Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

  “It was just a bad day! I’m fine now.”

  “That’s what you said yesterday.”

  “And I just said I was sorry.”

  “I’m not looking for an apology. I’m looking out for you.”

  He got up from his desk and grabbed a handful of paper towel from near the whiteboard. He blotted his keyboard dry and threw the paper towel and the remnants of his coffee into the trash. He sat back down and started typing again. If he hadn’t tossed his coffee I would have thrown it in his face.

  “Benching me isn’t your call,” I said lowly.

  “It wasn’t,” Paddy said. “You wanna argue, take it up with Dixon. I got work to do.”

  I TOOK a walk. Then another. I had a coffee. Then another. I went to Max’s office and worked on my plan for the press conference. At 6:59 I ran down the stairs and ambushed Dixon as he was getting into his office.

  “You’re not off the case,” he told me, before I could say a word. “You’re just not in the field.”

  “But that’s where I should be,” I argued. “I admit I was shaken up yesterday, but it’s under control now, honest. Please, Dixon. I want to get this guy.”

  “You can help,” he said. “From the precinct.”

  “But—”

  “This is not a discussion, Shirley. Until we have a suspect in custody you are not to leave this building. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes sir,” I muttered.

  I turned toward the door, then turned back to Dixon. He regarded me evenly from behind his desk. “Is there something else?”

  I sat in the chair across from him, holding his gaze. “I want to do a press conference. If the kidnapper was on scene yesterday he probably saw me with Maria, which makes me the logical choice. I think I can lure him into a trap, and I won’t have to leave the precinct to do it.”

  I paused, prepared to counter his refusal. Instead he said, “Go on.”

  “We treat the explosion as a separate incident,” I said. “We haven’t released any information about the other missing girls, so the kidnapper can’t know we know he’s serial. I go on camera talking about the explosion, make it sound like we’re dragging our feet, and he’ll think it’s safe to come for Maria. I’ll tell him where to go, and we’ll be waiting for him.”

  Dixon lifted an eyebrow.

  “You,” I said quickly. “You and Paddy or whoever will be waiting for him. I’ll be waiting here. At the precinct.”

  Dixon nudged his glasses up his nose. “You’ve put some thought into this.”

  “Yes sir. We can get this guy today.”

  “You know what you’re going to say?”

  “Yes sir. I’ll need some of our people in the crowd and we’ll need to evacuate the Center, but otherwise I’m good to go. Maria is staying with Max at our apartment until this is over. I’d like to get some officers over there, just in case.”

  “I’ll look after it.” Dixon studied me for a long moment. I held my breath. The corners of his mouth softened. “You do seem better today.”

  “I’m ready to go,” I said emphatically. “Metaphorically speaking.”

  Dixon nodded. “All right. We’ll conference again at noon. I’ll have public relations get ahold of the media outlets. You get me your plan of action in the next hour.”

  I stood. “You’ll have it in twenty minutes.”

  “Good. And Shirley?” He looked at me over his glasses with the barest hint of a smile. “I’m glad you worked things out.”

  A warm feeling spread through my chest and I smiled back. “Yeah. Me too.”

  28

  I FROWNED at myself in the bathroom mirror, dabbing my lips with a tissue. I glanced at Josie. “You’re sure this isn’t too bright?”

  “It’ll read great on camera,” she assured me. “It makes you look like a PR rep.”

  “Does it make me unrecognizable?”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “It’s lipstick, Shirley, not a Halloween mask. The kidnapper will know exactly who you are.”

  I crumpled the tissue and tossed it in the wastebasket. I was ready. I was ready. I wasn’t ready. The lipstick was too bright. I grabbed another tissue.

  Josie caught my wrist. “Trust me. It looks great.”

  I blew out a sigh. “Okay. Thanks. And… thanks.”

  She gave me a hug. “Don’t sweat it. You had a bad day, which, statistically speaking, means you’re due for a good one.” She lowered her voice. “And I bet Max will think that lipstick is hot.”

  I smoothed the lapels of my blazer. “Max doesn’t like lipstick. He says it tastes like crayons.”

  “He’ll like it tonight, when he takes the woman who caught a serial kidnapper out on the town. That’s what you need to think about. Red lipstick, a slinky black dress, and your sexy husband on your arm.”

  “You think I’m ready?” I asked quietly.

  Josie winked. “Damn straight, girl. Now let’s go. Your public awaits.”

  THE CROWD was packed into the lobby, a sea of blank faces and blinking red lights. I stood behind the podium at the foot of the stairs, thinking ridiculous thoughts about the fire code capacity. I straightened my notes and looked to Dixon for the go-ahead. He nodded. I cleared my throat.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to thank you all for coming, and for your patience in this matter. As you can imagine, an incident like yesterday’s puts a heavy strain on the department’s resources. We are still in the beginning stages of the investigation, but we would like to release the following details to the public.

  “At approximately 3:30 PM on Wednesday afternoon, a residence in the Fowler neighborhood was destroyed by an explosion. We have confirmation of one fatality, who will remain unidentified until we contact next of kin. Additionally, two bystanders were injured in the event, and there is considerable structural damage within a half-mile radius. The cause of the explosion remains under investigation. We do not believe any houses in the area are at risk of a similar event.”

  I paused for a sip of water and flipped the page. I waited.

  “Oi!” came a voice from the back of the room. “What about the girl?”

  I scanned the crowd, as if searching for the source of the interruption. “Sir, please save all questions for the—”

  “I got a witness who saw you running from the scene with a little girl. Who is she? Is she all right?”

  The crowd began to murmur. I took another sip of water, stalling, acting flustered. Another voice called, “Tell us about the girl!”

  “Yeah, tell us about the girl!”

  I raised a hand against the growing unrest. “If you would all please—”

  “You coppers trying to hide something?” the first man cried. “The public got a right to know!”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss—”

  “Bollocks! Is she safe or not?”

  “Was this murder?” a woman cried. “Is anyone else in danger?”

  “Are you even investigating?”

  “Do you have any leads?”

  “What about the girl?”

  Uniformed officers moved in to break up the crowd. Dixon started towards me. I leaned into the microphone and said hurriedly, “The girl is safe. She’s with child services while we attempt to contact her family. We believe this was an isolated incident with no chance of—”

  Dixon took me firmly by the elbow and steered me up the stairs. I cast an anxious glance over my shoulder as the reporters were forced out the door. Dixon kept his grip on me until we were out of sight. Then he released me with a smile. “Well done.”

  It was another twenty minutes before we were all back in the office. Josie untucked her hair from a ball cap and Whale shed his phony glasses and patchy overcoat. I gave him a look. “Bollocks? That wasn’t in the script.”

  “It seemed appropriate,” he said with a smile.

  Paddy swiveled in his chair and snapped his phone shut. “All the kids are cleared out of the Center. They bussed them to an elementary school a
nd Highlands has surveillance on ‘em.”

  “Max and Maria are safe as well,” said Dixon. “Let’s pack up. We’re on the road in five.”

  I chewed my lip. “Dixon—”

  “Don’t ask. Stay here and answer the phones.”

  “I can help—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Shirley. Stay here until we get back.”

  He left without another word, Josie and Whale trailing behind him. Paddy lingered for a moment.

  “You did good,” he said. “I’ll call you when we’ve got him.”

  He left too, and I was alone.

  MY PHONE rang every two minutes.

  Already the media was spinning out rumors: the Briar Rose Police Department was concealing a young girl, presumably the daughter of the woman who rented the exploded house. We hadn’t released names, but it wouldn’t take a journalist much digging to string it all together. And once the networks started speculating about the victim’s orphaned child, it was a short trip from the story of one missing girl to another.

  That was the key. Speculation. Let the media make the connection and make us look like fools. Let the kidnapper think he had the jump on us. Let him waltz into the Center, looking for his missing niece.

  Let every goddamn person in the city call me with information on the case.

  I lifted the receiver on the second ring. “Detective Mordecai. Yes. Uh-huh. Your neighbor has been setting your trash on fire. No, I don’t think there’s a connection with the Fowler explosion, but you can file a complaint with the desk sergeant. Let me redirect your call.”

  I sent the call back to the switchboard and dropped my head in my hands. They were supposed to be screening before letting anyone through to me. If this was what they considered relevant… the phone rang again. “Detective Mordecai.”

  I listened with half an ear to a young man accuse me of profound stupidity, hanging up when he called me a bitch. I was preoccupied with thoughts of the Center. Everyone would be in position by now, waiting for the kidnapper to show. He’d know he had to act fast, before we realized our mistake and took Maria out of the Center, out of reach. He’d come today. Sometime in the next four hours he’d walk through the door and walk back out in cuffs, and Maria would be safe, and maybe I would put on a slinky dress and celebrate with Max, or maybe I’d skip the dress and just wear the lipstick…

  I picked up the phone. “Detective Mordecai.” I paused. “Who? Yeah, sure, send him up. Is he alone? No, just wondering. His partner’s a dick. Please hold my calls until further notice. Thanks.”

  I unplugged the phone gleefully, just in case. Talk about a lucky break. The thought of answering phones all afternoon was unbearable, even if it was a mess of my own making. At least I’d get to explain myself once this was over. Right now I looked like a rookie who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  A soft knock came at the door. I turned and plastered a smile on my face.

  “Officer Winters,” I said. “Come on in.”

  HE SHUFFLED into the office, tugging uncomfortably at his collar. “Do you mind if I shut the door?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He closed the heavy wooden door and stood in front of it, seemingly at a loss. I swept my arm around the room. “Help yourself to a chair.”

  “I’d rather stand.”

  He moved closer, though, perspiration dotting his wide forehead. He wasn’t jittery, but there was something wound tight below the surface. He’d yet to look me in the eye.

  “So what can I do for you?” I asked.

  “I’d like to speak with you,” he said stiffly. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  “I’ve got as long as you need. The rest of my team’s out on the sting and I’m stuck answering phones, so believe me, you’re not interrupting anything important.”

  His eyes flickered, small and rodent-like behind his circular glasses. Wire-rimmed. I’d have bet he wore bowties, too.

  He shifted side to side, still looking down. “I’d like to speak with you about yesterday.”

  “If it’s something that came up with Paddy, you’d be better off talking to him.”

  “No. I need to speak with you.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “Fire away.”

  “Maria,” he said, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s safe,” I assured him, recalling the look on his face at the crime scene. “She was in a shelter outside the blast radius. She wasn’t hurt.”

  “But she’s—she’s not truly at the Center, is she?”

  “No, of course not. The whole place is empty except for police. There’s nothing to worry about. The kidnapper won’t get anywhere near her.”

  He flinched, and his eyes went down again, his head shaking. “Kid—kidnapper? No. No, no.”

  I frowned. “No what? What do you mean?”

  “He’s… he’s not a kidnapper.”

  “He’s taking children,” I said slowly. “Orphaned little girls. Technically he’s a murderer too, or at least strongly suspected of murder, but it’s the girls he’s after, though what happens to them—”

  “No,” he said loudly. His hands curled into fists. “No, you took her. I saw you. You’re the kidnapper.”

  A twisted feeling was growing in my gut. “I got her to safety. That’s all.”

  He shook his head, back and forth, back and forth. I braced my hands against the chair’s armrests, tensing, my eyes narrowing. OCD, Scarlett called him. Meticulous attention to detail. But he’d left critical information out of Emily Waye’s file. He was connected to victim zero, and could easily have found the rest. He had the same access I did to the child services database. And the way he’d looked when he saw me with Maria…

  Maria. Not the girl. Just like Kimmie instead of Kimberly.

  “You called her Maria,” I said. “How do you know her name?”

  Carl Winters put his hands to his head, shaking, shaking. I eased out of my chair.

  “Officer Winters. How do you know her name?”

  Tears streamed down his face as he whispered, “Give her back.”

  “Carl—”

  He pointed his gun at me.

  I raised my hands in placation even as I took a step forward. “Carl, put that away. We can talk about this.”

  His chest heaved, his hands trembled, but he backed away from me. Academy 101. Guns are long-range weapons. Don’t let anyone get close enough to disarm you.

  I inched forward again.

  “What do you want, Carl?”

  “You know,” he whispered. “Give her back.”

  “Give who back?”

  “You know! You know! Give her back!”

  My heart pounded like a racehorse and I ached to draw my own gun, but he was skittish, and I wasn’t faster than a speeding bullet. He’d shoot me. He’d blown up a house to get to Maria, and he’d shoot me if he thought I was in the way. I had to convince him I wasn’t the enemy.

  “I don’t have her, Carl,” I said, holding my breath when the gun shivered.

  “I saw you!” he screeched. “You took her and she’s mine! Give her back!”

  I took another step, gesturing loosely with my hands. “Maria isn’t here, Carl. I’m at work. Do you think I would bring her to work on a day like today?”

  “Tell—tell me where she is.”

  “You know I can’t do that. I have to keep her safe.”

  He laughed, high-pitched and childlike. “No, no, you don’t care. I can tell. You’re one of the bad ones.”

  “Carl—”

  “You don’t want her.”

  I hesitated, suddenly off balance. Carl’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a bad mother.”

  Ice crept up my spine, freezing in my lungs, sending flutters through my chest.

  “No,” I whispered. “No, I—”

  “I see it. The darkness.”

  He took a step forward. I took one back.

  “It follows you. It covers you. Like death.”


  Carl took a step forward. I didn’t breathe.

  “Bad mother,” he said. “And the bad ones get taken away.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Carl watched me, studied me, knew everything about me.

  “Bad mother,” he said. “So you give her a father.” His lips curled. “Max.”

  I went for my gun.

  Carl was faster.

  And I was on the floor.

  My vision was white, pain hammering in my ears. I rolled instinctively, just as the next round shattered the tile beside me. I rolled backward, beneath the desk, trying again for my gun. I got it free and fired blindly, not stopping until I’d emptied the clip. I didn’t have another. I waited to die.

  I blinked, and blinked, until there were shadows and colors again. The door was open. Carl was gone.

  Max.

  My phone. My phone was on the desk. I grabbed the edge of the desk and pulled myself up, the room swirling. I patted the desk frantically. Nothing. Nothing. I caught the corner of my cell phone and dragged it to the floor.

  I couldn’t hold it. My hands were slippery. My head hurt. God, my head. Focus, focus. One button would call Max, warn him. I laid on my stomach, laid the phone down on the floor. Blood ran into my eyes, warm and thick and red as lipstick. I smeared it away. One button. Right there. Hit the button.

  I heard ringing. It might have been my ears.

  Then, “Yeah.”

  Paddy. Jesus Christ, wrong button, wrong button.

  “Shirley? You there?”

  “Max,” I croaked. I wiped blood from my lips. “Max.”

  “What the hell? Shirley?”

  “Get Max,” I whispered. “Come… coming for him.”

  “Who’s coming for him? Shirley? What the hell’s going on?”

  Carl, I tried to tell him. The kidnapper, I tried to say. But the world was turning dark and I was fading away, and all that came out was, “Help.”

  VOICES.

  Pain.