"Oh, God, he sees us!" Amanda said. She reached for the door handle.
"No." Grabbing Amanda's hand, Holly dug the nails of her free hand into the car's upholstery. "I don't think so. We're in the shadow of the pines. Just wait."
They sat there, frozen, and Holly swore she could hear both their heartbeats pounding in her ears. He kept coming, kept coming, all the way to the back end of the truck. And then he turned away from them to open the truck's rear door. It slid upward when he yanked on it.
"He's going after Bethany," Amanda whispered. "She's in the back of the truck—just like I was. Only when I was in there, he didn't know it."
"He probably still doesn't know what ever happened to you," Holly said softly.
"We can't let him hurt that little girl."
"I know."
Marty grabbed a handhold, stepped up onto the back of the truck, and was swallowed up by the darker shadows within. Holly grabbed her door handle.
Amanda touched her shoulder. "Wait." Then she pulled the keys from the switch.
Holly sighed with relief that she hadn't opened the door and caused the car's "door ajar" tone to sound in the silence of this deserted place. "Good thinking, Amanda." As an afterthought she reached above their heads, moved the switch on the overhead light to off, so it wouldn't come on when she opened the door and give them away.
"That, too." Amanda clasped Holly's hand once. Then she pushed something into it. The hammer she'd taken from the garage. The implication made Holly's stomach lurch. But she closed her hand around the thing anyway. "Ready?" Amanda asked.
"No, but I don't see that it matters. Let's go."
Holly opened her door, and Amanda opened hers. They stepped out of the car, and pushed the doors closed again so gently they didn't catch, or make a sound.
It wasn't raining as hard. The trees that lined the road on both sides grew so thick and lush that they formed a canopy overhead. Driving this stretch was like driving through a tunnel. Earlier in the fall, it was a stunning ride, with the colors bright and fiery. Now, the canopy was intact only where the evergreens grew. In between, the hard maples, the white-skinned birches, and the gangly poplars were bare. Skeleton hands joined above the road as if shaking to seal some macabre bargain. It was in such a spot Marty had stopped his truck, so a meager amount of light touched it. It wasn't much, but it allowed them to see shape and shadow.
Holly's feet made soft squishing sounds in the mud of the road. She clutched the hammer tighter, tried to walk more softly. The car was behind them now. They were maybe two hundred feet from the back of the truck when they heard the soft crying. The plaintive voice. They were too far away to make out the words, but the child was obviously begging. Pleading.
Holly went stiff, and some kind of heat rose up from somewhere deep inside her. It suffused her chest, then crept up her neck into her face. Her scalp prickled with it, as if it were trying to burst through. She didn't feel the cold kiss of the wet night wind anymore. Her shivering stopped. Her hand closed more tightly around the hammer.
Then Uncle Marty appeared in the open back door of the truck, with the child tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Bethany hung oddly, and in a moment Holly realized her arms and legs must be bound. Marty leaped down, turned to the left, and stalked off into the woods.
"She was still wearing clothes," Amanda whispered, moving closer to Holly as the two of them hurried to the spot where he'd vanished amid the trees.
"The Halloween costume I made for her," Holly murmured.
"Maybe he hasn't..." Amanda didn't finish the sentence. Her eyes said enough, and Holly read them clearly and hoped to God she was right.
They got to the truck, crept to the edge of the woods. Holly could hear the crashing sounds of Uncle Marty stomping through the brush. "He's making so much noise he won't hear us coming. God, where is he taking her?"
"Is Vince coming?" Amanda asked.
"I don't know. The phone died. I don't know how much of the message he got." She jumped the small ditch on the roadside, and reached back to help Amanda across.
"We'd better make sure he can find us if he does come." Amanda reached behind her head, and yanked the snaps that attached the yellow hood to her raincoat. They were noisy as they popped apart, but Holly didn't think Marty could hear. Then Amanda hung the hood from a branch, gave a nod. "At least he'll know which way we went."
"Come on." Holly led the way, and they moved quickly, despite the utter darkness, slick ground, and thick underbrush. Certainly more quickly than a man as physically unfit as Uncle Marty, carrying a child, could go. Every few steps, they would stop and listen to the cracking and snapping of brush to be sure they were moving in the right direction.
It was a long walk.
Finally, they stopped to listen, and didn't hear any more brush cracking. Instead they heard soft crying, only a few yards ahead.
It was killing Holly to take her time now, to move as quietly as possible through the woods. Killing her, because she kept flashing on images of what that bastard was doing to Bethany now that he'd stopped walking. It was two minutes before they reached them. Maybe less. It felt like hours. Every time the little girl's cries got louder, every time her tone changed, Holly was sure he was hurting her.
Finally, the woods ended, and they stepped into a clearing. In the center, in utter darkness, she could make out the silhouettes. Uncle Marty was hunched over the little girl. Bethany lay on her back on the ground, sobbing softly and saying, "I want my mommy. Don't hurt me. My daddy will come, he'll come, you'll see."
Marty was bending over her, reaching down, touching her. "From now on, I'm your daddy. Understand? Say it. Call me daddy. Do it!"
Holly didn't need to see more. "Get your filthy hands off her, you bastard." She ran at him as she shouted, lifting the hammer as she did.
He spun before she got to him, swinging a beefy arm at her. Her hammer connected with his shoulder instead of his head. Then he punched her in the chest so hard her hand lost its grip on the hammer as she buckled and dropped to the wet, cold ground. He looked down at her, hulking over her. "Damn you, Holly, you never could mind your own business, could you?"
Holly scrambled on her hands and knees until she was beside Bethany.
"Holly?" the soft voice squeaked.
"It's me, honey. It's all right, it's going to be all right now." The child pressed herself close to Holly, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. She was blindfolded, her hands still bound, but there was no time to untie her now.
Uncle Marty bent down, picked up the hammer, and leaned over them. "Well, no matter. I can plant you in my little garden, too, I suppose." He lifted the hammer, and Holly folded herself over Bethany to protect her from the coming blow.
The sound of the impact was dull, and it cracked. But Holly never felt it land. Stunned, she looked up. Amanda stood there, the tire iron in her hands. Marty cowered on the ground at her feet.
"You will never hurt another little girl the way you hurt me," she said, her voice deep, haunting. Not high-pitched or hysterical, but level and icy cold.
"No. No!" Marty wailed.
Amanda lifted the tire iron, and brought it down again. And a third time. The impact sounded wet.
Holly struggled to her feet, gripped Amanda's hands as she lifted the tire iron overhead yet again, stopping her. She stared down at Uncle Marty. He lay still on the ground, and his head was no longer shaped like a head.
"He's dead, Amanda. He's gone; it's all right now."
"He's dead?"
"Yes. Put it down."
Shaking, Amanda lowered her arms. But she didn't drop the weapon.
“Holly? Holly, where are you?" On the cold, wet ground three feet from Marty, Bethany was sitting up, unable to see them, her hands still bound behind her back.
"Right here, honey. It's all right now."
As she made her way to the child, hugging Amanda to her side, Holly heard more crashing brush, saw two lights bobbing closer through the forest. V
ince's voice shouted her name. Holly released Amanda, who only stared blankly at Vince and Jerry as they burst into the clearing.
She heard sirens as she bent to untie Bethany's hands. The others couldn't be far behind.
Vince flicked his light around the clearing until it landed on Holly, and then he came running. He wrapped her in his arms, and Bethany with her. "I've never been so scared in my entire life, Red. Jesus, I'm glad you're all right."
"Vince?" That was Jerry's voice now. Holly looked his way, still locked in Vince's arms, and she saw where his attention and his light were focused.
Amanda stood over what was left of Marty. His head didn't look as if it had ever been human. There was blood and other stuff splattered on the front of Amanda's yellow raincoat, and she still clutched the tire iron.
More feet came crashing through the brush.
"Vince?" Holly whispered. "Will they arrest her? She couldn't bear—"
"It's all right, it's all right." He released Holly, took his gun from his holster, tossed it to the ground. Going to Amanda, he gently took the tire iron from her hands. "You listening Jare?"
"I'm listening."
"I pulled my weapon. Marty knocked it out of my hands and came after me with—" He glanced at Holly. "Did he have any other weapon on him?"
"A hammer," she said. "He took it from me."
He studied Holly's face for a second as she knelt there with the child, gently removing her blindfold, and keeping her head from turning toward the ugly scene.
Vince continued. "Marty attacked me with the hammer, and I clubbed him with the tire iron."
"He got up and came at you and you had to club him a couple more times, by the look of it, partner."
“Two decorated officers, two eyewitnesses." Vince tossed the tire iron down. "And my prints on the weapon."
"Open and shut," Jerry said. "I saw the whole thing."
"Why didn't you draw your own gun and fire?"
"Kid was too close." Jerry replied.
People swarmed into the clearing. Holly met Vince's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Get Bethany out of here," Vince said. "I'll be right behind you."
Holly nodded, gathered Bethany up into her arms, keeping her head tucked close to her until she got into the woods, so the little girl wouldn't see what was left of her attacker.
The child was cold to the touch, utterly traumatized as she searched Holly's face and then burst into tears. Holly just held her tight, and closed her eyes. Police officers crowded around her, but she wouldn't let Bethany go. She waited for Vince to come with Amanda, just inside the woods beyond the clearing. Bethany buried her face in the crook of Holly's neck, as Holly turned to look back.
Cops swarmed past her into the clearing. There were uniforms everywhere, and men in suits and raincoats as well. They all had flashlights, and there was a crisscrossing of beams over the clearing that looked like a checkerboard.
The rain had stopped. And almost as if it were preordained, the clouds chose that moment to drift apart, allowing the bright light of the waxing moon to spill down onto the clearing. Holly wasn't sure what she was seeing when her gaze was first drawn to the moonlight-washed ground. It was Jerry who said, "Sweet merciful Christ, do you see what I'm seeing?"
Vince frowned, and looked. He had Amanda anchored to his side. She wasn't looking at anything at all, just staring blankly into space. The clearing was not a natural one. There were mounds in the ground. Neat rows of them. Perfectly spaced, each roughly the same size and shape. And one hole, freshly dug—shallow, and open, and waiting. Bethany tried to lift her head, but Holly held her hand to the back of it. "No, no, baby. You stay still. I'm taking you back to your mom now, okay? You're gonna be just fine." Holly's eyes welled with hot tears as she glanced one last time at the open grave that had been meant for the little girl in her arms. Vaguely, she wondered which of those graves held Ivy's body. Her throat closed off at the thought. "You're gonna be just fine, honey. You're just fine." She spun away and carried the child rapidly through the woods, away from the nightmare.
* * *
VlNCE CAUGHT UP to Holly before she got back to the road, extricated the little girl from her arms. "Let me, hon. It's all right, Bethany," he said. "I've got you. You're safe now."
She hugged his neck, and Holly linked her arms through one of his. "What about Amanda?"
"Jerry and the chief are bringing her out. She seems to want to move slowly. No one wants to push her right now."
He carried the child out of the woods, onto the muddy excuse for a road, and into the flood of flashing lights. Holly kept her body pressed to his side. She had to be close, had to be touching him. Two ambulances were waiting on the narrow dirt road.
"I'm scared," Bethany whimpered. "I'm so scared."
"You don't have to be afraid anymore," Holly told her, her voice gentle, soothing. "It's over now, this nightmare is all over. You're safe now, I promise."
"You came for me," Bethany went on. "I'm so glad you really came for me. Holly."
An attendant came running from the back of an ambulance with a blanket, as the three of them stepped into the flood of light. He wrapped it around Bethany as she shivered.
"This man is going to take you to your mom, okay?" Vince said to the child.
Bethany looked afraid, wide eyes shooting to Holly's then to Vince's, as if asking them to come with her. But then Vince saw yet another vehicle pull in—Ernie Graycloud's car. The doors opened. The doctor got out of one side and a man he'd never seen before helped a woman get out of the other. He recognized the woman, guessed the man to be her husband.
"Looks like your mom decided to come to you instead, Bethany," Vince told the child. He nodded toward the woman, and Bethany looked.
"Mommy! Daddy!" She twisted out of Vince's arms and ran, letting the blanket fall away behind her. Val Stevens was running, too, arms open, and then she was on her knees, heedless of the mud, hugging her little girl, sobbing, speaking too quickly to be understood. Her husband came, too, wrapping his arms around them both, drawing his wife gently to her feet.
Graycloud met Vince's eyes, gave him a nod. Vince put an arm around Holly's shoulders, grateful to have one arm free to hug her with, as they met the old man halfway.
"Get them straight back to the hospital," Vince said. "This is no place for that kid. We'll be along."
"Holly?" the doctor asked, a brow crooked.
"I'm okay. Amanda, too. Physically, at least."
"She's going to be fine," Vince assured the doctor. "They both are."
Graycloud nodded, turning toward the reunited family, urging them back toward his car. But Val Stevens stopped with her daughter wrapped tight around her, and then she turned back toward Holly with her tears still flowing full force. "I can't find the words ... there aren't any words, Holly."
Holly shook her head. "Don't. Please. Just...just go. Take her out of here." Holly averted her eyes, lowered her head.
The woman turned and carried her daughter into the doctor's waiting car.
"You're not okay at all, are you?" Vince asked her as the car backed up, turned around and moved away.
"No. I'm not."
"Tell me," he urged. He lifted her chin, tried to search her eyes, but the flashing lights made them impossible to read. “Tell me what you're feeling."
She seemed to search his face. "Why?"
"Because I care, Red. More than I wanted to, more than I thought I could. I want to make it good for you again."
Her tears welled, making her eyes shimmer beneath them. "I wish you could."
"Tell me what you're feeling," he urged.
She pressed her lips tightly together, as if willing the words to remain inside. But then they spilled out all the same. "Why couldn't I save my own sister, Vince? Why couldn't I be the hero, the protector, until now? Why did it have to take me so long?" She paused, sucked in a gulp of air, and everything in him was screaming at him to tell her what he suspected about Amanda D'
Voe, but he couldn't just yet, not until he was certain.
"Did you see all those mounds out there? My God, why did so many kids have to die, Vince? Why did my sister have to die? Why?"
"Not because of you," he said. "Not because of you, Holly. You understand me?"
"She's out there. She's out there in one of those muddy graves. Ivy." She fell against him, and he held her tight, stroked her back, her hair. But, hell, he couldn't say much to ease the gut wrenching feelings inside her, because he felt them, too. All those graves in the woods.
"Over here, Vince," Jerry called. He was just helping the chief get Amanda over the ditch onto the road. Her yellow raincoat was splattered with gray and red.
Holly lifted her head, turned to look as they stepped onto the muddy road. "Take that thing off her," she said, straightening her spine, unconsciously squaring her shoulders. She was now drawing on that core of steel she didn't know she had. But Vince knew. She took her own raincoat off as they moved toward the others. Jerry tossed the soiled one aside, Holly draped hers over Amanda's shoulders.
"I found the hood," Vince said, pulling the yellow piece from his pocket "That was smart thinking, leaving it there so I'd know which way to go."
They stood there, on the muddy road, beside the bakery truck, Holly touching Amanda's face. "It was Amanda's idea," she said softly. "Wasn't it Amanda?"
Amanda didn't answer. She'd retreated somewhere deep inside. Vince kept looking from one of them to the other, seeing things he hadn't seen before. Similarities in their cheekbones, in their noses, and the shape of their eyes.
"Come on, Amanda. Come on. Look at me," Holly urged. "You're going to be all right. It's over. It's finally over."
Amanda obeyed, meeting Holly's eyes, nodding but only briefly. Her head came up farther, and her eyes locked on to the bakery truck, and she just stood there, staring.
Agent Selkirk came out of the woods. He started toward the women, and Jerry held up a hand. "Don't even suggest questioning them about Marty's death. Not yet."
"He's right," the chief said. "We can get 'em in out of the cold, get them warm and dry, and take their statements there."
Gingerbread Man Page 28
