Gingerbread Man

by Maggie Shayne

  "You look great, Amanda," Holly said. But Vince noticed she was looking at him more often than Amanda. Maybe looking at him looking at Amanda, he thought.

  As soon as they stepped inside, the atmosphere was different. Little goblins in every shape, size, and model were laughing and shrieking in turn. One group wore plastic ponchos over their costumes, bobbing for apples in the room's center. Another bunch gathered around a large table carving pumpkins with safety knives, under parental supervision. More were seated at a table near a Gypsy fortune teller who read their palms. The Gypsy bore a striking resemblance to the crabby town librarian, Maddie Baker.

  One little witch raced up to Holly and bounded up and down with glee. "Everybody loves my costume, Holly! It's fantastic!"

  "Well, stand back so I can see!" Smiling, Holly held the little girl by her shoulders, and examined her. She was dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West, complete with green face, long nose, striped socks, and singed broomstick. Her conical black hat sported a thin dusting of green glitter, and had a tiny furry spider dangling from its brim by a length of silver thread.

  "You're gorgeous."

  Bethany giggled. "Am not!" Then she raced off to join a group of friends. A woman cleared her throat, drawing Vince's gaze. He recognized the woman as Bethany's mother, Val Stevens, even though she wore braids and gingham. Dorothy, he presumed.

  "Thank you so much for helping Bethany with the costume, Holly. I wouldn't have been able to do half the job you did."

  "You did a fantastic job on the makeup, Val," Holly said. "And you look great, too!"

  "Oh, this." She glanced down at herself. "Bethany insisted. If she'd had her way we'd have bought a puppy to play Toto, too." Lifting her gaze again, her expression grew more serious. "I heard your mother was taken to the hospital. How is she doing?"

  Holly sighed. "She's sedated, resting."

  "What happened? God, she seemed fine the last time I saw her."

  Holly searched for a plausible answer. "Stress, really. An irregular heartbeat. They're doing tests."

  Val sighed long and low. "I'm so sorry. She's strong, you know. I mean, to have come through what she has— she must be stronger than I can even imagine. God, to survive losing a child..." Her gaze strayed to where Bethany was dancing with friends to The Monster Mash, and Val bit her lower lip. "I think it would kill me if I lost Bethany."

  "You never know what you can survive until it happens," Holly said softly.

  "Oh, I know, I know. All I meant was, if your mom came through all of that, she's going to handle whatever this new problem is just fine."

  Her eyes asked for more details. Holly just gave the woman's hand a squeeze and said, "Thank you for that, Val. I know you're right." Then she took Vince's hand, clutching it tightly, and led him toward the refreshment table.

  He gave her hand an automatic squeeze and she sent him a grateful look.

  The neon-green punch had blocks of ice the size and shape of human hands floating in it. Vince dipped her out a glass, handed it to her. Jerry helped himself. "So, is there anyone in particular we should be watching, Vince?"

  Vince shrugged, looking around. "Where's Reggie?"

  "Oh, he'll make his big entrance soon. He likes to wait for all the kids to arrive, give them some time to enjoy the party for a while first. Or at least that's the way Aunt Jen told me it always used to work." Holly glanced at her watch. "Any time now, if he's true to history."

  Vince nodded, looking around at the costume-clad adults, trying to get a solid grip on who was who in case he needed to know later. Doc Graycloud was in character. He wore a huge coyote's head like a hood, its yellow teeth bared in a perpetual smile, black marble eyes shining, gray-brown fur hanging down and forming a cape that ended in a long, thick tail. Vince stared for a long moment, trying to decide if it was a manufactured pelt, or a real one, and then decided he didn't really want to know. Holly's uncle Marty was easy to spot. He came as a lumberjack, flannel shirt and suspenders, a rubber axe in one hand. He'd darkened his cheeks and chin to depict whiskers, and wore a knit cap on his head. Vince recognized others in the crowd as well, over the next half hour. The teenaged waitresses from the cafe. The kid who manned the gas pumps in town.

  "Vince, Holly—how's it going?"

  They both turned to see Chief Mallory standing close to them, a plastic tumbler of punch in his hand. He was eyeing Jerry curiously. "Who's this?"

  "My partner, Jerry Donovan. Jerry, this is Dilmun's chief of police, Jim Mallory."

  Jerry nodded hello, shook Jim's hand.

  "Where's your costume, Chief?" Vince asked.

  The man shrugged. "I came as a police chief." He glanced at Holly. "How you holding up, hon?"

  "I'm okay, but who's with Mom?"

  "Your aunt Jen is there. Bill, too. He relieved Ray of guard duty. Ray went home, got a few hours sleep, and now he's here, outside, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. I thought it would be best we both attend this shindig, see if anything comes up. No sense taking chances in case this maniac really is in town, with all the kids here, I mean."

  Holly nodded, but Vince felt the shiver that went through her.

  "What happened to the Feds you were expecting?" the chief asked Vince.

  "They think I’m full of hot air. I need solid evidence to get them down here."

  "Hell, I hope to God we never get any."

  He stopped speaking as the lights flashed on and off twice, and then remained off. Thunder rumbled like a drum roll, and a tiny explosion blasted off at the top of the old curving staircase. Smoke rolled, and when it cleared, Reginald D'Voe stood there, his Dracula costume perfectly backlit, one side of the cape drawn over the lower half of his face. He lowered it slowly as he came down the stairs. If not for his noticeable limp, it would have been perfect.

  He spoke in a thick Transylvanian accent to the rapt audience. "Children of the night. Velcome to my humble abode! Now, if you have the courage to follow me, I vill lead you on a journey among the living and the dead, where surprises and perhaps a few treasures can be found!" He added his maniacal laughter, and then led them all to the front door, out it, and down the steps.

  "Where's he taking them?" Vince asked, a prickle of unease dancing up the back of his neck as he stepped out into the night's chill.

  "It's a parade around the yard," Amanda said, startling him by speaking from nearby. “There's junk jewelry and candy hidden in various spots, along with some theatrical scares. Watch." She pointed.

  Vince watched, as did the parents who were all crowded onto and around the front steps. At every tombstone, some creature would spring up, or a pre-recorded growl or shriek would sound. Every kid screeched in horror and delight at each and every stop along the way. The parade took them outside the house and all the way around the mock cemetery that filled the front lawn.

  Vince relaxed a little as he watched. Even when they got to the farthest reaches, where it was darker and more difficult to see the children, he didn't get nervous. That wrought-iron fence surrounded the whole lawn. And the chief's cop, Ray, was out by the gate, keeping track of anyone coming or going.

  A hand emerged from the earth at one tombstone. A ghostly apparition floated from another. Skeletons leaped up and danced at one more. The children squealed, but left each site with brand-new goodies for their bags.

  The parade took the better part of an hour. By the time they all marched back to the house, every child had a bag full of treats, and most of the parents were wiped out, and had taken refuge in the living room, near the fireplace to await their return.

  "Now what?" Vince asked as the little demons and goblins were herded back into the house.

  "Now, my children," Amanda intoned, almost as if in answer to his question. "Come, come, gather near. It's time for the Count to tell you a delightfully scary Halloween ghost story. And when it's done, the party must end. And you know what happens then?"

  "Trick-or-treating!" the children shouted.

  Vi
nce had to give his head a shake, and made a mental note to have his hearing checked when he got his next physical. Holly, beside him, laughed softly. "Reggie throws a hell of a party."

  "Come, little ones, gather round," Reggie said in his heavily accented, scary voice. He was in an ancient rocking chair now, sitting near the fireplace in his living room.

  "Man, I gotta bring my kids out here for this next year," Jerry said. "They'd love this stuff."

  "You ought to be with them tonight," Vince said. "Instead of out here holding my hand."

  "Kate's got it covered." Jerry looked at Vince. "She knows we're trying to make it safer for all the little demons, partner. She understands."

  Vince nodded. He took a seat in the back of the room where all the other adults had been relocated. He listened only halfheartedly as the old man spun his horrific tale to the wide-eyed kids who were seated around him on the floor, staring up at him adoringly. He didn't make it too scary, Vince noted. And he watched Reggie watching the youngest kids in the group closely, making sure they didn't get too frightened.

  Hard to believe he was a monster.

  Chief Mallory came and stood in front of the adults in the back, motioned with his hands for them to follow him, and quietly led them all to the foyer, off the other end of the large living room.

  "What's this about. Chief?" one man asked.

  The chief drew a breath, glanced at Vince. Vince gave him a nod of encouragement, and he returned it. "All right, listen, I don't want to alarm anyone, here, but I have information you people have a right to know about." He paused, drew a breath. "We have reason to believe there could be a child predator in the area."

  The gasp that went up, the chill that went through them all, was universal. Vince felt it move through the parents in the room.

  "I don't want anyone to panic. We don't know for sure, but I figured it was better to let you know now, than to risk not telling you and having something happen to one of the kids."

  "Something like what, Chief?"

  He glanced at the questioner, but didn't answer. "As I said, we're probably wrong. This is a very slight possibility. But it is Halloween, and I think it will be best for all of you to be alert tonight. Don't let your kids go out trick-or-treating alone. Not even with a group of other kids. Every parent needs to be out there. Keep them close, keep a good eye on them, and get them home early."

  Many voiced questions, but no one got loud, and Vince could see them gazing worriedly at their kids. He saw Holly, looking toward that glittery witch hat that poked up from the center of the group of kids and he knew she was worried, too. The chief just held up his hands until it got quiet again. "That's all I can tell you, because that's all I know. Keep a close watch, stay with 'em. That's all. Now I have to go." Turning, he headed out. Vince took Holly's arm. "Time to go."

  She shook her head. "I want to see Bethany before we go," she said. Vince turned with her as the kids came in hordes from the living room, and he watched the big pointy hat with the green glitter make its way through the crowd.

  Finally, the child made her way through. But the girl wearing Bethany Stevens's hat was not Bethany Stevens.

  Bethany's mother stared at the child. Panic slowly made its way into her face as her gaze bounced from child to child, to every corner of the room. She knew. Vince read it in her face, and believed it. There was some kind of alarm built into mothers where their kids were concerned. He'd seen it in action. They knew things before there was a clear reason to know them. He saw that moment happen in Val Stevens's eyes.

  "Oh, shit, no," he muttered.

  That was just about the time Bethany's mother started screaming.

  ***

  "HOLLY? HOLLY? DID they catch him yet?" Doris asked of the woman who sat beside her hospital bed.

  Jen Cantrell leaned closer, stroking Doris's forehead, smoothing her hair. "It's all right, hon. It's okay, it's me, it's Jen. I'm right here."

  Doris opened her eyes, blinking them slowly. She squinted as if it were hard to see, then tried to sit up. "Jenny?"

  "Yes, sis, I'm right here."

  "Poor Ivy," Doris moaned. "She's not at peace. She can't be at peace."

  Jenny Cantrell closed her eyes tight at that old, familiar shaft of pain. Poor Doris. "Honey, listen to me. It's been years since we lost Ivy. And she is at peace. She's in heaven, she's fine. You know that, right? You're here, in Dilmun. Holly will be here soon to say good night."

  "No. No, Jenny, you don't understand."

  Jen managed to get her to lie back. She poured water from a pitcher, and held it to her sister's lips, got her to drink a little, and tried to keep her own voice soothing and level. "You're very agitated. I'll call the nurse."

  "Did Holly tell you what she and Vince found out? Did she?"

  "No, sweetie. But you just rest now. I'll just get the nurse and then—"

  Doris's hand grabbed hers as she turned to go. "That evil man lied. He's not the killer. He's not. The man who took my Ivy is still running free." She shook her head back and forth, back and forth. "How can I live, how can I bear it?"

  Jen went still. She didn't turn, didn't look, just stood there, going cold all over. "Hubey Welles confessed, Doris. Honey, don't you remember?"

  "He was going to get the death penalty. By confessing to other crimes, he got life instead. That's why he said he did it."

  Jen swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. "Doris, honey, how do you know all of this?"

  "Vince and Holly spoke to him. They went to see him in prison. Holly remembered about the eyes being different, and Vince figured it out."

  Turning slowly, Jen examined her younger sister's face, searching it for signs of dementia or delusion. Surely this couldn't be true. "Are you saying the man who killed Ivy is still running around free somewhere?"

  "I'll find him. I swear, Jenny, I'll kill him myself. All this time, I thought... and he was—how can I bear it?"

  Jen's heart seemed to turn to liquid in her chest. "Oh, Doris. Oh, sweetie, no. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." She sank onto the edge of the bed, stroking her sister's hair. It reminded her of when they were girls together. Doris would come home all upset over some trivial thing, and cry. God, she'd always been so sensitive. It was always Jen who would hold her, comfort her, just the way she was doing now.

  Jen held her tight, whispering and trying to comfort while depressing the call button with a free hand. Images of her sweet, angelic niece played through her mind, and tears choked her, as her own deepest fears came back to haunt her, just as surely as her sister's had.

  ***

  IT WAS AS if the world slowed down. Holly watched through a thick, distorted glass, heard as if listening from the farthest end of a tunnel. Panic. Mothers, gripping their children so hard their nails dug into the vinyl shoulders of their store-bought costumes. Val Stevens was running from room to room, shouting for Bethany over and over again. The chief hadn't gone six steps from the house when he heard the commotion and came tearing back. He, Jerry, and Vince spoke rapidly to one another before springing into action. The chief yanked the radio from his belt and spoke to Ray out by the gate. Jerry grabbed a phone and punched numbers. Vince started organizing men to search.

  Reginald was white as a sheet, and trying to catch up with Val, to calm her. Everyone was in motion. Everyone was moving, shouting, talking, searching, doing something.

  Everyone except for Holly. And one other person.

  Amanda.

  She sat stone still near the fireplace in the rocking chair her uncle had occupied moments before, her expression blank, eyes vacant. She looked the way Holly felt Stunned. Shocked. Paralyzed. And for just one moment their eyes met, and Holly knew they were experiencing this in very similar ways.

  "Snap out of it, Red." Vince's voice was firm, his hands tight on her forearms. "There's no time for this. Come on, focus. I need your help here. I need you pissed. Up and fighting, like you've been doing up to now. Don't quit on me."

  She blinked, and
made herself look at him. Her knees felt like water. She hadn't realized it before, but now she felt the shaking, the tightness in her chest as her breaths came faster, and her heart began to batter her rib cage. She hadn't felt the panic attack creeping up on her yet. Vince had spotted it before she had.

  "No," he commanded. "Don't you do this, Holly. Not now. There's no time for it now." His arm clamped around her waist like a vise, he propelled her to the punch bowl, scooped up a half melted finger from one of the ice hands, and laid it against the nape of her neck.

  She sucked in a breath at the coldness on her skin, but then steadied herself, let the ice do its work. It was effective. She covered his hand with her own to keep the ice there, lifted her head and looked Vince squarely in the eye. "Bethany?"

  "Missing. We've got all the exits covered, and the chief is leading a room-by-room search. We've got reinforcements on the way."

  "State police?"

  He nodded, taking her back toward the fireplace, setting her down. She looked at Amanda, knowing the woman was still lost in fear, the way Holly had been only moments ago. Holly took her hand, squeezed it hard. "Fight it, Amanda. If I can do it, so can you." Taking the melting ice finger from her own neck, Holly laid it across the back of Amanda's. The blue eyes fluttered, met hers briefly.

  Vince gave a shrill whistle. Silence fell. "I want all parents and children here by the fireplace, now."

  The lights were up now, as parents and children gathered hesitantly, their eyes wide and frightened and wet and suspicious when they fell on each other.

  "We need to try to piece together what happened," Vince said.

  "Piece together, my ass! We should be searching for Bethany!"

  "I just want to take my children home, where they're safe!"

  Vince held up his hands for silence, but, just when it quieted down, Val Stevens's shrieking made its way from somewhere above as she raced through the house in search of her daughter. If Reggie had caught up to her at all, she had apparently shaken him again.