Grave Apparel (81 page)

Lacey
took a deep breath and willed herself not to react. She had children to think about. The girls stood silently in the hall in their
puffy
new
coats. She closed the apartment door as qui etly as she could, glad she
was
still wearing her leather
gloves.
She thought about calling the cops
immediately,
but
the killer could still be in the apartment,
waiting
for them, listening. Mac and Kim and
Vic
were all heading for this address,
but
she had to
make
sure she and the girls were safe
first.
They
had to get out of there.

“Aren’t
we going in?
Isn’t
she home?” Jasmine
asked.
Lacey
shook her head and put her
fingers
to her lips.
“But
I
want—”
Lily Rose
began.

Jasmine took one look at
Lacey
and
knew.
She put her hand
over
her
sister’s
mouth. “Shhh. The Santa Dude got
her.”

Somewhere
in the apartment, there
was
a crash. He
was
still in there. He
was
looking for something, perhaps for
two
little girls hiding from the Santa Dude.

Lacey
hit the
elevator
button
and heard the
creaky
machin ery start to
move.
Slowly.
She pointed the girls to the back stairs and hurried them along. In the stairwell, she whispered,
“Is
there a back door?” Her throat felt dry and tight, her heart
was
pounding and her stomach
was
in knots. Miss
Charday’s
apart

ment
faced
the street. The killer could see them if
they
went back out the front
door.

Jasmine nodded. “The
basement.”

They
scurried
down
three
flights
of
gray
concrete
steps
under a single dim
lightbulb.
Lacey
opened the basement
door.
“I left my teddy bear behind the
washers.”
Lily Rose
was
about to duck into the laundry room where she and Jasmine had been sleeping when Miss Charday
wasn’t
home to
take
them in. “No
time.”
Lacey
tried to
keep
the panic out of her
voice.

“Which
way,
Jasmine?”

They
heard the sound of a door slamming high
above
them on the stairwell and
heavy
footsteps pounding
down
the stairs.
They
pushed through the rusty metal basement door to the back
yard,
the
girls
leading
the
way.
Lacey
shoved
a
garbage
can
in
front of the
door.

“Come on!” She grabbed Lily Rose by one hand and Jas mine took her
sister’s
other hand to form a chain and
they
ran for the
alley.

“Miss Charday is dead,
isn’t
she?” Jasmine said. “He killed her too?”

“Yes.
We
have
to
run.”
Lacey
led
them
down
the
alley
and
past
the
dark
backs
of
blocks
of
townhouses
being
renovated
to
attract
people
with
much
more
money
than
Anna
Mai
Lee
and
Miss
Charday.
When
they
reached
the
street,
they
ducked
around
the
corner
and
behind
a
tree.
Lacey
pulled
out
her
cell
phone,
but
there
was
no
signal.
SEARCHING
,
it
said.
Searching
for
signal?!
she
thought.
In
the middle
of
Washington,
D.C.?!

“I’m
scared,”
Lily Rose said in a small
voice.

“I
knew
she
was
dead.”
Jasmine’s
lips were a tight line. “I
knew
he did
it.”

“We
have
to
keep
going,”
Lacey
said.
“We’ll
find
a
cab.”

There
were
no
cabs
on
this
street.
Most
of
the
buildings
were dark, under construction.
They
heard quick footsteps be hind them.
Lacey
looked
around the tree and
saw
what
looked
like
Henderson
Wilcox
pounding
down
the
alley
toward
them. In his hand he
was
swinging a long sixcell Maglite, the kind of metal flashlight cops carry as a baton,
heavy
enough to use as a weapon.
Heavy
enough to beat a
woman
to death.

Wilcox
swung the Maglite wildly in the dark, looking for
them.
He
must
have
left
the
fundraiser
right
after
she
did,
Lacey
thought. What had he
asked,
what had she told him, what

had he answered? Questions tumbled through her head as she grabbed the girls’ hands and ran.

A
large
round
tin
garbage
can
sat
on
the
corner.
Lacey
pushed it
over
on its side and sent it rolling behind them. She dragged the girls on a run
down
the block and across the street
toward
the nearest lighted
building,
the little church with the
Nativity.
There
was
a light on inside. Someone might be there.
Lacey
thought if only
they
could reach it,
they
might be safe. She heard their pursuer stumble and
fall
over
the can with a crash, swearing heartily as he fell. Jasmine turned and
looked.

“It’s
him,
it’s
the Santa Dude!”

Lacey
caught a glimpse of
Wilcox
on the ground in his
own
flashlight beam, his hair wild, his
face
contorted. Swearing as he
picked
himself up
off
the concrete, he dusted
off
his
expen
sive
suit, a festive red scarf around his neck. Lacey
silently
cursed him for
forever
turning a Santa cap for her into a
bogey
man’s
accessory,
and
a
candy
cane
into
a
weapon.
And
for
being a murderer of
children’s
mothers. He
was
back on his feet
now,
and he
looked
strong and
very
angry.
Lacey
remembered
he
had
struck
her
as
an
exathlete.
They
turned
the
corner.
Wilcox
was out of sight,
but
Lacey
saw
the flashlight
beam
swing into the dark recesses behind
bushes.

“My
side
hurts,”
Jasmine
said.
Lily
Rose’s
face
was
wet
with tears.

“Keep
running.”
Lacey
raced with them across the street to the side yard of the little church where Jasmine had
taken
the
shepherd’s
robe. Surely a church meant
sanctuary,
even
this
tiny
church. But
even
though the lights were on, the doors were
locked.
The three of them pounded on the doors. No one an swered. The only place to hide
was
in the
Nativity
stable
next
to the church. The Christmas lights outlining the
wooden
struc ture were
off
and it
was
dark inside.

The small
wooden
building
was
threesided, the front open to the street. The side
walls
looked
solid,
but
toward
the back of the right
wall
there
was
an opening concealed by
two
panels for actors to
make
their entrances and
exits,
before the
living
Na
tivity
had been replaced by plaster statues. She pushed the girls in ahead of
her.
To
Lacey’s
surprise, the stable
was
empty
ex
cept for the
manger.
The Holy
Family,
the shepherds, the an gels, the three kings: all gone. After losing their robes,
Pastor

Wilbur
Dean apparently decided not to risk his statues
after
dark.

Henderson
Wilcox
was
still across the street and
down
the block, searching the dark corners around empty
townhouses.
Peeking past the
wall
of the stable,
Lacey
saw
him
shake
his head and pound the big flashlight in his palm in rage. Jasmine
peeked
too, then
they
ducked
as the light swung across the front of their hiding place.
Lacey
pulled out her cell phone. It
was
fi
nally getting a signal.
Vic
didn’t
answer.
She left him a brief message:
They
were at the stable by the church.
They
were in trouble.
Hurry.

She called 911. It
was
ringing and ringing.
Lacey
hugged the little girls. It
was
getting colder and
snow
had started to
fall,
fat
chunky
flakes
like
the
inside
of
a snow
globe.
Their
breath
made white clouds.
Lacey
heard her name on the cold
air.

“Smithsonian!”

She
pulled
the
girls
close
and
they
huddled
at
the
back
of
the
stable,
behind
the
manger.
She
looked
at
her
phone:
The
con
nection
had
been
dropped.
SEARCHING
FOR
SIGNAL
.
She
cursed
silently.
Are
we
in the middle of
nowhere
up
here
in Shaw?!

There were bales of hay
stacked
high at the back on either side of the
manger,
taller than Jasmine, with a thin aisle behind where actors could
wait
for their cues. A hiding place. Jasmine and Lily Rose
tucked
themselves
behind the hay on the right side near the hidden
exit.
They
peeked
out to
watch
Lacey
as she pulled the shampoo bottle from her
pocket.
She opened the cap.