It was a silly prank—just some dumb, silly prank.
When I got to the door and pulled it open, a blast of frigid air slapped my groggy face. To my surprise, it was Detective Juana Castillo who stood on the porch, her short, dark bob cut of hair littered with particles of snow. She was a strong,fit woman with the tattoo of a black spiral on her collarbone. I always wondered what that was about. Perhaps something to do with a cycle?
I liked to say she was as tough as hardwood itself. She was as strict and rigid as the ice that formed on the roof of my house.
She looked at me coldly, not saying a word, but in her gloved hands was a small gift box, sealed with Christmas-themed tape. Scrawled across the lid in red marker:CLUE #2.
My goodness, another damn box.
“Hey, Lenny. This was at your front door,” she said stiffly, her voice low and serious. “I didn’t see the person who left it.”
I took it from her hands gently and stared at it, terrified at what could’ve been hidden inside.
My fingers trembled as I tore the tape to open it. “I think we both know who left it.” Inside, cushioned by crumpled packing paper, was a single ornament—a delicate, white Christmas ball streaked with dried blood.
I looked at her, she met my steady gaze. “You can open it. We’ll lift any printswe find off the first letter and the reindeer earrings. I’m sure you’ll keep getting these.”
Beneath the packing paper, was a red envelope. I ripped it open with my finger. Inside was another white letter. I carefully slid it out, my breath frosting over in the cold as I hesitated to read what it said.
“Remember what you’ve done. There’s nowhere for you to run.”
CHAPTER 3
DECEMBER 3RD
Before I could say much of anything to her, Detective Castillo had been called back to the police station because of an emergency—some road blockage caused by slippery, snow-covered streets that turned things really ugly near the roads that led out of town. That was the curse of Whisper’s Creek at work. That’s what I believed anyway.
I had brought in the second gift box with me, wondering what it all meant, my mind spinning in a million different directions.
“Remember what you’ve done. There’s nowhere for you to run.”
What had I done? I didn’t understand what the Xmas Day Butcher was trying to spell out to me—it didn’t make any sense. I sat down in my white lounge chair, a drink in hand. I started downing it, not having a care in the world about what happened to me.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice: “Don’t call them, Lenny. Don’t call them!”
My mind started to go blank. Seconds turned to minutes, and minutes turned to hours as I slowly shut my eyes, longing for my wife’s return, hoping she was alright—wherever she was.
A streak of sunlight washed over my closed eyelids causing me to pounce awake. I quickly checked my watch:December 3rd. Iswallowed down the dryness in my sore throat and reached down for a water bottle that wasn’t there—it was the bottle I had finished the day before. I didn’t even remember passing out.
I didn’t think Detective Castillo had returned because I didn’t hear any knocking, nor did I hear my phone going off—that would’ve been George’s incessant calling. He hated being ignored.
That’s how my grief had begun to manifest—like a slow, seeping poison that infected my veins, my heart…and everything else that pulsated in my body. Not having Angela near me, safe with me…was taking its toll. I hadn’t told the police yet because I didn’t trust them, not the skeleton crew in Whisper’s Creek anyway.
There was always something about them not having enough resources to doanythingin the damn town; that’s why Angela was trying to fix things any way she could. She was a good, kind soul that deserved all she wanted in the world—even if it refused to give it to her.
The police never even found George’s daughter, Clara. She’d been missing since last year. Eventually, I knew that I’d have to rise up, out of my despair and hopelessness, to find Angela before it was too late.
The tragic event of her abduction had ignited something terrible in me, a feeling that I couldn’t do anything to save anyone because of what had happened to me when I was a child. I had to push through it for Angela.
As if on cue, there was a hard knocking at the door. I quickly jumped up and rushed to open it. Detective Castillo was there, standing like a statue of ice.
“Sorry for leaving so abruptly—the emergency persists near the institute. May I come in?” I nodded and stepped aside.
Detective Castillo entered and shut the door behind her with a heavy thud that made the windows shake. She stood inside my living room, her black boots dripping melted snow onto the rug that had a Christmas tree design on it.
If Angela were here, she’d be very upset about stains on the rug.
The gift box withCLUE #2rested on a coffee table near the front door, like evidence of a murder.
