The Slay of the Santas

by Kacey Gene

  The man wiggles and thrashes like a frightened worm, but Jake’s weight and strength easily overpower the guy.

  “Hold still,” Jake says. “I don’t want to cuff you, but I will if you don’t stop fighting.”

  Jake doesn’t have his cuffs on him, but the man must hear the confidence in Jake’s voice because he quits struggling.

  “Let’s take him in the house,” Jake says, keeping the guy’s arms pinned behind him while he wrestles him to his feet. Jake looks at Jennifer to let her know he’s good-to-go, and she leads the way. She keeps turning back to check on Jake and get a glance of the man’s face, but his hoodie and the morning’s darkness still hide his identity.

  That is, until Jake gets the man inside, sits him down in a chair, and pulls back the hoodie. Jennifer flips on the lights at the exact same time, and that’s when the man’s face is revealed. But it’s not a man that sits before them.

  “You,” Jake says, completely surprised to see the boy from the photo. “You’re the kid I chased at Fred’s house.”

  That’s when Jennifer looks at the sweats the boy -- who looks to be no more than eighteen years old -- is wearing. They’re the same dark grey sweats he had on at Fred’s house two days ago, and now that his hoodie is down, Jennifer can see that he’s also wearing the same black stocking cap.

  His scraggly blonde hair that peeks out from his stocking cap looks riddled with dirt and grime. There’s a film on his face that makes his skin shine like a greased pan. And his fingernails, which Jennifer sees when the boy crosses his arms and refuses to make eye contact with Jake, are jagged -- some of them broken down to the skin and some long and misshapen from neglect.

  “Hey,” Jake says, trying to meet the kid’s eyes. “What were you doing outside my window?”

  Even though the kid looks stubborn and tough with his straight, upturned nose and his crossed arms, Jennifer can see right through this act. What she sees sitting before her is a scared boy. And then she remembers the picture of him with Fred -- the one she found hidden beneath the stones of Fred’s entryway. In that picture the boy was smiling. He was clean. He was hopeful.

  Jennifer senses and fears that those photographic days and feelings are a memory long forgotten for this boy.

  “Tell me your name,” Jake says, leaning into the boy, but he remains silent.

  Jennifer knows that he’s going to remain silent if he feels threatened. That’s why she steps in and says, “Would you like to take a shower and have some breakfast?” When Jennifer asks this, she’s not sure who’s more shocked -- Jake or the kid.

  The boy looks up at her, and something in Jennifer’s heart shifts into a crack. His blue eyes meet hers, and she can see that he’s evaluating the truth and intentions behind her words, and when the boy senses that she’s truly and earnestly offering him a warm shower and food, his tired, hungry and desperate voice says, “That would be nice.”

  “Come on, then,” Jennifer says. She wants to reach out and put her hand on his shoulder, but she knows she can’t push this too quickly. “Jake will get you some clean clothes,” Jennifer says, nodding at Jake, who is still sitting in the chair baffled. “Right, Jake?”

  “Uh,” Jake throws up his hands. “Sure.”

  “I’m Jennifer, by the way,” she says, holding out her hand to the boy.

  He takes it and says, “People call me Junior.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tight Lip Service

  If there’s one thing Junior can definitely do, it’s eat. He’s already had two helpings of eggs, six pieces of bacon, and he’s currently devouring his third pancake that Jake just plopped on his plate. Yet, he’s only using his mouth for eating, not talking.

  Jennifer continues to eye Junior from the kitchen, trying to figure out how to break through this wall around him. She and Jake talked about tactics as Junior showered and the two of them got ready for the day, but neither one of them was prepared for his impenetrable armor of silence.

  “So what’s next on your plan?” Jake asks, joining Jennifer in the kitchen. “We going to buy him a car to try and get him to talk?”

  Jennifer softly backhands Jake, but she also knows he’s right. Junior has gotten a hot shower to rinse off his dirt; he’s now wearing clean, crisp exercise pants, a Michigan t-shirt, and a thick pair of socks; and there’s no way his stomach isn’t reaching its maximum capacity with all the food he’s consumed. It’s time for him to give them something that they want -- like an explanation for why he was burning the books at Fred’s house or why he was lurking around outside Jake’s windows.

  Jennifer walks right over to the table and sits in the seat next to Junior.

  “So, you know Fred Gailey.”

  “Knew. I knew him,” Junior says, but his words aren’t soft or full of sadness like they should be for someone who just passed away. They’re angry. Tight. Bitter.

  “How did you know him?”

  Junior looks out the window, not acknowledging her question or her eye contact. This act of avoidance isn’t foreign to her; it’s a common occurrence within the walls of second grade. That’s why she takes the same tactic that she does with her students -- get them so emotional that they have to talk.

  “I’m guessing that you broke into Fred’s place. Were you there to steal things? Did you hear that he died and figured you would take what you could?” Jennifer asks.

  Junior looks her dead in the eye, and she sees his jaw clench. “I would never do that. I owe Fred everything. I was there because he wanted me there.”

  “What do you mean?” Jennifer asks, hoping that Junior will continue.

  “You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “Fred knew someone was after him. I know it,” Junior says, shaking his head. “I got a letter from him just last week, and...I should have known something was wrong.” Junior’s eyes turn back to the window, and Jennifer can feel the blame that he’s putting on himself.

  “What did the letter say?” Jake asks, sitting on the other side of Junior. Junior doesn’t acknowledge Jake’s presence. “Look, we want to find who did this to Fred--”

  “You need to stop looking,” Junior says, and that’s when he turns his serious gaze straight on Jake.

  “We’re not going to do that,” Jake responds.

  “Then people are going to continue to die,” Junior says. He stubbornly crosses his arms, but Jennifer sees his chin quiver. Someone or something has Junior terrified.

  “Hey,” Jennifer says, reaching out. Junior doesn’t flinch or pull away when she puts her hand on his arm. “We’re trying to stop people from getting hurt. We want to save lives, not endanger them.”

  “Then you’ll stop investigating.”

  But Jennifer notices something. Junior’s straight-forward words paired with his shaky voice don’t match up. It’s like someone else’s words are moving across his lips. When he finally puts his eyes in line with Jennifer’s, that’s when she sees it. Junior thinks he is going to be the next victim. And then his blue eyes fill up with tears, which quickly roll down his cheeks.

  “Who has you scared?” Jennifer asks.

  “No one scares me,” Junior says, pretending that every bone in his body is full of toughness, but everyone at that table knows better.

  “Then who did this to Fred?”

  Junior wipes away his tears. “I don’t know. And then they got Earl, and--” Junior cuts himself off. Jennifer looks over at Jake, and his eyes grow as big a saucers.

  “You know Earl?” Jake asks.

  “He and Fred trained us.”

  “Trained you? Trained you in what?” Jennifer asks.

  Junior takes the ends of his sweatshirt and presses the fabric against his eyes. Wiping away any excess tears, he looks at Jennifer and says, “It’s easier if I just show you. Can you drive me somewhere?”

  “Where?” Jake asks skeptically. He eyes Jennifer as if to warn her, Don’t you dare say yes until we know the
details.

  “It’s a place we call ‘Ebenezer’s Home,’” Junior says.

  As soon as those words hit the air, there’s no turning back.

  “I’ll get the keys,” Jake says, not even needing to look at Jennifer to know that they’re going.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Walk Down a Broken Path

  Jennifer nervously checks the GPS again. She eyes the abandoned warehouses that line the street they’re on and the industrial buildings that have white smoke billowing out of their chimneys. They’re almost at their destination, which isn’t exactly the news Jennifer wants to hear.

  They’ve been driving for almost forty minutes, and even though she wants to know what’s at this “Ebenezer’s Home,” she does not like the look of this neighborhood -- with its broken sidewalks, grey air, and metal fences topped with barbed wire that line the properties.

  Jake’s car crunches over cinders and piles of soft slush. The snow here looks nothing like the snow in Middlebridge, which is puffy, white, and has a clean crunch to it. The snow in this place is like soupy ice cream with bits of grime and debris all mixed into it.

  “So Fred and Earl ran The Society of Santas,” Jake says, trying to get more out of Junior, who keeps backseat driving and contradicting the directions of the GPS.

  “We call it the SOS,” Junior says. “Take a right here, it’s a shortcut.”

  “We’re going to follow the GPS,” Jennifer says, knowing that a shortcut is the last thing she and Jake want. They want time for more talking and more information.

  “And you met Fred and Earl through the SOS,” Jennifer says, summarizing the only piece of information Junior has really given them. So far, all they know is that Fred and Earl would go into boy’s homes -- the kinds of boy’s homes where boys without a home live -- but they don’t know why or what it has to do with this “Society of Santas.”

  “Yeah, they came to The Academy,” Junior says, leaning back in his seat when he sees that they’re not going to take his shortcut suggestion.

  Jennifer has heard about The Academy, but she’s never known anyone who actually lived or worked there. It’s the only orphanage, which everyone calls a “boy’s home,” in Wisconsin, and from what Jennifer knows, it’s not state or federally funded, unlike most other schools in Wisconsin. It’s fully run off private funds, and has been since the late 1800s, which means everything is kept behind closed doors.

  “But the place we all call Ebenezer’s Home is actually the headquarters for the SOS, but it’s changed its focus...or purpose, I guess you could say, this last year.”

  “In what way?” Jennifer turns her head to look at Junior in the back seat.

  “You know, Fred is the one who gave me my name,” Junior says, changing the subject. He keeps doing this, which is beyond frustrating, but Jennifer can hear in his voice that this is a story he actually wants to tell, so she doesn’t fight him.

  “It’s true,” Junior says, meeting Jennifer’s curious green eyes. “Cause, you see, when the SOS first started, Fred was helping us become Santas. You know, like at the mall and stuff.”

  “That’s what the SOS was for?” Jake asks, looking at Junior from the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah. Fred and Earl would go and help boys who didn’t have a family learn how to be Santas.” Junior looks out the window and then says, “Fred always said, ‘Some people are born with a family and others go out and make their families.’” Junior pauses, and Jennifer’s heart squeezes as she sees how much Fred meant to Junior.

  “I bet you were a great Santa,” Jennifer says, already seeing these pieces line up. Maybe Junior was a chip-off-the-old-block. Maybe Fred saw a lot of himself in Junior. Maybe that’s why Fred gave him the name “Junior,” and that made this kid feel part of something.

  “You bet wrong,” Junior says, laughing to himself. “I was the worst Santa. All those kids asking for toys they didn’t need or wanting this dumb stuff when they already had everything that mattered in life irritated me,” Junior says, shaking his head. “That’s why Fred helped me do something different. Why we changed the SOS and it became Ebenzer’s Home.”

  “You have arrived at your destination,” the woman’s voice calls out from Jennifer’s phone, halting their conversation. Jake parks on the open street. There’s absolutely no one around, and the only sound is their car engine, which Jake turns off.

  Jennifer looks up at the deep red building that’s to the right of them. It’s three stories tall, perfectly symmetrical with matching windows on each side, and it has a large green door in the middle. The door handles are wrapped in chains that come together with a thick lock.

  Having the photos from Fred’s house tucked in the inside cover of A Christmas Carol, she pulls them out and holds up the one of Fred and Junior. The backdrop in the photo is the same as the one she’s viewing in person.

  So the building in the photos is the SOS/Ebenezer’s Home, Jennifer thinks. Although, she still doesn’t know the difference between the two. She’s about to ask Junior about this, but he already has the car door open.

  “We have to go in through the back,” he says, jumping out onto the sidewalk and walking toward a chain link fence.

  When Jake and Jennifer head in his direction, they don’t see a path to the back of the building. There’s a long trail of busted concrete that’s jaggedly thrown on top and next to each other. A few of the pieces have rusted spikes sticking up out of them. And, the “door” of the chain link fence has a thick chain around it, held together with a u-lock.

  But when Junior gets to the “door” of the fence, he pulls the bottom part, and the metal fence bends open like it’s made of rubber.

  Jennifer looks over at Jake, who says, “This is looking more and more like a horrible idea,” but he still moves toward Junior and ducks under the metal “door” that Junior is holding open for them.

  The concrete wobbles and moves under their feet, and Jake holds onto Jennifer to keep her from slipping on the thin layer of snow that dusts the top of the concrete. With the dark clouds in the sky and the way the wind is starting to blow, Jake knows this snow dusting will turn to ice in under an hour. Junior, obviously knowing this treacherous path well, passes right by them and leads them down the side of the building.

  The windows of the building are frosted glass. The lower row of windows have bars covering them, and Jennnifer can see that at least half of the top floor windows are broken. While the building is strong and resting on a solid foundation of brick and concrete, the rest of the place is completely neglected, including the dead grasses that are overgrown and brown.

  “The door is right around here,” Junior says, and as soon as they turn the corner, Jennifer almost gags. The stench of dog feces is everywhere. She covers her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her coat, and she sees that Jake is also sickened by the stench. Junior, however, doesn’t seem phased in the least.

  The entire back of the building is basically an open field that’s gated in with a chain link fence; although, there’s a section missing. And then Jennifer sees a dark van and a police squad car parked on the street behind the building. Not sure if these automobiles are abandoned like so much of this block, Jennifer squints to get a better view. But her concentration breaks when a large piece of wood smacks against some loose concrete.

  “Sorry,” Junior says, bending down. “It’s not the best system to hide a key.” He grabs a key from under the fallen piece of wood and starts fiddling with the lock. “This key is always tricky,” he says, jiggling it back and forth.

  Jennifer notices that a window at the far corner of the building is wide open. When she looks back to the squad car, it’s like everything tunnels into clear view. If they open that door, they will not be alone.

  “Wait,” Jennifer tells Junior, but it’s too late.

  Junior throws open the door.

  “Freeze,” a voice says, but Jennifer can’t focus on the voice. All she can focus on is the pair of guns that are p
ointed directly at her face.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Little Pink Tongues

  “Put your guns down,” Jake says, stepping between the weapons and Jennifer.

  “Lieutenant Hollow,” one of the officers says in shock. “We didn’t know you were coming. We heard a crash and some rustling, so we thought it might be the killer.” The officer rambles off every excuse he can as he embarrassingly looks at Jake.

  “Just lower your weapon,” Jake says, now putting his hand on the young officer’s gun. Jennifer would call this an “honest mistake,” seeing that Jake isn’t in his uniform. It’s on its third wash and dry at Jake’s house, so he has on dark jeans, his black boots, and a deep grey sweater under his black wool coat. But Jennifer’s not convinced pulling a gun on anyone could ever fall into the “honest mistake” category.

  “Sorry, Lieutenant Hollow,” Officer Holtz says. Jennifer recognizes Officer Holtz, with her dishwater brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes, but she doesn’t know the other officer, who casts his eyes down in shame.

  Jake, Jennifer, and Junior step inside, almost slipping on the black and white tile floor that’s cracked like peanut brittle. The scent of bleach and moldy towels lingers in the building, and when Jennifer looks to find the culprit of that smell, she notices Junior's face.

  He’s even paler than the stark, white walls behind him, and his eyes are wide with worry.

  “What’s going on here?” Jake inquisitively asks the officers, but Jennifer’s concern is no longer on the officers in front of her. She moves next to Junior and puts her hand on his back.

  “It’s okay,” she says.

  Junior turns toward her, and she can see his panic glisten in his blue eyes. She’s guessing cops make him nervous. She’s also guessing that seeing cops in “Ebenezer’s Home,” which Junior basically claimed as his safe space, is only increasing his nervousness. And then Jennifer thinks about how Junior just lost Fred, possibly the only man who really looked out for him. She can’t help but reach out and comfortingly say, “You’re with us. You’ll be alright.”