08 - December Dread

by Lourey, Jess

  “I think we’ve done our best here, and I have to free some of this coffee. Will you print out all the profiles, and then we can head back to Paynesville?”

  Mrs. Berns nodded.

  The bathrooms were down a long hallway halfway between the front door and the computers that Mrs. Berns and I had camped out at. Both the men’s and the women’s were single stall rooms, and the women’s was locked. I leaned against the wall, and closed my eyes for just a moment. Even with all the coffee in my system, I could just about drift off standing up.

  “Holding up the wall?”

  I jumped, banging my skull on the knotty pine knickknack shelf overhead. I turned, rubbing my head. Phillip was standing behind me, also leaning against the wall. His relaxed, over-familiar posture made my skin crawl. “I think the men’s room is open,” I said.

  He smiled. From a distance, it would appear a harmless grin. Up close, I could see the swollen gums and excessively pointed eye teeth. For some reason, I thought of crystal meth. “You don’t want company?” he asked.

  “I’m waiting for the bathroom.”

  “You’re a feisty one.” He reached out toward my face. Horrified, I swatted his hand away. Behind him, laughter bubbled out of the main café. Those people felt very far away.

  “Relax. You have some crumbs on your chin.” He smiled again, his eyes dancing.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me,” I spat. I couldn’t tell if I was over- or under-reacting. I pushed past him, to the warmth and normalcy of the coffee shop. “Come on,” I said to Mrs. Berns.

  She appeared ready to argue, but then she saw my face. She strode to the front counter to pay the computer’s by-the-hour usage fee while I erased its history. I sensed rather than saw Phillip returning to the main room, but I refused to look at him until he’d taken his seat. When Mrs. Berns and I walked out, he was deep in conversation with a couple near the front windows and gave us only a passing glance. I followed Mrs. Berns outside, so busy trying to get my head on straight that I didn’t notice Agent Briggs until my face was smushed into his chest.

  Thirty-two

  “I’m sorry!”

  He glared at me. The day was gray and frozen, much like his expression, and the air so cold that the inside of my nostrils flash-froze. Between gritted teeth, he said, “Mira James. I thought I’d run into you, as we seem to be stopping at all the same places lately. You visited the Running household and got the names of the other women who received wreaths.” It was not a question.

  Over his shoulder, I spotted Mrs. Berns scurrying toward my car. When she reached it, she dropped to the ground and army crawled to the passenger side. “I’m a reporter, Agent Briggs,” I said.

  He reached into an inner jacket pocket and pulled out a BlackBerry. He removed a leather glove with his teeth and punched a few keys. “You are a librarian. You do freelance work for a Podunk newspaper consisting mostly of writing a food column featuring inedible recipes.”

  I tried to peer at the screen. “It doesn’t say that.”

  “Let me save us both time. This isn’t cute, this isn’t a game, and you’re not helping anyone. In this particular episode, the dead bodies stay dead. Get it?”

  My cheeks burned. Behind me, the coffee shop door opened. The couple leaving were laughing, but stopped immediately when they stepped outside. They must have sensed the mood of our exchange. Was Phillip watching?

  Briggs leaned in closer, so close that I could see the ice crystals forming on his mustache below his nostrils. “If you don’t stay out of my way, I will have you arrested. If I see or hear from you again, ever, I will have you arrested. I’ll make up the charges if I have to, and no one will question it. I cannot make my feelings on this matter any clearer.” He continued to pierce me with his eyes and then, abruptly, broke contact and entered the coffee shop.

  My eyes began to tear. I told myself it was the cold and hurried across the street, head down. I unlocked the car and slid in, and Mrs. Berns immediately followed, staying below the window line.

  “What the Sam Hill was that about?”

  My hands were shaking. “He’s not real happy that I was at Cindy Running’s house yesterday.”

  “Just you, right? He doesn’t know about me.”

  “He didn’t mention you.”

  “Thank god. He looked mad enough to kill. Don’t worry, though. I’m sure he’ll get over it.” She patted me absent-mindedly on the knee. “What happened to you in the bathroom, by the way? Bad deposit?”

  “I didn’t even make it into the bathroom. Phillip met me in the hall and laid a whole pile of creepy vibes on me. He actually tried to touch my face.”

  “Ew. I take back anything positive I said about him. He feel like a killer?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so tired that I’m not sure which way is up.”

  She pointed at the street. “I can tell you that way is south, and you better get driving. It’s two hours to Paynesville, and you have to make it to afternoon Mass.”

  I was only too happy to oblige. The sky overhead was the color of hardening cement when we pulled out of Orelock. The roads were clear but the news on the radio was grim. According to MPR, Minnesota was on a virtual lockdown. Women were told to call the police if they received any suspicious correspondence and to temporarily cease all online dating.

  “The FBI sure changed its tune,” Mrs. Berns said. “Didn’t Angry Eyes Briggs pooh-pooh your online dating connection just two days ago?”

  I reached to turn the heat up, but it was already fully cranked. “Guess they couldn’t ignore it any longer. Or they had made the connection themselves long ago and either found a way around all the lawsuits that are sure to emerge or decided putting all those women at risk wasn’t worth the possibility of trapping him.”

  “What about our Craig/Greg guy? What do we do with him?”

  I sighed deeply “He’s definitely suspicious. Briggs doesn’t take me seriously, unfortunately. Specifically, during our little chat in front of the coffee shop? He said he’d have me arrested if he saw or heard from me again.”

  “So we just forget the profiles we printed out in Orelock?”

  I signaled to pass a Sunday driver. “I think I’ll just hand the information off to the police, or maybe to the reporter from Chicago, Adam, and he can tell Briggs.”

  “We can call the reporter on my cell.”

  I dug in my pocket for the worn business card and handed it to her. She dialed and put the phone up to my ear when it started ringing. I heard three chirps before it clicked to his message.

  Hi, this is Adam. Sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number, and I’ll call back as soon as I’m able.

  “Adam, this is Mira James. Please give me a call when you get back, either at the Relax Inn in Paynesville or at this number. The cell belongs to a friend.”

  I handed the phone back to Mrs. Berns to hang up. “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?”

  “You’re going to pull into that gas station so I can pee?”

  I shook my head but tapped my right turn signal and pulled into the station’s parking lot. “Copy catters and paranoia are going to take over. The whole state is going to be awash in tiny-minded people sending candy canes to enemies, and with every woman seeing threats under her bed.”

  Thirty-three

  As sure as eggs, we were pulling into Paynesville when the radio announced that the FBI tip lines had crashed due to a large volume of calls. It seemed to be a combination of people reporting the sinister appearance of candy canes and/or suddenly noticing suspicious behaviors in their neighbors. Agent Walter Briggs was introduced and offered only a brief statement:

  “The FBI is using all the resources at its disposal in order to capture the person the media has dubbed the Candy Cane Killer. We believe he has targeted women through online dating in the past, and we are requesting that women in the five-state area suspend their profiles so they are no longer visible until the killer is in custody. In
the meanwhile, be assured that catching this person before he strikes again is our top priority. We also ask that any information regarding the killer be directed to your local police station until we can get the FBI tip lines up and running again.”

  His voice sounded gruff and serious, like always. It twisted my stomach. I pulled into the Relax Inn parking lot and shut off the car. “Are you going to Mass with me and Mom?”

  “Nope. One of the many rewards of being a Lutheran.” She fluffed her hair and stepped out of the Toyota. I followed. It felt at least ten degrees warmer than it had been in Orelock. Still cold, but not inhumane. “I figured I’d go back to the nursing home,” she said. “They can use my help, and if I dodder a little, the nurses think I’m one of the inmates and feed me. It’s a pretty good deal all around.”

  “I can drive you.”

  “No thanks. It’s only twelve blocks, and I need to exercise. I’ve been sitting in this soup can of yours for too long.”

  Something about her demeanor made me nervous, but everything was making me nervous, so I didn’t argue. How much trouble could she stir up in Paynesville? It was daylight, and people were out and about. The gas station across the street was broadcasting Christmas music from speakers above the gas pumps. The sun was out and according to the local bank, the temperature was above zero. It was as safe as it was going to get. Mrs. Berns went one way and I went the other.

  The Relax Inn we’d booked our indefinite stay in was small and locally owned and had been only too happy to take my Visa. I smiled at the teenager behind the counter and started up the stairs to our second-floor room. My mind was on the online dating connection when I stepped onto the landing overlooking the lobby and took a left into the hallway. A tall window at the end of the corridor let in dazzling sunbeams. My eyes needed a moment to adjust, and during that split-second, it appeared as though a man was leaving my hotel room. My heart careened painfully off my ribcage. I blinked, and he began walking toward me. His shape blocked most of the sun, leaving his face in shadows. He was tall, and the outline of his hands appeared as large as clubs.

  I stumbled backward, toward the top of the stairs. Glancing to my right, I saw that the teenager had left her station. I whipped back to face him, my breath coming shallowly. Instinctively, I went into the fighting stance I’d learned in self-defense class.

  The shadowy man passed me on the landing and started down the stairs. I saw him clearly for the first time. His hair was salt and pepper and from behind, he didn’t look nearly as tall as he had backlit against the sun.

  “Excuse me.” My voice was shaking. I gripped the railing. “Sir. Excuse me.”

  He turned, a polite expression on his face. He had a well-trimmed beard and mustache and smile lines around his warm brown eyes. I’d never seen him before in my life. “Yes?”

  “What room are you in?”

  I thought I saw an atom of guilt or panic on his face, but I could have been mistaken because there he was, still smiling politely at me. “I was visiting a friend. Room 24.”

  The room directly across from ours. I shook my head as if clearing out cobwebs. “Sorry. Just, for a second there … never mind. Merry Christmas.”

  He smiled, and I thought I saw a gold filling in the back of his mouth. “You too.”

  Thirty-four

  Because tomorrow was Christmas Eve and Tuesday was Christmas Day, the Church of St. Joseph was offering Mass every four hours today up until midnight, just like a holy Rocky Horror Picture Show. This, on top of all the Christmas services they had planned. Mom was beaming as brightly as a lighthouse to have me at her side during a church service for the first time since high school. I started out listening to the sermon with a bad attitude but warmed up when I realized it was one of the rare ones I loved, light on the Jesus guilt, with an extra helping of do unto others. I was glad I’d packed dress clothes, or at least dress pants and a nice sweater, so that mom didn’t look like she’d done a bad job with me. I was so inspired by the priest’s message of hope and love that I didn’t mind staying after to be introduced to him like I was some sort of prize cow. Plus, cookies were to follow.

  I was in the basement, three napkin-wrapped gingerbread men in my pocket (I fully intended to share them with Mrs. Berns) and one frosted Christmas tree in my hand when Patsy walked over to say hi.

  “Did you hear about the killing in Orelock?” she asked.

  I wiped crumbs off the front of my sweater and nodded. “Are you and the kids feeling safe?”

  “We are now. I moved us into my mom and dad’s for now. The kids are on cloud nine, getting to hang out with Gram and Gramps for the whole week of Christmas break. It’s weird sleeping in my old twin bed, though, you know?”

  I did. “That’s where I was until Mom and I moved to the Relax Inn.”

  She stared at me, concerned. Her hair was down and curled, and she was wearing a pretty wool dress. The hair and outfit made her look very much like a mom. “Isn’t that kind of crowded? Didn’t you say you brought your animals?”

  “Yup. I walked Luna right before we came here. It’s cramped, but roomier than a coffin.” I attempted a weak laugh, but the joke sounded painfully lame even to my ears. Patsy politely ignored it.

  “You should come out to Jules’ tomorrow night. She’s having a Yule party.”

  I choked on my cookie. “Jules Dahlberg? Ms. Snootypants?”

  She cocked her head, a question in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “She was always so stuck up in high school.” I crumbled a little in the face of Patsy’s bottomless kindness. It did feel immature to cling so tightly onto old memories that I could call up such negative emotion at merely the mention of a name. “Or at least that’s how I remember her. I’m sure she’s way different now.”

  Patsy smiled brightly. “You two would get along great. She’d love to have you, I’m sure of it. She was saying how she wished she’d gotten a chance to talk with you at Natalie’s funeral.”

  The invitation was kind, and I recognized the need to bury high school grudges, but I felt improbably committed to my vision of myself as the outcast. “I don’t know. I don’t want to leave my mom alone.”

  “No problem. She’s volunteering at the nativity scene here tomorrow evening, ten o’clock through midnight. She takes over for me. We both play Wise Men.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Would it be okay if I brought a friend?”

  “Of course!” Patsy spontaneously hugged me. “It’s really nice to have you back, Mira. I mean that.”

  Mom had also signed up to help at the church for the rest of the afternoon and possibly into the evening. I didn’t remember her being so devoted when I lived at home. The church must have filled in the holes that dad and I had left. She said I could either stay and help her to stuff envelopes, or I could pick up some last-minute grocery items for the feast she was making as soon as she could return to the farmhouse. I didn’t want to burst her bubble and tell her that we might be at the hotel for a very long time. Instead, I volunteered to grocery shop.

  After I’d bagged the pumpkin pie filling, allspice, and cream of tartar, I felt restless. I returned to the hotel to exercise Luna. Both she and Tiger Pop were thrilled to see me. I brushed them both down before heading with Luna to a nearby park to throw the tennis ball. Her shaggy Shepherd-mix coat kept her warm, and it was glorious to watch her strong, wolf-like body leap into the air. After forty-five minutes of fetch, she sprawled at my feet, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth.

  I brought her back to the hotel but didn’t feel like watching TV. Instead, I drove to River Grove. I had no specific destination in mind and instead cruised the streets, staring at decorations and lunar snow drifts, wondering how a killer chose his victim. The crime scene tape had been removed from the front of Natalie’s home, but the building looked cold and dark inside. I cruised past the candy cane-covered house, slowing down as I passed. It hadn’t changed. It was still
loaded with the decorations and still made my stomach turn.

  After I’d criss-crossed all of River Grove, I took off for White Plains. The drive was over an hour. I didn’t have a specific destination in mind here, either, though I thought to look for Sharpie’s caramels when I filled up on gas. They weren’t at the first station, or at either of the other two in town. The clerks at all three didn’t remember anyone fitting Sharpie’s description.

  When I made it back to the Relax Inn, it was dark, and I was exhausted. A soggy snow had begun to fall. I took Luna for a short walk, the wind icing my eyelashes the whole way. She kept wagging her tail and looking at me as we strolled. I was sure she wanted to know if we were leaving the hotel for good. The room was cramped for a human but doubly small for two animals who couldn’t leave on their own.

  “Soon,” I told her. She wagged harder.

  When we returned, my mom was in the room, getting ready for bed. She told me Mrs. Berns had called, and that she’d be spending the night at the nursing home. I had an inkling that slumber parties weren’t allowed, but I was equally confident that Mrs. Berns would find a workaround. Mom chattered happily about all the people she’d worked with that day, what their holiday plans were, how grand the nativity scene was going to be. Her voice was soothing. We both avoided discussing the killer, or harder truths such as when we’d be able to check out of the hotel.

  Thirty-five

  Sunday, December 23, Evening