I lunged forward, eyes in the peephole. There was no one there. I looked downward. There was a box—another gift box. I opened the door, slid it inside and quickly shut it.
CLUE #9was scrawled on top of it.
I snatched it up and ran back to where I was sitting, cradling it in my arms. It was wrapped in the exact same way as the others.
I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t think. My hands were shaking as I ripped the wrapping paper and pried the lid open. Inside, nestled in the center of the box, was a dollhouse. A tiny replica of a house, down to the minute details.
I found that to be so odd, but I knew it meant something.
Beside it was a small, delicate doll dressed in a Christmas outfit. A figure very familiar to me.
A chill crept down my spine as I reached for the red envelope inside the box. I tore it open and read the letter.
CLUE #9: “I work through the night, because the world is not right. You must do the same; remember, there’s no shame. You’ve done it once; now do it twice. Kill the name that rhymes with Sam; let’s have a dinner with some Ham.”
My stomach twisted at the thought. The written words felt like a noose tightening around my neck. I couldn’t do it again. I was already going mad enough.
I can’t kill someone else, I just can’t…but Angela. I have to think of Angela. Oh god…what have I done to myself? What have I doneto deserve this torture?
I knew exactly who they meant, and I had to do it. I had to obey, or else Angela would die.
I had to kill the mayor.
CHAPTER 18
DECEMBER 18TH
It kept me up all night, the moral dilemma of it all. I had no real justification for murdering George. Only that I was ordered to by a madman who had my wife. Someone seemed to be playing a long game of revenge.
I was outside—standing in front of the spot where I buried Joseph. Something truly took over me in that moment—a sudden darkness that moved my body, causing me to do an irreversible act of evil. I told myself that I had to do it, for Angela’s sake. I had to play the game of the Xmas Day Butcher.
I crumpled the letter in my hand, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. I walked back home, snow falling all around me. I thought about the dollhouse and what it could mean. I used to play with a certain type of doll, and so did my brother. It had comforted us throughout our tragic upbringing.
We had them in Mercy’s Light, but we always had to hide them from Mildred. She hated them—that cruel witch hated everything. I wondered…there was an older kid who lived with us. He hated our dolls as well. I forgot his name, but not his face. He had a scrunched-up face with dark eyes that looked like buttons and a mop of dark hair that rested over his forehead.
He didn’t quite look like Colton Kilhouser, but people changed as they got older. I wondered where that older kid went after we left. Perhaps this Xmas Day Butcher was closer to me than I originally thought—maybe there was a grand reason for all of this murder and death. I just wanted it to end.
I tried to push the memory of what I had done to George and Joseph from my mind. The guilt was suffocating—absolutely unbearable. I needed to forget. I needed to move on. I couldn’t imagine doing the same to Mayor Hamonte.
I thought about what to do next as I made it back home. I felt an overwhelming sense of exhaustion weighing me down, and I couldn’t entirely trust my mental faculties anymore. As much as I didn’t want to call for Detective Castillo’s help, she seemed to be the only option.
As I kept mulling it over, I tried to tidy up as best I could. I swept up the broken pieces of glass and ornaments. I threw the Christmas tree over the cracked center table so it’d seem like it fell over. I picked up a few other things and tried to make the place seem semi-normal.
I planned on using the excuse of severe mental deterioration because of what was happening to me and the town. Most of it was true; I was just leaving out the part about getting into a fight with Joseph and killing him like a raging lunatic.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Castillo’s number. The line clicked, rang a few times, then picked up.
“Lenny? How are you? How can I help?” her voice was tired andstrained. I was sure that she had her hands busy with the escapee from the Gibraltar Institute, whom I believed to be Colton Kilhouser, somehow still alive.
“I need you. Please,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Can you come to my house? It’s important.”
There was a long pause. “It’s been insane, Lenny…with everything going on…I’ll come by briefly. This town is going to hell.”
“Thank you.” I hung up, the weight of the decision already bearing down on me. I knew I shouldn’t have been asking a damn detective for help. I knew there was a chance I’d incriminate myself. I just had to try my best to keep it calm and collected.
When Castillo arrived, she barely gave me a second look. She was all business, her gaze sharp as she entered the living room and scanned all around. My heartbeat was rapid as I tried to control my breathing.
“You don’t need to worry about the escapee. Everything’s under control,” Castillo said sternly, but there was something in her voice that didn’t sound entirely reassuring. “We’ve got most of our officers patrolling the outskirts of Whisper’s Creek—on high alert. Mayor Hamonte gave the order himself. After what happened to Doctor Tuttle, he’s not taking any chances. We have to find this person.”
