by Clare Revell
Holly scoffed, taking comfort in the fact that God, like Pastor Jack had said in his sermon a couple of weeks back, would give her the strength she needed to remain single. She had a business to run, and men were nowhere on her list of priorities. She could fix cars, replace fuses and wire plugs. She could mow the lawn and do the gardening, plus paint and wallpaper. What did she need a man for? “Stace, if God wanted me married, He’d find me a man.”
“Oh? It has nothing to do with you at all, then? Sitting at home on your own won’t produce a man, you know. I swear, Hols, you don’t have a romantic bone in your body.”
“See, now there’s your problem, right there. Ro-man-tic. I reckon Phil turned your head with his manly charms and boyish good looks. Or maybe it’s just the bright red truck he drives. You always were a sucker for a man in uniform.”
Stacey’s silver laughter echoed down the phone. “What you need is to fall head over heels with someone.”
“Hmm, why do they call it falling in love anyway?”
“No idea, it just is. And you should hit it off with Kyle tomorrow. You guys have a lot in common. He has the most amazing car with a personalized plate. He calls it his baby. And he’s a Christian.”
That doesn’t make him my new best friend. It makes him a man who goes to church.
Holly rolled her necklace between her fingers. “Yeah well, anyway. Have a great night and I’ll see you in the morning. And I’m sorry, again. Love you.”
Hanging up, Holly got out of the semi-warm car into the frigid night air. She glared at the vehicle. Of all the times to break down, it had to pick tonight. She put the phone back on her belt and checked the street before sliding back under the car. Kyle must be a fireman like Phil. Right now she didn’t need a fireman or rescuing. She just needed to fix the car, then go home and clean this grease off her clothes.
The last thing I need in my life is a man. All I want for Christmas is a nice bloke? Don’t think so. All I want for Christmas is not to be afraid anymore. But that would take a miracle, and miracles just don’t happen in the twenty-first century .
****
Kyle let himself into the quiet house as the clock in the hall struck nine. The rehearsal had been fun, despite the chief bridesmaid not turning up. Dinner had also been good, although he left early to allow the others some privacy on their last night. Phil had kept his word and dropped the subject of women. For which Kyle was eternally grateful.
Locking the front door, he headed into the kitchen. A huge black Irish wolfhound almost bowled him over as soon as he stepped through the door. He dropped to his knees, petting the dog. “Hey, Orion. Did you miss me?”
Orion barked, licking Kyle’s face.
“Silly thing, aren’t you?” Kyle sat there playing with the dog’s ears. “You didn’t miss much. This woman Phil’s been raving about was a total no show.” He laughed as Orion started to lick his fingers. “Yes, we had pizza. You can smell it, huh. Are you hungry?”
Orion barked and ran over to the cupboard his food lived in. Kyle pushed himself up and laughed. “I take it that’s a yes.” He fed the dog, and then washed his hands. He pulled down a glass and moved to the fridge. He poured a large glass of juice, letting the fridge door swing shut on its own. Carrying it to the table, he sat down and pulled open the paper.
Stifling a yawn, he read the headlines. The postal strike was over after talks with the union succeeded in brokering a pay deal. The M25 had reopened after major resurfacing work. The rain in Cumbria had caused severe flooding. There were pictures of the RAF airlifting people to safety from a pub. He flicked through the paper twice, his eyes scanning for one article in particular.
There was nothing about it at all. No news wasn’t good news in this case. Why hadn’t the police caught him yet?
Kyle’s mind strayed back to the woman motorist he stopped to help. Why had she refused? Surely she didn’t think he was the killer stalking the streets of Headley Cross? He wanted him caught, locked up and the key thrown away as much as the rest of the town. Getting up, he stretched and walked over to the dresser, picking up the photo of Jayne. He ran his fingers over the glass. Why did he have to take you? I should have cancelled the client and driven you home myself, not let you go out alone.
Guilt flooded him again and two tears tracked slowly down his cheeks, before he brushed them away with the back of his hand.
He knew it wasn’t his fault, but it didn’t stop the feeling he could have done something, anything. He had chosen work over the woman he loved, and the killer had taken Jayne, beaten and murdered her, leaving her torn and battered body on the side of the road as if it were a piece of rubbish dropped by a careless child and blown about by the wind.
Reaching for the phone, he dialed the number he knew off by heart. It was a multiple murder investigation. Someone manned the phones around the clock. The phone answered, and he took a deep breath. “Hello, my name is Kyle Stevens. I was just wondering if there was any development on the murders, yet.”
He broke off at the tone of resignation in the officer’s voice. “No, Mr. Stevens. There is no news. As soon as there is a development, we’ll tell you.”
“OK, thank you.” Kyle hung up, pulled open the drawer, and took out a bulging file full of news clippings. He carried it to the table and spread it open. His father said his fascination with the case was unhealthy. But he was involved. Personally involved, and it didn’t matter what anyone said. Seven photos of women stared up at him. The six who were murdered and the one who got away.
Holly Carmichael.
She had the same first name as the no-show chief bridesmaid.
He ran his finger over Jayne’s picture before looking at the photo of this man’s first victim. She’d carried an alarm which she’d managed to set off, thus scaring off the attacker, summoning help, and escaping with her life. Badly injured according to the news article, but she was alive.
Why her? Why her and not Jayne?
The thought sprang into being before he could stop it, followed by more guilt. Forgive me, I should not wish the way I feel on another family. No doubt she feels guilty for surviving when so many others have not. Be with her, help her recovery. And, Lord, please let the police catch this bloke before he hurts anyone else. No other family should have to go through this.
He got up and put the file away. “Come on, Orion. Time for walkies. Just around the block tonight, I have an early start in the morning.” Tomorrow was going to be a very long and very hard day.
Season for Miracles
2
The wedding was due to start at midday. By twenty past twelve and no sign of the bride, frayed nerves were beginning to show. Kyle sat with Phil at the top of the aisle, faintly amused at the way his friend kept glancing over his shoulder and shifted in his seat. He gave him a wry smile as Phil asked the same question for the umpteenth time. “She’ll be here soon, mate. Maybe the traffic’s bad. It’s the last Saturday before Christmas. The shoppers will be out in force.”
“Or she changed her mind.”
“She’ll be here.”
“Have you got the rings?”
Tempted to pat down all of his pockets and pretend he hadn’t, Kyle took pity on his panicking best friend and nodded. “Yes, I have them.”
“Good.” Phil turned and looked at the door. “Why isn’t she here?”
“Because its tradition for the bride to be late. And we both know how that woman of yours loves tradition. Maybe it’s payback for seeing her the night before the wedding?”
“Yeah, well, there’s tradition, and there’s late.” Phil looked at his watch, shaking it. “Maybe my watch stopped.”
“She’ll be here.” Kyle smiled. “Want me to go outside and see if they’ve arrived? Maybe the photographer’s having a field day like he did with us.”
“Please.”
Kyle nodded and got up. He headed down the aisle. If I ever get married I’ll give her what for if she’s late.
Outside, the air was crisp and invigo
rating. Kyle rubbed his arms and smiled at Pastor Jack. “Phil’s getting twitchy.”
Pastor Jack smiled. “Mr. Jones rang a few minutes ago. The traffic was solid at Cemetery Junction, but they are finally through it and should be here soon.”
Kyle nodded, tucking his hands under his arms to keep them warm. He waited a few more minutes and turned to go back in. As he did, the cars arrived outside the church. He leaned against the door as the cars came to a halt, giving him a glimpse of Stacey. He returned her wave then looked at the other car. The driver got out and opened the back door. Mrs. Jones and two bridesmaids got out. The smaller one, Phil’s niece, he knew and waved to her, rewarded with a beaming smile and a twirl. He gave her a thumbs up and blew her a kiss, smiling as she mimed catching it.
He glanced at the other bridesmaid, the no-show woman from the night before. The red velvet dress with white trimming on the cuffs suited her slender figure and brown hair. She straightened, and he got a good look at her face. His breath caught.
He turned away quickly, wanting to control the sudden burst of emotion that flooded him. There was no mistaking it. She was the woman from the paper. The first victim of the serial killer. The only one who survived when his Jayne, and so many others, hadn’t.
He headed inside, needing time to assimilate this new information, before he spoke to her. A tidal wave of anguish engulfed him, threatening to drown him and wash away what fragile control he had right now. He slid into the seat next to Phil. “They got held up in traffic, but just arrived. The photographer is working on them now. Stacey looks amazing.”
Phil smiled. “Good, but then she always does. Hey, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”
“I’m fine. It’s cold out there.” Kyle closed his eyes. Why did it have to be her, Lord? Today is hard enough without having this thrown in my face.
After a few more minutes, Pastor Jack made his way down the aisle. “She’s here. Would you both like to come and join me?”
Phil nodded and got up, moving to the front. Kyle stood next to him. Why was he nervous? It wasn’t as if he were the one getting hitched, after all. Could this woman have affected him that much just from one glance? He wasn’t ready, he knew that much. He glanced back to the door, catching a glimpse of a figure in red. Turning before she saw him, he prayed he’d get through the day without dropping himself in it. The last thing the woman needed was to know his connection to the murders.
****
Holly arranged Stacey’s train in the lobby, smiling as Mr. Jones soothed Stacey’s last-minute nerves, assuring her that all brides were late and Phil wouldn’t hold it against her for the rest of her life. Straightening up, Holly glanced through the door and saw Phil and his best man waiting at the top of the aisle. Phil hopped from one foot to the other and as he glanced back, Holly noticed the nervous smile plastered to his face.
The poor guy probably wondered if we were ever coming. One thing I’ll never be is late to my own wedding . Not that she was getting married, of course. But if she did, she would be on time, if not early.
She looked at the best man, but he was facing the front, hands tight by his side and back ramrod straight. He evidently wasn’t impressed by their tardiness. The music began and Holly followed Stacey up the aisle.
Holly didn’t need the words on the order of service for the first hymn. It was her favourite, and she sang, resisting the temptation to peek over at the best man who was the most amazing tenor. He sounded familiar, but she pushed that thought aside. She hadn’t met him before.
Towards the end of the hymn, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled with the feeling he was sizing her up. She glanced over, but he looked away.
The hymn finished, and Holly took Stacey’s flowers. She sat with both bunches of flowers on her lap as her best friend exchanged vows with her fiancé. Despite always coming without a man in tow, Holly loved weddings and being a bridesmaid. Chief bridesmaid was fun, even if this was the sixth time.
She was, however, dreading dancing with, and being escorted by the best man. In her vast experience, ‘best man’ had to be the greatest misnomer ever invented. They were boring, over dressed, and over rated. Not to mention full of themselves and their importance. And the speeches would drag.
At least this one looked the part in his tail coat with his top hat on the chair behind him. Just so long as he kept his distance, everything would be fine.
Holly smoothed the red velvet fabric over her knees. Her hair, piled on top of her head with the red rose headdress pinned to it, itched, and she would give anything to be able to pull the wretched thing out and scratch. Holly was allergic to hairspray and never used it, but the salon girl had covered her with it. She just hoped she’d not come out in a rash. That would look wonderful in all the photos.
After what seemed an eternity, the service finished. Holly returned Stacey’s flowers and then followed the newlyweds to the vestry to sign the register. Kyle followed and stood next to her while the others signed and posed for photos. He towered over her.
She glanced up at him. At just over five feet two, she should be used to everyone being taller, but he was taller than most men she’d met, with sparkling hazel eyes and a shock of dark hair that stood up in spikes.
Did he gel to make it stand up or did it do so naturally? Either way it gave him a rugged, handsome look. Stacey was right about one thing. This guy had the wow factor, all right. Did he have the personality to match or would he be like every other man she’d encountered?
A waft of the same cologne swept over her and she shuddered. Did every man have to wear the same as him?
Kyle turned a pair of fathomless dark eyes on her and smiled, looking at her directly for the first time. Holly’s cheeks burned as she realized with a sinking feeling that he’d caught her studying him. His voice was deep and familiar, sending ripples of unease down her spine. He held out a hand, his grip firm, soft and cool as she shook it. “You must be Holly.”
“And you’re Kyle.” His touched burned, and she dropped his hand as soon as she could. It was the same with all men now.
“We missed you at the rehearsal last night. Stacey was devastated you couldn’t make it. You missed a good night. We went out for pizza afterwards and had a right laugh.”
Shock resonated as she put a body to the voice. It was the stranger from the previous night. He’d stood way too close, then; now, he really was. She dug her nails into her palms, panic welling inside again.
She took a step backwards, pretending to lose her balance. “The clutch cable on the car snapped and by the time I’d fixed it, it was too late. Stacey rang when I was part way through doing it.”
A mixture of surprise and shock crossed Kyle’s face. “You changed your own clutch cable?”
“Yes. I’m not some brainless female who doesn’t know one end of the car from the other.”
Stacey’s laugh came from across the room. “Kyle Stevens, meet Holly Carmichael. She’s the best mechanic I’ve come across. What she doesn’t know about cars isn’t worth knowing.”
Holly wrinkled her nose, the presence of the others allaying her fears a little. Nothing will happen so long as I’m not alone with him. She glanced from Kyle to Stacey. “You’re a tad biased there, Stace.”
“Maybe a tad, but it’s true.”
Kyle looked impressed. “You don’t look like a mechanic.” He grabbed her hands and inspected them, not letting go as Holly tried to tug away. “No grease, no chipped nails.” He ran his thumbs over them, sending goose bumps shooting up her arms. “No sign of roughness.” His lingering gaze ran down her body, and her cheeks burned so hot she was sure they were the same colour as her dress. For a moment she wished the bodice of the dress wasn’t so low cut or tight. His gaze returned to her face, a hint of a smile on his lips and appreciation in his eyes. “With a figure like that, I’d say you were a ballet dancer or a model rather than a mechanic.”
A ballet dancer or a model? Men! He’s no better than t
he rest . Anger replaced the panic. Holly jerked her hands away, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around her stomach. She had enough of that kind of comment each day at work, without getting it on her day off.
She was far too short for either of those professions, never mind that she wouldn’t be seen dead in a leotard and tutu, or prancing down a catwalk with every man in the building eyeing her well-endowed figure. Her brother teased her that what she lacked in height, God had more than made up in other attributes. She knew all too well where that had got her.
Holly ran her gaze over the broad shoulders and taut body which Kyle’s tailed frock coat, white shirt, and silver waist coat showed off to perfection. The red tie matched the colour of her dress. “And you look like you escaped from a zoo. How is the penguin enclosure these days?”
Phil’s raucous laughter defused the situation. “You asked for that one, Kyle. Come and sign this, Holly, then I can go show off my wife and get this party started.”
Glad to get away from Kyle, Holly moved to the table and signed the register. She gave the pen to Kyle, swallowing hard as he switched it to his left hand.
He’s left handed . A flash of a man holding the blade against her throat hit her. She shuddered and clutched the table for support, hoping no one noticed.
Kyle scrawled his signature. The registrar signed the books and handed the certificate to Stacey. She immediately gave it to Phil. He smiled and put it in his pocket.
Stacey looked at the photographer. “Can we have one of all of us?”
“Sure. If you men put your arms around the girls and smile?”
Holly stiffened as Kyle’s arms surrounded her, pulling her back against his hard body. A hand on her shoulder would suffice. His very male presence washed over her, invading her personal space, his cologne suffocating. It was all she could do not to run screaming from the room. Managing a faint smile for the camera, she moved away as soon as Kyle let go.
Holly arranged Stacey’s train and straightened her veil, taking longer than necessary. Tuning out the conversation, she jumped as a hand fell on her shoulder. She glanced up into the worried eyes of her friend.
