I came back to the present, now standing in her silent office, her words sounding ominous in my head.
I walked forward and brushed my fingers across her desk. The dust-covered wood was as cold as ice. Memories rushed in—her warm laugh, her sparkly eyes, and the soft hum of her favorite Christmas songs under her breath.
Then I saw it—directly behind her desk. A small, metal safe with a numeric passcode. I went around and examined it. I felt it all around before inputting the code I figured she’d use:0905. That was her birthday.
It clicked open. I pulled on the tiny latch and searched what was inside. There was only a single white envelope. I picked it up and slipped out a note that was inside; it hadn’t been sealed yet.
It was a letter that had been addressed to theEthics Commission. It was Angela’s handwriting—neat and strongly worded. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. She was accusing Mayor Hamonte of siphoning public funds—diverting money into his own salary and into the Gibraltar Institute. She found it suspicious that he hadn’t been able to allocate funds for a restoration project that she wanted to implement for the town.
My eyes saw the date:December 1st.
That was the day she vanished. My mouth went dry. I whispered to no one, “What could this mean? Could Mayor Hamonte be behind her disappearance to silence her?”
Before I could think about it further, an ear-splitting scream shattered the calm outside. It was sharp and guttural, tearing through the winds like a knife.
I stumbled to the window and looked down at the town square. For a second, I couldn’t process what I was seeing. I thought my eyes were deceiving me.
But there it was, swaying in the wind, tangled in a mess of Christmas lights—a body…with no head. Just a dark shape hanging from the streetlamp, as some folks gathered around to take photos, while others ran for their lives—screaming.
My stomach felt nauseous as I started to lose sensation in my legs. My eyelids became heavy as I felt myself slowly falling to the ground—the world turning pitch black.
CHAPTER 15
DECEMBER 15TH
People ran in every direction. Mrs. Bloomfield from the bakery stood frozen in her doorway, flour still on her apron, eyes huge as she clutched a rolling pin to her chest. Two teenagers stared at it in disbelief, wondering if it was “cool” or absolutely horrifying. A mob of mothers scurried away, screaming, holding on to their children.
I stood in front of it, darkness all around me, studying it. I was surely in a dream, but I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t speak. It was like someone else was controlling my body.
The headless body was wearing a doctor’s white coat and was missing an arm and a leg.
It was a grotesque depiction of violence. A hanging corpse, wrapped in Christmas lights, with no head, while snow had already begun to crust all over it.
Mayor Hamonte came running out of the Town Hall building, his polished shoes almost slipping on the ice that had formed on the staircase of the building, his breath fogging in short, shallow bursts.
He stood beside me, freaking out.
“Thomas?” his voice was in complete disbelief. “Jesus Christ! Is that Thomas?! This is why he hasn’t been answering my messages…”
The name was immediately familiar. I’d heard George say it, Doctor Thomas T. Tuttle; he belonged to theGibraltar Institute. For whatever reason, he was dead, and his head had been chopped off. Undoubtedly the work of the Xmas Day Butcher.
I heard police sirens looming as blue and red strobes painted the falling snow. Across the plaza, Castillo’s cruiser slid to a stop in the parking lot.
She leapt out, hair whipping around her face, and barked orders at the chaotic crowd. “Clear the area! Get inside now!” She efficiently cut through the mass of panicked people to get to us.
Suddenly, I felt a gift box at my feet as orders were shouted at me. “Lenny, get out of here now! It’s not safe! Go home now!”
The noise was drowned out as I spottedCLUE #8scrawled on top of the gift box in those jagged letters that were so familiar to me. When I crouched down to grab it—a high-pitched scream ripped through my eardrums, yanking me out of the nightmare.
I gasped awake on my couch, the gift box cradled in my lap. I looked around my house to make sure I wasn’t dreaming again. As far as I could tell, everything looked normal.
I had blacked out again, and I tried to remember what had happened. First, I checked my watch; it wasDecember 15th.I had been taken to Mayor Hamonte’s office…I then searched through Angela’s office before seeing a headless body in the town square and blacking out.
I believed I had regained consciousness because I had been outside with the mayor and Detective Castillo. She had urged me to go home, and that was how I ended up running back home and finding yet another gift box on my front door.
I must’ve passed out from sheer exhaustion on the couch. I just wasn’t getting enough sleep. George, Clara, Angela, the Xmas Day Butcher…all of these people were revolving in my mind—refusing to leave. It was taking a toll. I didn’t know how much longer I could take it—my sanity was being sucked out of me, day by day, hour by hour…I wanted it to end.
I took a deep breath and ripped open the gift box—tearing off the lid with a renewed sense of anger and frustration at what was happening to me.
