There was a red Santa hat, dirty and stained. A pointed yellow star, the kind that crowned a Christmas tree, its edges smeared with dried blood.
There was a red envelope; I knew the drill. I tore it open and read another obscure riddle:
CLUE #8:“Learn of my deadly task; he only needed to ask.”
There was more tucked underneath, inside the box. There was an official sheet with theGibraltar Instituteletterhead. It was a cleanly typed document, and it looked very official. Doctor Thomas T. Tuttle’s name was stamped at the bottom—alongside a square-shaped photo of his bowl-shaped bald head and his lean, bearded face with hollow eyes.
He looked like a doctor who fit the bill of being cuckoo.
The document read like a case study and a confession. It spoke of a patient: Colton Kilhouser. In summary, Doctor Tuttle was developing the genetic profile of serial killers because he wanted to know why killers became killers.
There was also evidence that he wanted to have a serial killer essentially do his bidding—for “experimentation purposes” and “scientific discovery.”
He stated that he understood the controversies surrounding his secretive research, but that he planned to defy outspoken critics and professionals in similar medical fields of research. He wanted to “silence” them. The rest of the document was littered with redactions.
From what I could tell, no one knew what Doctor Tuttle was doing in the Gibraltar Institute—except for a few key individuals…such as Mayor Hamonte.
He chose Colton because of how he killed Peter, Maria and Lincoln Frost.
A chill ran down my spine. My brother, Lincoln. The very mention of his name made me convulse, bile rising through my stomach. Lincoln had been a constant in my life—we had gone through the wringer together. I wished we had both made it that day. Sometimes…I wished I had died with him.
We felt destined to stay connected, through all the tragedy, all the hardship…he should’ve been alive. It angered me for a very long time. I closed myself off, my heart turning into ice—until Angela came along. She was the light that cracked through the stone-like man I had become.
The wording on the document was so sterile, so analytically cold, and disturbing. This doctor was a monster, and why he had been doing this type of research at a mental wellness institute was absolutely beyond me.
It must’ve been the corruption and collusion that Mayor Hamonte and Doctor Tuttle were involved in. That must’ve been why Angela couldn’t get funding for the restoration project. I reached into my pocket and pulled out Angela’s letter to theEthics Commission, much to my relief. I had kept it.
Some of the pieces were beginning to connect—this is what the Xmas Day Butcher wanted. I was starting to believe that Colton Kilhouser had been alive all along.
There was another document stapled to the one I was reading. It was a note that Doctor Tuttle had addressed to Colton.“25 Days. 12 gifts. Kill your target, my son. Merry Christmas.”
The idea that Doctor Tuttle had used Colton as a living, human experiment was deeply troubling and deplorable. He had ordered him to kill a target, perhaps me?But Doctor Tuttle was dead—probably at the hands of Colton, who was somehow still alive.
My mind raced with endless possibilities. They could’ve faked Colton’s death. But why? For Doctor Tuttle to use him like a lab rat?
Also what did Doctor Tuttle mean by 25 days and 12 gifts?
I rubbed my temples, my head hurting from all the insanity I was having to mull over. I still didn’t understand why Colton had abducted Angela and why he was toying with me. If he was ordered to kill me, why didn’t he go through with it?
Why was he making it long and painful? It felt deeply personal. He must’ve had a vendetta against me. Something that had been planned for a very long time.
Perhaps Colton blamed me for everything he suffered through. Who knew what Doctor Tuttle had done to him and for how long?
I folded the document and shoved it back inside the box. I set it down on the floor. As soon as I got up, I felt a vibration in my pocket; when I slid out my phone, it was like she’d been listening to me.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about her at the moment. I didn’t want to trust her, but there wasn’t anyone elsetotrust. I was on my own.I decided that I’d only tell her about pieces of evidence that I felt she’d be able to help me with.
“Hello, Detective.”
She spoke quickly and urgently, not wasting any time. “Someone has escaped the Gibraltar Institute. They are considered armed and extremely dangerous. This might be the Xmas Day Butcher we’ve been searching for. Lock your doors, stay inside, and don’t open for anyone. Stay safe, Lenny.” As soon as she hung up, I sprang off my couch and did as she instructed.
I was now certain that Colton Kilhouser was the escapee and that he had killed Doctor Tuttle.
That must’ve been the incident at the institute that occurred on December 1st. This all felt carefully planned.
CHAPTER 16
DECEMBER 16TH
