In The Bleak Midwinter: A Special Agent Constance Mandalay Novel (40 page)

“I have a confession,” Constance said. “I ran
a background check on you, so I already know about your career and
the predators you took down.”

He nodded. “Would’ve been disappointed in you
if you hadn’t. I figured you for a good cop, even if you are a
Fed.”

She took a sip of her drink instead of
replying. She wasn’t offended by the latter comment. She was
actually used to taking grief from other branches of law
enforcement. Ben even referred to bureau agents as the
Feebs
. He always said it was short for
Feeble Bumbling
Incompetents
. Then he would be quick to add, “Present company
excluded, of course.”

She waited a moment, then spoke up to bring
the story full-circle. “And then you came back to Hulis…”

“Yeah, and that’s when I found out the rest
of it.”

Constance perked an eyebrow as the verbal
bomb landed squarely between them. She was under the impression
that she knew where the story went from there, surreal and
unbelievable as it was. She canted her head, looking at Carmichael
with fiery curiosity clear in her eyes.

“The rest of it?” she asked.

“Yeah… Shortly after it all happened, Tom and
Elizabeth sort of dropped out of life. Folks didn’t see them much
around town. Tom went to work, came home, and that was about it
except when they needed groceries and the like. Then you’d see one
or the other out for a bit, but only as long as necessary. Even
stopped going to the church over in Mais and started home schooling
Rebecca. Other than that they kept completely to themselves.

“It wasn’t that folks didn’t try, mind you.
People would call, and even drop by, but they usually wouldn’t
answer the phone or the door. When they did, they’d just send
whoever it was away as fast as they could.

“Whenever someone would run into one of them
around town they would ask about Merrie, of course.” He shrugged.
“They would just say she was doing fine and then excuse themselves.
It was peculiar, but everyone pretty much chalked it up to them
just losing trust in the world. Not all that hard to imagine,
after…well…you know.”

“Anyway, didn’t hear much detail about their
lives until they had that scare when they thought Merrie was going
to die.” He paused, then let out a harrumph. “I guess that sounds
kinda odd after everything I’ve just told you.”

“I remember mentioning that,” Constance
offered.

“Yeah…well… The truth came out after they
were killed in that car crash.”

“What do you mean truth?”

“Seems Elizabeth had been keeping journals.
Almost daily as a matter of fact.”

“About what?”

“Merrie,” he explained. “Or Rebecca. Depends
on the day.”

“I still don’t follow.”

Carmichael blew out a loud sigh through his
nose, then absently brushed his mustache. After a weighty pause he
continued. “Right around the time Merrie’s remains mysteriously
disappeared, so did the little girl I picked up from the middle of
the street.”

Constance stared back at him. Finally she
said, “Are you saying what I think you are?”

He nodded. “Some days Rebecca was Rebecca.
Other days, she was Merrie. The wounds would even show up on her
body. Then later, of course, they were scars. But like stigmata,
they were there.

“Doctors tried to treat it like some sort of
multiple personality illness, but that didn’t work, obviously.
Apparently they almost killed her in the process, which would have
meant Tom and Elizabeth would have lost both their daughters.

“But she survived,” he breathed. “And she
tried to make a life for herself. Even made it through college. Not
without a few bumps, of course, but she did it.”

“So you’re saying Rebecca Callahan is the
woman living in Holly-Oak now?”

“I guess it depends on how you look at it,
Constance,” he sighed. “Not long after Tom and Elizabeth died, she
started getting worse. She was Merrie more often than Rebecca.
Folks here in town looked after her, but it wasn’t easy. By the
time I moved back and ran for sheriff, she had become Merrie full
time. She hasn’t been Rebecca since.”

C
HAPTER
31

10:56 A.M. – December 26, 2010

Sheriff’s Department

Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

“DECIDED
what to put in your report
yet, Special Agent Mandalay?” Sheriff Carmichael asked.

“No, sir,” Constance replied. “I
haven’t.”

He cleared his throat, then nodded, looking
down at the ground. “Yeah…that’s pretty much what I figured. I was
kinda hoping you’d say something different though.”

“I know what I saw, and I know what you’ve
told me. However, I’m not sure any of it would stay in the file if
that’s what I submitted,” she offered. “I get the feeling it would
disappear like previous accounts.”

“True…” he said with a nod. “Of course, you
know the whole story. The rest of them don’t. Well, except for
Agent Graham.”

“I know,” she replied, then bit her lip. “I’m
going to try to change that, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

“Yeah, I know. Not sure what good it would do
anyway. I doubt it would change anything.” He paused, visibly
weighing his next comment before saying it aloud. Finally, he
offered, “You know it’s not just the face, don’t you? If you run
it, that ten-print card for the victim is gonna match John Horace
Colson’s fingerprints.”

She nodded, “I assumed as much.”

“But you and I both know that can’t be who
was in that basement.”

“Under any other circumstances I’d agree,
Skip,” Constance replied. “But after all this… Well…I’m not so
sure.”

“So…maybe you get it now.”

“I’ll admit, I think I now have an intimately
better understanding of why the bureau file on this case is
incomplete.”

He snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure you do...”

“I didn’t say it was right,” she added. “I
just understand the ‘why’.”

“Yeah… I guess I do too.” Changing the
subject, he nodded toward her feet. “So… I see you’re wearin’ those
stilts again.”

Constance looked down at her shoes and let
out a shallow laugh. “Merrie liked them the other day, and I
stopped by to see her this morning, so…”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Martha?”

“Yep.”

“I assumed she would call you.” Constance
shrugged. “I guess the dressing up is a carryover from my own
childhood—visiting family for the holidays and such. Mom always
wanted us to look our best.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Although, I’ll be honest,” she added. “I was
a bit worried about the visit. I wasn’t sure if Martha would even
let me in the door, much less in to see Merrie. I was a little
surprised that I didn’t meet with any resistance when I arrived. In
fact, she was actually very pleasant to me.”

“She was expecting you,” he replied.

“That’s what she said. Did you have anything
to do with that?”

“Maybe…” He allowed the word to dangle in the
air for a moment.

Constance could sense that there was more to
the story. She waited, but when nothing else was forthcoming, it
became apparent that he was fishing, so she decided to chum the
waters a bit more. “You know, I almost called you first before
going over there. I was really expecting somewhat of a repeat of
the first meeting, even though this time all I wanted to do was see
how she was doing. I had honestly figured Merrie wouldn’t even
remember me, since everything seems to reset for her.”

Based on his response, she had apparently
used the correct bait.

“She did though, didn’t she,” Skip offered
the words as a statement, not as a question.

She answered anyway. “Yes. Oddly enough, she
did. I was surprised, to say the least.”

“She always does,” he explained. There was
something palpable in his tone that made him sound somewhat
relieved by her response. “Don’t know why. Everything else is
always wiped clean, but she remembers the visits from you Feds. For
a while, anyway.”

“A mystery within a mystery within a…” she
let her voice trail off.

He nodded.

After a lengthy pause, he cleared his throat
and said, “Since we’re being honest, that’s another one of the
reasons you didn’t get a very warm reception when you first arrived
in town.”

“Oh? After our talk last night, I just
assumed it was the way the bureau handled things thirty-five years
ago that made me a pariah.”

“Well, that didn’t help, but a lot of the
folks who remember that are long gone. You know how protective we
are of her,” he explained with a sigh. “Every year it’s been the
same. One of you Feds shows up and insists on interviewing her.
Then, come Christmas night, after everything is over, and Merrie is
Merrie again, she starts talking about Mister Drew, or Mister
Keene, or whoever was sent that year. For some unknown reason she
expects them to be coming back to visit with her again… She gets up
early on December twenty-sixth every year, then just sits there
waiting for the entire day.”

“That would explain why she wasn’t surprised
to see me this morning,” Constance mused.

“Pretty much. But, you’re the first to
actually show up. Until now, every year she’s ended up heartbroken
because they don’t come back.”

“She takes it that hard?”

Again he answered with a quiet nod. Then he
said, “Not sure why about that either… Takes her awhile to get over
it too, and that doesn’t sit well with folks around here, as you’ve
discovered.”

“That’s a fact,” she agreed.

“Eventually, that memory fades and she
forgets it too. But something tells me she’ll remember you…” Skip
gave a thoughtful snort and then shook his head. “You know, I
wasn’t a hundred percent sure you’d show up over there today. But
like I said last night, I had you pegged as different, so I called
Martha and told her to keep an eye out. I admit, I was hoping I’d
read you right about that too… Glad to see I did.”

“You could have said something about it last
night. Were you testing me?”

“No,” he shrugged. “I think maybe I was
testing myself.”

“So do you think you passed?”

“You showed up, so I think maybe I did. I
guess we’ll find out,” he replied, then absently brushed at his
mustache. “How about you? Did visiting with Merrie answer any
lingering questions?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I don’t
really know that I expected it to. Like I said, I just wanted to
see for myself that she was okay. We ended up visiting for a while.
I even got a fresh manicure.” She held out her hands to display her
nails.

“Sounds like Merrie…” Skip replied.

Constance gazed thoughtfully at her nails and
then looked back up to the sheriff’s face. “But, even without
answers, it made me feel good just to see her. Does that sound odd,
Skip?”

Carmichael shook his head. “Nope. Not odd at
all. I know you’re a part of her life now, and from what you just
said I think maybe she’s become a part of yours too. I realize it
sounds sappy, but you’ve been touched by the spirit,
Constance.”

“The spirit of Christmas?”

He shrugged. “Of Christmas… Of Merrie… It’s
all the same to us around here.”

“You know, I think maybe I understand exactly
what you mean.”

He regarded her carefully and then smiled.
“Yeah, I think maybe you do. You’re good people, Constance.”

“Thanks. You are too, Skip.”

“Ya’know, I’ve never said this to any of you
Feds before, but then, none of the others ever gave me a chance…”
He paused and once again combed his fingers through the brush on
his lip for a second. “Do me a favor, Constance: don’t let ‘em send
anyone else to Hulis on this case.”

She sighed. “I’m not sure I can stop
them.”

“Maybe you can. I guess it all depends on
what you put in that report of yours.”

“Something tells me it won’t make any
difference.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But
sending an endless parade of Feds up here isn’t going to bring
Merrie any peace. That’s what she really needs. Once that happens,
maybe she can move on… Hell, maybe Rebecca and Hulis can too.”

“Maybe so…” Constance smiled, then gave him a
nod. “I’ll promise you this much, Skip: I’ll come back. You can
count on it. If the bureau wants to send someone anyway, I’ll make
sure it’s me.”

“You know I’ll hold you to that.”

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry. I think I have some
pull that the other agents don’t.”

“Do tell…”

“I would if I could.”

“Well, I tell myself this every year,” he
grunted. “Guess I’ll tell you too… Let’s hope next Christmas you’re
just here to visit and have a cup of egg nog.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m sure Merrie would too.”

C
HAPTER
32

12:24 P.M. – December 26, 2010

College Gas ‘n Go

BR 61 South – Canton, Missouri

CONSTANCE
tore a fresh paper towel
from the dispenser and dried her hands. This was the second gas
station she had visited in the past ten minutes. At the first stop,
she had walked into the unisex facilities and then immediately
turned and walked back out. If she was going to die prematurely,
she had already decided that it wasn’t going to be courtesy of a
toilet seat that hadn’t been cleaned since before she was born.

Her heels clicked sharply on the tile as she
stepped over to the door, then used the damp paper towel to grasp
the handle and pull it open. Hooking her foot in front of the door
she wadded up the towel and tossed it into the trashcan, actually
landing it dead center in the receptacle—unlike some of the other
women who had visited recently. Using her elbow she shoved the door
the rest of the way open and exited. It’s not that she was
germaphobic by any stretch, but she was sure that even this
restroom needed a date with some bleach and elbow grease.