Dear Santa

by Alice Orr

  Coyote wasn’t here. Vic searched on all the same, scanning the floor and the crevices between the remaining pieces of cardboard for any evidence that Coyote had in fact been here at all. Vic found what he was looking for in a corner of the tumbled structure, not far from the roof wall. The envelope was crumpled and much the worse for wear, and the paper inside was too. Still, Vic knew right off that it was Coyote’s letter to Katherine and the Most Needy Cases Fund. Coyote had been here, all right. Now he was gone, God only knew where. As Vic made his way cautiously back across the rooftop in the wild winter night, he was saying yet another small prayer and speaking it aloud this time.

  KATHERINE WOKE UP, as always, at quarter to six. She could feel in every muscle of her body how much she needed to rest longer. She’d never been able to lie around in bed in the morning, except once in a while on Saturday. She was fairly sure this wasn’t Saturday, so she threw off the covers and sat up. She hadn’t fully opened her eyes till her fingers touched the satin hem of the blanket. Her duvet cover was made of cotton, not satin. She stared down at the fabric in her hand by the light of the small lamp on the bedside table. Instead of blue flowers on an off-white background, the blanket she held was a deep-burgundy-colored wool. She gripped the satin trim for an instant then let it go. Where was she?

  In an uncomfortable moment of confusion she looked around at a room she’d never seen before—a tall cherrywood dresser, the wall behind it papered in wide vertical stripes of yellow with white bands edged in burgundy-red between the yellow panels. A pleasant room—a man’s room! A flat brush on top of the dresser. A pair of black boots under the stool next to the dresser. The boots brought it all back to her. Vic. Vic Maltese. She was in his house. She’d run here last night, after…

  Memory of the ruined painting of Daniel stabbed Katherine’s heart with a slash as sharp as the one that had slit the canvas. It felt like having that sweet little boy cut out of her life all over again. How could they do that? she asked herself, just as she had last night. No answer came this morning either, only the thought of yet another child. Sprite Bellaway. Sprite had been with her last night. Sprite was the reason Katherine ran here for safety and protection. Otherwise, she would have stood her ground, dared the intruder to come at her one more time, the way she would have liked to dare Daniel’s disease to try taking her on instead of a frail boy. But she had to get little Sprite out of there, so they ran.

  Katherine recalled the screams that had woken her the night before. She had spent a long time with Sprite in an attempt to settle her down. Finally, the child had fallen asleep again. Exhausted, Katherine had stumbled back to Vic’s bedroom and the warmth of his double bed. Vaguely, she recalled an image of Vic in that bed with her, but she shoved the thought away. It must have been a dream.

  Katherine stood up. She had on the same sweater and long skirt she’d worn all day yesterday. The skirt was a mass of creases. She’d have to go home and change. Sprite would need a change of clothes, too. It was a school day. Katherine had reoriented herself enough to the waking world to be certain of that. She headed for the bedroom door. She and Sprite had never made it to the apartment on Ten Broeck Street the evening before as Katherine had planned. She’d have to take the little girl to Tooley Pennebaker’s for some clean clothes. An image of the chaos of Tooley’s ransacked living room flashed across Katherine’s mind. She hoped she’d be able to find what was needed in that mess. She’d have to speak to Tooley about finding another place for Sprite to stay. Obviously, after the destruction of Daniel’s photo and the note that had been left beside it, Katherine’s apartment was no longer safe for the little girl.

  She located Sprite just down the hall in the room past the bathroom. A low-wattage lamp had been left on there as well, and Sprite was sleeping peacefully under a patchwork quilt with a teddy bear clasped in her arms. Katherine was sure they hadn’t brought the bear here with them. She eased the toy from Sprite’s grip. The small, brown animal had definitely seen years of wear. One black button eye was missing, and the belly stuffing had been pressed flat by what Katherine guessed to be lots of hugging. Suddenly, she knew this was Vic’s bear. The thought of tall, tough, leather-clad Vic as a child young and vulnerable enough to cuddle a bear washed over her in a wave so tender she had to hug the stuffed animal to herself for a moment before resting it gently on the pillow next to Sprite’s tousled head.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” Katherine said softly. “Time to get up.”

  She found their coats and boots in the hallway closet downstairs. Their scarves, hats and mittens had been draped to dry along the banister. Vic must have done that. She’d done almost nothing last night after arriving here except fall asleep. She retrieved their outdoor things from the bathroom and put a hand on Sprite’s shoulder to move her into the quiet hallway. Vic must be sleeping in some other room Katherine hadn’t yet come upon. Something made her want to get out of here without waking him up, some uneasiness she couldn’t quite explain—until she saw him.

  They had paused in the hallway to don their coats, and there he was. He’d fallen asleep half sitting, half lying on the couch next to his Christmas tree, which was still lit up with steadily glowing colored bulbs and slow, white flashers that flickered off and on across his face. Katherine remembered that same face very close to hers. The image brought with it a flash of feeling so startling she almost dropped Sprite’s hand. Had it not been a dream, as she’d told herself? Had the kiss really happened? Katherine couldn’t lie to herself. The memory of Vic’s arms around her and how much she’d loved having them there was too intense to be a fantasy. And, with a tiny pang of guilt, she acknowledged that she had initiated the kiss.

  Had anything more than that happened between them last night? She couldn’t remember, and she was suddenly confused again, just as she’d been when she woke up this morning. This time the feeling frightened her. She recalled Sprite’s scream, their mad dash to the bedroom, and what it had interrupted. If the sensation of Vic’s kiss came back to her this powerfully, then surely anything beyond that would be even more indelibly imprinted on her senses. Still, she couldn’t be absolutely positive. Her clothes had all been on when she woke up, but they were in total disarray. Had Vic used the kiss as an invitation to take things further? He didn’t strike her as the type of man who would take advantage of a half-conscious woman. On the other hand, what did she actually know about what type of man he was? Katherine was tempted to dash into his living room, shake him awake and conduct a thorough interrogation on that subject right here and now.

  “Are we going to get breakfast?”

  Katherine had almost forgotten the child at her side till she heard Sprite’s voice, still misty with sleep. She knelt next to Sprite and began buttoning her coat

  “Yes, Sprite, we’re going to get breakfast.”

  The mention of food made Katherine remember dropping the plastic grocery bag on the floor of her living room when she first spotted Daniel’s ravaged portrait. She could imagine the mess of melted ice cream there still. There was so much mess around her to clean up now, and melted iced cream was the least of it.

  As she adjusted Sprite’s scarf more closely around her face, Katherine sighed. She’d figure out something. She always had, except for Daniel. She hadn’t been able to figure out a way to make things right for Daniel. She was determined to do better by this child next to her now. Katherine hugged Sprite as tenderly as she’d hugged the teddy bear upstairs. That brought Vic back to mind, and Katherine’s questions about what might have happened last night. Just because a guy had a teddy bear in his house, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a brute when the opportunity arose. She had no doubt how much she must have looked like an opportunity last night. Had he given her anything to drink? Could she have been drugged as well as sleepy? That kind of thing happened these days.

  Katherine helped Sprite with her mittens, knowing she wasn’t helping herself by letting her imagination run away with her. She couldn’t help it. She was ou
t of her depth here, far away from the safe, familiar, passionless territory she’d inhabited with Daniel’s father. She wasn’t accustomed to running off to men’s houses in the middle of the night, much less to sleeping there. In fact, running off was what she needed to do right now. She gripped Sprite’s hand and was about to make a beeline for the door. She glanced one last time at Vic on the couch to be sure he was still asleep and she would actually be making a clean escape.

  That was when she noticed the crumpled sheet of paper on the floor. It lay near the curled fingers of Vic’s hand where his arm hung off the couch onto the richly patterned carpet. A moment ago, her eyes hadn’t yet adjusted themselves to the dim light from the hall sconces and the flickering bulbs on the tree. She hadn’t seen the paper then, or felt the probably nonsensical urge to know what it was. Nothing made sense about this morning, anyway.

  “Wait here a minute, Sprite,” Katherine whispered. She really didn’t want to wake Vic up now. “I’ll be right back.”

  She tiptoed carefully across the carpet to just within reach of the piece of paper. She bent down slowly, without a sound, and picked it up, all the time expecting Vic’s eyes to pop open and catch her sneaking around his living room. Fortunately, he kept right on sleeping, his breathing soft and even and unnervingly near as Katherine squinted to examine the paper in her hand. The signature at the bottom of the page had been printed out larger and more boldly than the rest. Coyote Bellaway.

  Katherine took Coyote’s letter with her as she tiptoed out of Vic Maltese’s house with Sprite at her side.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Dressing down and it isn’t even Friday?”

  Megan looked Katherine over with a wide smile.

  “Right,” Katherine said.

  Down was certainly the word to describe this morning for Katherine. She didn’t know whether she was angry or depressed. She did know she was nearly miserable. She couldn’t keep Vic Maltese and their kiss—and whatever else they might or might not have shared—from her thoughts.

  “I’d like to think this new look means you’re lightening up on that serious side of yours.”

  Megan was talking about the jeans and dark green chenille turtleneck sweater Katherine had on with her ruggedsoled hiking boots.

  “I was in a hurry this morning. This was the fastest thing I could find to put on.”

  Katherine was speaking the truth about the hurrying. Rushing Sprite to Tooley’s for fresh clothes, making alternate arrangements for Sprite for that evening, then racing to the school in time for the first bell had been a challenge and a half. Still, that wasn’t the whole reason Katherine didn’t bother putting together her usual professional look for work today. She simply hadn’t cared enough to make the effort.

  “Did you oversleep?”

  Katherine saw that Megan was watching her carefully.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’m only prying.”

  Megan sat down in the chair opposite Katherine’s desk.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m only clamming up.”

  Katherine was surprised at herself for managing even that much wit. She definitely didn’t feel either amused or amusing right now.

  “Listen, Katherine.” Megan leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desktop. The customary twinkle in her brown eyes had turned almost solemn. “I know you’ve been through a lot this past year, and the holidays don’t make that any easier. Maybe you ought to try to talk about what you’re feeling.”

  “Are you trying to say I need a therapist?”

  Megan’s face showed no reaction to the sharpness of that question.

  “I’m trying to say you might need a friend,” she said.

  Katherine sighed. “I’m sorry. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and I seem to be taking it out on you.”

  “Maybe you might try getting up on the right, or even the wrong side, of a different bed for a change.”

  Katherine nearly smiled. Megan teased her about her solitary life-style sometimes. It was a continuing theme of their friendly banter.

  “How do you know I didn’t?” was not Katherine’s usual answer.

  Megan drew back into her chair again and stared at her.

  “Maybe I should keep on prying, after all.”

  Katherine shrugged. “It’s not that interesting really.” She hoped that was true.

  “Let me be the judge.”

  Katherine wanted to talk to somebody. She just wasn’t sure what she would say.

  “Maybe later,” she said. “Right now I’d like you to take a look at this.”

  She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out Coyote Bellaway’s rumpled, smeared letter to the Most Needy Cases Fund. She handed it across the desk to Megan.

  “This was written by the boy we found sleeping in the that room yesterday. Now he’s missing,” Katherine said.

  Megan looked the battered letter over, front and back.

  “I hope he hasn’t been going through whatever happened to this piece of paper,” she said.

  “I think he could be in some serious trouble. This letter is the only clue we have to his possible whereabouts.”

  “Where did you get this, anyway? Weren’t you looking for it yesterday after Coyote took off?”

  Katherine hesitated. She didn’t actually know the details of how the letter had resurfaced. She’d have to talk to Vic to find that out, and she wasn’t ready to do that just yet.

  “I got it from Vic Maltese” was all she said.

  “When did he give it to you?”

  “This morning.”

  If Megan had taken that in as ammunition for her natural tendency toward matchmaking, she didn’t let it show. She was dealing with the case of a little boy in trouble now. Megan always turned very focused, all teasing and jokes set aside, when a serious situation like this one came up.

  The door behind Megan opened and Vic stepped through it. The sight of him took her so much by surprise that her knees felt weak, and she was grateful that she was sitting in her office chair. That kept her from making a fool of herself, and the wide desk before her helped her to maintain a professional attitude.

  “I was just showing this to Megan,” she said, gesturing to Coyote’s letter. “I’m hoping there’s a clue in there somewhere.” She turned to Megan. “Do you see anything?”

  “Well, he’s obviously a bright boy. He’s pretty articulate for—how old does he say he is?” She scanned the page, then looked from Vic to Katherine, who could see her friend’s sharp, brown eyes taking in everything. Megan wouldn’t be likely to miss the atmosphere of tension that had invaded the tiny office all of a sudden.

  “Eleven,” Vic said.

  Katherine kept her gaze on Megan to avoid looking into his eyes. “He claims to be eleven, but I’m not sure we can trust the details of what he says.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “He’s straining to be the perfect candidate for fund money in there. I can almost feel him trying as hard as he can to say just the right thing.”

  “Don’t all the applicants do that?” Vic asked.

  She was forced to drag her gaze to his. “Not quite as smoothly as Coyote does it.”

  “Hmm,” Megan said. “Now that I read this through again, I see what you mean. So, we’re dealing with a boy with what we call in my profession, well-developed manipulative skills.”

  “Exactly.”

  That meant he’d be harder to second-guess and harder to find before he got into deeper trouble, or before someone made that trouble for him. She thought about Lacey Harbison and what she was more certain than ever could have been a thinly veiled maneuver to get at the Bellaway children. She was also thinking about whoever had been in her apartment last night and the sinister tone of the note they left there. She shuddered.

  “We have to figure out where Coyote might be,” she said, feeling even more strongly how critical that was. “He’s out in the street on his
own, and there was a blizzard last night.”

  “I don’t know where he was last night, but I found where he’d been holing up,” Vic said. He described Coyote’s rooftop hideaway.

  Megan tapped the letter in her hand. “This tells us he has good survival instincts. He’s smart enough to know he has to plan a strategy in order to get what he needs. That’s a positive. I think we may be safe in assuming that this boy didn’t sleep in a drift somewhere,” Megan said. “My guess is that he worked out something more practical than that.”

  “But we have no way of knowing what he worked out or where he is.” Katherine didn’t even try to hide her frustration.

  “He may be smooth and good at saying the right thing, but he’s still a kid,” Megan said. “He may have left some tracks here to follow, after all. We just have to get close enough to find them.”

  Katherine sighed again. That sounded like wishful thinking.

  “Look at this,” Megan said, her red curls bouncing as she sprang forward in her chair again, more enthusiastically this time, and stabbed her finger at the paper. “It could be a clue.”

  “What is it?” Vic asked.

  “‘Me and my little sister, Sprite, are real close,’” Megan read. “’I do my best to take good care of her. I keep an eye on her all the time.’”

  “What clue do you get from that?”

  Vic sounded skeptical, and Katherine had to admit she felt the same.

  “He probably wrote that partly to show what a great kid he is so we’d think he deserved the grant money. But,” Megan added, “I think he could be telling us the truth about himself, too.”

  “What truth is that?”