn it, what if he'd been wrong in thinking she could get through this? What if she couldn't? She'd been alone for hours with her mother, who'd sounded completely spaced out on the phone.

  Hell. He had to get over there and find out for himself. Right or wrong, he had to.

  Vince put in a call to Marty Cantrell, Holly's uncle. But it was his wife, Jen, who answered the phone. He'd met her, briefly, at the bonfire. "I'm sorry, Vince. Marty's working today."

  "Oh. I didn't realize he had an outside job."

  "It's not much. Not even full time anymore. But when they need him, he still makes deliveries for Strofman's Bakery. They had several orders to go out today, and one of their regulars called in sick, so..."

  "That's all right. Really. Maybe you can help."

  "Well, sure, if I can. What is it? Is Holly all right?"

  "Yeah, but I'm not sure about your sister. Doris isn't doing too well. I think she could use your help."

  The woman listened as he told her the very essentials. A half hour later, he was pulling up to Holly's place. Jen Cantrell and Ernie Graycloud arrived immediately behind him. He thanked them for coming and went to the house. He knocked once, then walked in when there was no answer, using the key Holly had given him earlier.

  "Hell," he muttered, standing there, taking in the scene. It was worse than he'd thought

  Doris sat at the small kitchen table, surrounded by toys, photos, little-girl clothes. She was smiling weakly, but there was a faraway look in her eyes. She glanced up as they entered, met his gaze. "Oh, Vince, it's you. Did you find him yet?"

  Vince sighed, glanced at the Doc.

  "I've got her," he said. "Go find Holly."

  Vince nodded and strode through the house, into the hall, to Holly's room. She wasn't inside, but her bathroom door was open. The bedroom was dark, but the light in the bathroom was on, and it spilled out. Something quaked just a little in Vince's chest.

  He moved closer, tried to make himself hurry, but found his feet unwilling to move. It was as if he was slogging through muck. Closer, he could see bottles of pills on the sides of the sink. Some standing upright, some tipped on their sides. The medicine cabinet was open.

  "Jesus. Holly?"

  He moved still closer, hand on the door, pushing it wider, and he glimpsed the water in the tub. It was full.

  "No." He slammed the door open all the way, and lunged into the bathroom.

  No one was in the tub. The water inside was clear, with a few suds floating on its surface. A damp towel was slung over the side. His entire body uncoiled, but his stomach was still clenched and churning.

  He turned, glancing at the pills. The assortment would have made an addict happy.

  A soft sound reached him, laughter. A child's laughter. He turned, and followed the sound out through the living room. That's when he finally saw Holly. She was outside on the back deck, beyond the glass doors. That little girl from next door was with her, and they had mounds of fabric on the table between them, along with scissors and pincushions and various other implements of stitchery.

  He looked at Holly's face, her eyes. She was clear-eyed, alert. She was okay.

  For just a second, he felt the power of his relief. Much greater than it should have been. He didn't want to spend time trying to probe into why that was—not now.

  She looked up as if she felt his eyes on her, and met them. He saw relief there, too. Some kind of tension just vanished. She was glad to see him. More than glad. She had said she didn't need to be with him. She'd been lying.

  She stood up, and he strode up to her, wrapped her in his arms, and hugged her hard. He didn't even think about it until the awkwardness set in. Then he let go, stepped back.

  She shuffled her feet. "So, what are you doing here?"

  "I didn't like the way you sounded on the phone," he said.

  "Hi, Detective O'Mally!"

  He turned and pasted an "everything's just fine" smile on his face. "Hello, there, Bethany."

  She nodded. "Wait till you see what Holly and I have been doing." As she spoke, she gathered up the mounds of fabric from the table. The girl stuffed the fabric into a shopping bag, from which the very tip of a pointy black hat stuck up.

  "Well, show me!" he said. "I'm dying to see it."

  "No way." She picked the bag up by its twin handles. "This costume is top secret until the party at Mr. D'Voe's, tomorrow night." She tossed her blonde curls dramatically. "You'll just have to wait." Then she grinned, ran to Holly, hugged her waist. "Thank you, Holly. This is the best costume ever!" Then she let go. "I can't wait to show Mom." She ran off the back deck, and across the lawns toward her own house. Halfway there she shouted back, "I hope your mom feels better, Holly!"

  "Me, too," Holly whispered, but not loud enough for the child to hear. She watched until the kid was inside her own place, then sighing, turned to the table, and began picking up sewing items and returning them to the basket

  "I brought your aunt and the doc," Vince said. He joine
d her in picking up. There were countless scraps of fabric to be tossed into a nearby wastebasket. “Thought your mom could use the help."

  "I know, I saw them come in. Thanks. I don't know if it'll help but—"

  "Holly, I looked for you in your room first."

  "I thought I'd sit out here. I had a clear view of Mom, and I couldn't very well take Bethany in there when she came over. Not with Mom in this state." She shrugged. "It's not like I was reaching her anyway. She's withdrawn into herself."

  "Yeah. Listen, I have to ask. What's up with all the pills?"

  She looked up at him, frowned. "God. did I leave them out?"

  "There's a goddamn pharmacy in there."

  She sighed. "I haven't needed chemical help in a long time. But I keep them. I guess it's a security issue. Just knowing they're there, you know? I was looking for something for Mom. Gave her a Valium, but it didn't touch her. To be honest, I damn near took something myself." Her lips twisted.

  "But you didn't."

  She lifted her eyes. "No, I didn't need them." She smiled a little weakly, but, still, it was something. "I guess I learned something about myself today. I mean, it can't get much worse than this, can it?"

  It could, and he was afraid it would, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

  "And I didn't need them. Maybe I can throw them out at last."

  "Maybe that would be a good idea."

  She tilted her head. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"

  He averted his eyes.

  She frowned. "You walked in and saw the pills and— Vince, did you really think I'd swallowed a bunch of them, or something?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know what I thought."

  Moving closer, Holly grabbed his arm, studied his face. "Even at my worst, I never contemplated suicide." She paused. He knew there was more, and he just waited. She eased her grip on his arm. "That's a lie. I... I did think about it. But I couldn't do it. I was the only daughter my mother had left. I couldn't take that away from her."

  “For the record, Red, I'm damned glad to hear it." He looked past her, back inside the house. Doc had Doris on the couch now, had his stethoscope out. "Let's go see how your mother is doing, huh?"