Christmas At Timberwoods (20 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Christmas At Timberwoods
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“I know.”
“What you said a moment ago, about coming back here—is it the mall itself that draws you or someone in the mall?”
Angela replaced the coffee mug on the table. “What did you just say, Daddy?” Her pinched, narrow face looked stunned.
“I said,” he repeated quietly, “is it the mall or someone in the mall that keeps bringing you back here?”
She stared at him, thinking. “That’s it,” she said suddenly. “It isn’t the mall.” She slapped her forehead. “God, how could I have been so stupid? Of course. It’s someone I know here that’s responsible. That’s why it can’t be stopped and why the vision is going to come true. It’s a person.”
Murray felt real fear for the first time in his life, gut fear. Somehow he had always believed in his daughter’s visions, even though he had never let the belief surface until now. “Okay,” he said, more calmly than he felt. “We’ve established that it’s a person. Let’s run down your list. Who do you know that you feel is capable of blowing up a mall and killing thousands of innocent people?”
“Daddy, I don’t have a list. I know some kids from college who work here. There are a lot of freaks and a lot of straights. I know a few of the mall personnel, some of the security people, the Santa Claus and a few of his elves. There’s no way I could pick out anyone and say that he or she is the one.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Murray said. “You come back to my motel with me, and we’ll spend the evening making a list, one by one, together. Maybe we’ll come up with something. How’s that sound?”
“Good,” Angela said.
Maria Andretti woke from her nap, her face more flushed than usual. Feebly she tried to kick off the covers. She wanted a drink. She felt too hot, like in the summertime when she lay on the beach and there was no shade. “Mommy,” she cried weakly.
“I’m right here, honey. I’ll get you some juice and then you rest.”
“Will you open the drapes? I want to look out. Is it nice today?”
“Very nice, but very cold.”
“Mommy, you promised to . . .”
“I know, honey, and I talked to Dr. Tucker. We’re watching the temperature very closely. As soon as it’s warmer, we’re going to take you over to the mall. But first we have to make this pesky fever of yours go away. I’m going to rub you down with a cool washcloth as soon as you’ve drunk this juice. That’ll make you feel better.”
Maria gazed out of the window across the highway to the mall. She couldn’t see very well. Yesterday she had been able to see right to the roof of the shopping center. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. She still couldn’t see across the highway. Maybe it was the fever. After Mommy helped her cool off, she might be able to see better. When was she going to get well? When would the doctor let her get out of bed so she could play with her brothers and sisters? When was she going to be able to go back to school? She missed all her friends and the teacher.
“I just have to get better, I have to!” Maria cried, burying her face in her pillow.
Charlie Roman walked nervously up and down the mall. From time to time he handed out a candy cane and a coloring book. Every so often he uttered a hoarse “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
He couldn’t remember ever being so furious in his whole life. Did she have to come to the mall? Why did she have to pour salt into his open wound? Wasn’t her blatant rejection of him enough? Was this the way she got her kicks? And to think he’d ever thought she was a special person. She wasn’t like the rest of them, she was worse. She had used him and then betrayed him. It struck him as almost funny that she’d warned him about the mall blowing up. What would she think if she knew he was the one who was going to make it blow? He’d show her. He’d show them all.
He had to get back up on the roof. He had to! The maintenance men had been up there since early this morning, clearing away the snow. Tomorrow the weatherman predicted that the temperature would be going up, and Miguel, one of the maintenance crew, had told Charlie they were going to continue patching the roof if he could find the missing propane tank.
The tank was an integral component of his device. That, plus jury-rigged machinery, a timer, and the mall’s own HVAC system were what it would take.
Perspiration beaded Charlie’s forehead when he thought of what could happen if someone put two and two together. Miguel had complained to Dolph Richards about the missing propane tank, but the manager had ignored him. Now, with the predicted rise in temperature, the roof would start leaking again and it would be all systems go. Someone was sure to mention the missing tank then. Charlie had heard Miguel say that the crew was waiting for the deliveryman to come around to check how many tanks he had delivered. Because of the cold, the demand for bottled gas had increased, and the supplier was two days behind schedule. Many houses in the outlying areas needed propane for their stoves, and the deliveryman had stated that his residential customers came first. Besides, he was insisting that he had delivered four tanks, not the three that remained. According to Miguel, he refused to consider there might have been a mistake.
Charlie had heard that there wasn’t that much snow on the roof; the snowblowers had made quick work of it. So what was taking so long? Surely they couldn’t be working up there on anything else. Maybe he had missed them somehow. If only he could think of a way to get one of the crew down here, or manufacture a reason for him to go up.
Charlie’s body was bathed in sweat beneath the heavy red velvet suit, and the Santa beard was almost more than he could bear. He pressed the tiny button on his digital watch and noted the time. Conceivably he could take a break, but where and what would he do?
“Charlie, is that you?” Harry Skyer answered his own question, peering into Charlie’s startled eyes. “Thought so. Doing walk-arounds now, huh? Have you seen Ramon?” he asked, tapping him on the shoulder. “It’s time to change the sale banner on the billboard by the roof, and he isn’t here. Do you think that on your way downstairs you could tell him to come up? I’ve called up there, but they’re not answering.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Skyer,” Charlie said hoarsely.
“That’s some cold you have there, Charlie. I didn’t think Santa ever got sick,” the store owner joked.
“Sounds worse than it is,” Charlie said agreeably. “I’ll get Ramon for you.”
How could he be so lucky? Quickly the big man walked to the escalator and rounded the corner. His breathing was ragged as he bolted through the exit door leading to the roof. He could pretend that he didn’t know where Ramon was, and that would explain why he was up on the roof.
Halfway up the long flight of stairs, he had to stop and rest. Instead of feeling better from all the medicine he was taking, he was feeling worse. His chest felt as though it were on fire, and he could barely swallow.
He opened the door leading to the roof, stuck his head out, and decided to go all the way. He was already sick—what did the cold matter? He spotted his coworker.
“Miguel, is Ramon up here?”
“Yeah, he’s over there on the snowblower.”
“Mr. Skyer wants him to change the banner on the sign.”
“Why don’t you do it, Charlie? I need Ramon up here. And it’s almost quitting time. Never mind. Forget it,” Miguel said, eyeing Charlie. “You look awful. You’d never make it up the ladder.”
Miguel waved to the short, slender man riding the chugging snowblower. Ramon shut off the machine and walked gingerly over the rooftop to his boss.
“Old man Skyer wants the banner changed.”
“All right, I do it now. I work the day shift tomorrow, remember?”
“
Sí
. Hey, Charlie,” Miguel called, “did you steal one of my propane tanks?”
Charlie shook his head, his stomach churning.
“Man, don’t look so scared. I’m only kidding. Some son of a bitch stole my tank. I report and nothing happens. Nobody do anything. Who pay for the tank when the time comes to take it back? Not me.”
“They can’t blame you, Miguel,” Charlie croaked. “It’s probably just some mix-up. Nobody in this place knows what anyone else is doing. It doesn’t pay to complain. When you complain you lose your job.” That should give him something to think about.
“Yeah. You right, Charlie. Let the bosses do what they want. I come, I do my work, and I go home. No more I tell them anything. They pay for the propane tank.”
“Forget it,” Charlie muttered. “Nobody will even remember. See you later.”
“
Sí
, Charlie. Later. You take whiskey for that cold.”
“Sure, sure,” Charlie agreed, going down the stairs. Good enough. He’d done his recon. Just checking. The plan was going forward.
 
 
Maria Andretti sat propped up in her bed, fluffy pillows behind her thin, wasted body. She still couldn’t see across the highway. She didn’t feel so feverish anymore, but she still didn’t feel good. It was such an effort to move.
“Mommy, look across at the roof. Do you see anything?”
“There are some men working, that’s all. Why?”
“Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”
“No, honey, just some men.”
“They’re getting the roof ready,” Maria said weakly.
“Getting it ready for what?”
“For Santa. It’s my miracle.”
“Maria, what are you talking about?” Carol Andretti asked nervously.
“I was going to surprise you when we went to the mall and Santa recognized me. He waved to me from the roof. He’s getting ready. Don’t you see? That’s why I have to go to the shopping center. He’s waiting for me. I saw him three times! Mommy, are you sure he isn’t on the roof? When I wish very hard, he comes. Please, Mommy, see if he’s there.”
Carol Andretti swallowed hard and looked across the highway at the Timberwoods roof. Holy cow. There he was. Her eyes widened. “He is there, honey, I see him! Look,” she said, lifting the frail child. “Can you see him?”
“No, I can’t see that far. Yesterday, I could see the roof, but my eyes are too tired today.”
“Shhh. He knows you can’t see him. But he knows that I’m here and that I’ll tell you he waved.”
“Mommy, when will I be better?”
She found it difficult to swallow and her eyes burned, but Carol forced herself to answer. “Soon, baby, soon.”
“Mommy, can we go tomorrow? You promised. I want to go tomorrow.”
Carol held her daughter close. “Yes, honey, tomorrow. I promise. But now I have something to tell you. Do you think you can be very brave?”
“Uh-huh.”
“After . . . after we take you to the mall, we have to take you back to the hospital. You may have to stay here over Christmas.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Little Maria’s voice was tremulous. “As long as you take me to see Santa first. You won’t break your promise, will you?”
“No, baby, I won’t break my promise. We’ll go late in the afternoon and then go to the hospital. I’m going to get you some more juice, and I want you to drink it all and then have a nice nap. You have to be strong to go out, even in a wheelchair.”
“Okay, Mommy. Oh, thank you, thank you. Mommy, you really did see him, didn’t you?”

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