“Okay,” she said, arms crossed, her cold, dark eyes staring me down. “Why do you think you’re receiving these gifts? What’s going on here? Why is someone named the Xmas Day Butcher targeting you? Why would they abduct Angela?”
“I—I don’t know. This is the second gift I’ve received.” My voice sounded nervous and panicky, even as I was trying to stay calm. “I swear, I have no idea who would send it. I don’t know what this is about. This is insane.”
“Really?” she tilted her head. “Because that letter implies that you’ve done something. Is this some kind of game?”
I swallowed hard. The ominous saying flashed in my mind: “Remember what you’ve done. There’s nowhere for youto run.”
But I haven’t done anything. Have I? No, I’d never do anything to hurt anyone. Right?
“Detective…I’m just not sure. I don’t know what I’ve supposedly done.”
Detective Castillo looked at me suspiciously—then her eyes scanned around my house; her expression softened slightly. “I researched your past, Lenny and I know Angela, she’s a good woman.” she said softly. “I’ll get some patrols to search the area again, though…” she sighed, glancing toward the frosted window. “In this shitty weather, I doubt anyone would get far. But she’s in danger and so are you—no doubt about that. We’ll have to do our best.”
“Thank you, detective. I appreciate it,” I whispered.
She nodded slowly. “For your sake, I hope we find her and that this isn’t another case that ends up like poor Clara.”
I lowered my hands and clasped them together. “Do you think…” my mind was in deep thought, my forehead creased with lines of worry. “… Angela’s abduction is related to Clara’s disappearance?” I asked.
Her cold gaze lingered on me. “Oh, Clara St. Nicklaus,” she sighed. “She went missing around Christmas last year—vanished without a trace, like Angela. I hope it’s not the same, Lenny,” she said gravely.
I hoped that Angela’s disappearance was not connected to Clara’s. I remembered the flyers with her innocent face, the candlelight vigil, and the way people in Whisper’s Creek started to move a little more quickly at night during the months that followed. It had been such a tragic, harrowing event. After weeks of trying to find her, all hope had beenlost.
Rumors swirled around town that she had been murdered. Some believed it was the boyfriend—Henry. Others believed it was someone more sinister—a serial killer that left behind a mark relating to dolls. But the latter didn’t fit the MO.
As the memory of Clara’s tragedy faded, so did the cautions people took to ensure they wouldn’t be next. That would all change now that Angela was gone, taken by a truly deranged monster.
The difference between them is that there wasn’t a Xmas Day Butcher playing a sinister game with Clara; there was only one involving Angela…and me.
Whisper’s Creek was a place of nightmares, a breeding ground for evil incarnate to suck people into darkness, never to be seen again. There was no help in this cursed town, only a deathly silence to questions that’d never be answered.
If Whisper’s Creek were a person, it would be cruel, blind, and deaf—no heart, no mercy, and no justice existed here.
Castillo shifted closer to me, snapping me out of my frenzied, inner trance. She asked me something while lowering her voice. “Lenny, be careful. If this is acopycat killer, you need to stay safe.”
“Okay, I’ll try my best. I can’t believe that…” I shuddered. “…after 20 years, the Xmas Day Butcher might be back. I thought he was dead.”
Her focused eyes held my panicked stare, studying my worried face. “So did I.”
She took a deep breath and straightened her back. “Okay, I need to get back to the station. If we get any tips, I’ll let you know immediately.”
I nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.”
When she left, the dreadful silence in my house felt loud and heavy around me. I remembered the image of the blood-streaked ornament in the gift box. It seemed to glisten faintly, taunting me—torturing my soul.
I tried to think about what I should do, but the harder I searched my memories for an answer, for a response I could give to this Xmas Day Butcher, the more they evaporated into blackness. My mind didn’t want to go to that dark place, the one from my childhood. I had trained it for so many years to block everything out—all the pain, all the blood…all the death.
I never felt like I had settled in my life, I always bounced from place to place with my brother, Lincoln. From the orphanage, Mercy’s Light, to being adopted by Peter and Maria Frost, then moving in with Corita, a sweet Spanish lady afterwards.
All I saw were nightmarish flashes: evil cackles from an old woman, a child screaming, blood splattering the white walls, a pointed yellow star as sharp as a blade, a decorated Christmas tree toppled over…
I always told myself it hadn’t happened and that it had been a very bad dream. That’s how I coped with it, andthat’s how I tricked myself into believing I was never there that fateful Christmas night, so many years ago, and now I had a hard time discerning reality from fiction.
I needed some air, even if it was cold as ice outside. I was losing my damn mind in that quiet, empty house. Only the occasional howling winds were keeping me company, reminding me that the world was still spinning—even with Angela gone.
I went to my bedroom and put on some proper winter attire—a red and green sweater with Christmas lights, a beanie that was labeled:Sexy Santaand my gingerbread man-themed snow boots that fit snugly around my feet.
Angela had bought the fun attire for me for Christmas—it was only fitting that I put it on, for her, to keep her spirit alive.
