Authors: Cheri Lewis
Suddenly my coffee doesn’t taste so good anymore. I set the cup on the nightstand, fall back and groan. “Seriously, I have to tell my parents? Can’t we wait to tell them?”
He stares at me a moment and says, “Don’t you think they’ll question you moving in with me?”
My heart drops and I swallow a huge lump. “I don’t understand
why
my parents have to know
anything
.”
“What if he shows up at your parent's house? Don’t you think they should be warned to know to be on the lookout for something odd?”
I shoot back up quickly. “What?”
Show up to my parent’s house? Why had that not ever occurred to me?
“Would—do you think he would hurt them?”
He sits beside me and pats my leg under the covers. “We're in uncharted waters McKinsey. At this point the police are normally at a crime scene working the timeline backwards putting the pieces together. That’s why we know we’re going to catch him. He has to play a new game.”
“Would you quit saying stuff like that? The whole playing a game with me. Just hearing it makes me more upset. Fine. Yes, I’ll tell my parents and of course Jessie will know. I’ll call him in a few minutes and tell him to come here instead of my house.”
I can’t help but smile at the expression on his face when he realizes his guest plus one is a guest plus two.
Oh, who am I kidding? He has no clue it’s about to be a guest plus four, my parents are going to flip.
****
When I walk out the front door of Tank’s office, I smile and almost laugh when I think about greeting the man dropping off my car,
“Thanks Officer Cootie”,
but I decide against it.
“Thanks for dropping my car off for me.”
He bows and holds out his hand with my keys. Then with a playful tone says, “My pleasure my kind lady. We got you all fixed up.”
I can’t help but smile at his over the top silly gesture. Cootie was cute in a fluffy teddy bear way but he also has a charming sense about him. I remember how kind he was to me at the police station that first night. I didn’t feel like he dismissed me like the other officer did, when he walked out of the room to refill his coffee mug.
I take my keys from him and thank him again. When he stands upright he waves. “It’s no big deal, all in a fun day’s work.” I walk past him and continue to my car. “Hey McKinsey?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re safe now,” he states sincerely.
I hope so
. I don’t voice my concern to him. I just nod then get into my car and drive into work. I begin worrying myself sick. Every time I see someone my mind constantly analyzes them. Perhaps they are the killer. When the Xerox repair man came in carrying the replacement toner for the machine and the thought crosses my mind he’s going to whack me over the head with and and that’s when I realize I have to stop.
I have a lot of trained people helping me. The police are involved now, and I’m going to be okay.
I send a text to my mother asking her if it is okay for me to come over tonight and of course it is. She says she would make dinner. My stomach has been in knots and I’ve been trying to snack all day. A few grapes, a granola bar. I’m not really hungry even though I know I need to eat. When I think of eating anything just the thought makes my mouth salivate like I’m going to throw up. I force myself into my work and even though fatigue sets in, I pull through and do my job.
When I walk out of the back door at work, I look around. I only see employee cars and tall shrubs blocking my view of the adjoining parking lots.
No psychopath waiting to kill me, thank God
. I pull my cell phone out of my purse to call Jessie about coming to Tank's instead of my house when I realize I don’t see anybody watching me like they promised. I walk to the corner of the building and peek around. Nothing looks out of place. I turn around and walk back toward my car, then curiosity gets the best of me and I walk to look around the other corner. I jump when my phone buzzes in my hand. My text message icon is lit up so I touch it and Tank has sent me a text, “Hey super sleuth, what are you doing? Get in your car and let’s go.”
I whip around and quickly glance all around me, when I don’t see anything I text back, “Where are you?”
I’m looking down at my phone waiting for a reply and I look up when I hear my boss, “Ms. Morrow, is everything alright?”
“Uh, yeah it’s fine, I dropped something and it blew across the parking lot.”
He nods slowly and I know my excuse is thin considering there isn’t any wind. I look back down at my phone at the text that had just come through. “Tell Greg I said he’s gotten old and he needs to lay off the donuts.”
I make a face and put my hand that’s holding the phone on my hip, and then I use my other hand and point to my eyes and roll them slowly, hoping whereever he is, he sees that. The only problem is, I don’t know if Tank sees it, but Mr. Samford does.
Great, just great
. I lower my head and walk as fast as possible to my car. As he drives by I glance up and wave not wanting to be rude. It’s obvious by the look on his face he’s thinking about my sanity at the moment. I hit the button and call Tank, “I look like a complete lunatic to my boss now thanks to you. Where are you anyway for you to be able to see me and me not see you?”
“Meet me back at my place and we’ll drive over together to your parents.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question and I’m closer to my parent's house from here. Can’t you just meet me there?”
He huffs, “Yeah I’ll be there in twenty.”
*****
“Are you pregnant?” This is a question that most mothers would ask and then be disappointed in their daughters for getting knocked up before marriage, but I swear my mother’s eyes glisten with hope.
“Seriously? Momma, No! I’m not pregnant! There really is a crazy person messing with me I swear.” I looked at my father for help as he sat at the table across from me. “Daddy you believe me right?”
“Doodlebug, you have to give me a minute to process this.”
My mother stands from the table and paces a few times then says, “Kinsey, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings but if you remember you did used to embellish your stories quite a bit when you were younger.”
“Mom, I was
twelve
.”
“What about that time your father and I had to pick you and Jessie up from Birmingham?” she quickly reminds me.
I sag further down in my chair and lay my head on the table. “Maybe you’ll believe Tank.”
“And that’s another thing honey. What kind of reputable man in business allows himself to be called Tank?”
I don’t bother answering her as I continue to glare at the table top that’s inches from my nose. The doorbell rings and I feel the table jiggle as one of my parents stands to answer the door. I sit up and my mother is staring at me while her fingers nervously play with her coffee cup. My dad enters the dining room first with a pensive look on his face, followed by Tank who has an even less encouraging look. “You’re late,” I growl.
As he sits in the chair next to me he says, “I know, sorry, but we had something come up that needed immediate attention.”
I stare at him, “What?”
He directs a gentle smile at my parents, never looking in my direction. “I don’t have all the details yet, I’ll tell you as soon as I do.”
I grab his arm and tug. “No you’ll tell me what you know now,” I plead.
He huffs and he finally looks at me. “Can’t you trust me, just for a minute, please? Let’s talk to your parents and then we can discuss it.”
“It’s not you he’s after,” I mumble.
I look up at my mother who makes a sound and now has a look of shock all over her face, when she says, “Wait, so you’re telling me that this isn’t a joke, some prank?”
“No, ma’am. It’s very real.” Tank says looking between both my parents.
“What exactly held you up from coming over here with McKinsey?” my father quietly asks.
Tank shakes his head and says, “McKinsey got a delivery today at her house. We got the kid who delivered it and we’re back tracking from there.”
“What was delivered?”
“Cookies—”
“Cookies?” All three of us ask at the same time.
“Yes, cookies.”
“Are you sure they were from him?” I watch as he eyes my parents then looks back at me, “Well we can’t keep it a secret now, tell us.”
“It was a gingerbread cookie decorated with blonde hair—”
I cut him off and ask, “You think he was trying to poison me?”
He shakes his head, “We don’t think so, although we are sending it off to be tested. There was also a wolf’s head in the box as well.”
“A wolf’s head?” I gasp.
My father asks, “Was that a cookie too?”
“No, that had been chopped off the top of a stuffed animal.” Tank pulls his phone from his pocket and slides his finger across his phone several times and then places the phone in front of me on the table. I stare down at the picture and swallow hard. The cookie was decorated with a lot of detail, jeans and a t-shirt with hair pulled up into a ponytail, something I’d normally wear and the wolf’s head has its mouth open baring its teeth like it was about to eat me. Seeing the stuffing coming out of the bottom of the decimated stuffed toy was almost too much. I push the phone toward my mother who’s sitting across from Tank.
I glance at my dad who’s now red in the face, the hand he has on the table is now clenched in a fist. I’ve only seen my dad upset a few times in my life and yes, when Jessie and I went on a joyride to Birmingham was one of them. But this is a different level of angry; I can see the vein in his forehead popping out. My mother passes the phone to my father who takes it from her. He studies it for a long time before he finally speaks in an uneven tone, “It’s not a wolf’s head, it’s a fox.” I look at him completely confused. He hands the phone back to Tank.
Tank picks his phone up and studies the picture, “How do you know?”
My dad closes his eyes and takes a deep breath then releases it as he says, “Run, run, as fast as you can; you can’t catch me I’m the gingerbread man.” He leans in toward the table and begins rubbing his forehead with his hand that was a clenched fist. My mother is sitting speechless for the first time in her life with her mouth wide open. Tank begins doing something on his phone and I’m not completely convinced that my dad is right. Actually I’m praying my dad isn’t right.
“Wouldn’t I, or we, be the fox that’s chasing him then? The gingerbread man has blonde hair.”
My daddy shakes his head. “It’s an old children’s fable McKinsey, Mother Goose stuff. The gingerbread man runs faster than several things in the story but in the end the fox tricks him and eats him.”
Fear courses through my veins and an overwhelming need to get out of the room overtakes me. I jump up and run to my old bedroom. I slam the door and fall onto my bed. My heart races and I begin to panic as I think back over my father’s words.
How screwed up is that, run as fast as you can.
The door to my room opens and I roll over to see my mother walking in, I sit up and she comes to me, we both grab each other at the same time. I’m pressed against her stomach and she begins to rub my head over my hair. “McKinsey, I’m so sorry for not believing you.”
I shake my head. “I don’t care, Momma. If I was in your place I might not believe me either.”
She begins to move and I latch on tighter. “Please don’t move Momma, give me just a minute.”
“Sure,” she says softly as she continues to rub my hair. “Your friend Tank is out there talking with your father about the plans. I’m going to—”
I interrupt her, “Momma, I know I’m going to sound really stupid right now, but can we just not talk about it. I’m so sick of thinking about it.” I lift my head up and look up at her. “I just left my house last night. This means he knows. He knows where I am, what I’m doing. He knows everything. Momma, I don’t want to die.”
She grabs my face in between her hands and wipes my tears with her thumbs. “Baby, you aren’t going to die.”
I whisper to her, “I want him to leave me alone.”
I see tears hit her eyes as she lets go of my face. She sits beside me and wraps her arm around me, hugging me to her. A light knock sounds at my already opened door which makes us both look up at Tank who’s standing in the doorway. “Your dad said he needed to go work on the lawnmower.”
His tone of confusion makes me half laugh through my tears. I look at my mother. “Go check on Daddy, please. I’m alright I promise. I just have my freak out moments.”
She nods, hugs me tightly one more time, and then quietly leaves the room. I slide back on my bed and sit Indian style while Tank looks around my room. He stops and looks at all the pictures I have on my large decorated cork board of Jessie and myself over the years. “How long have you been friends?” he asks.
“Since kindergarten.” He doesn’t respond, he turns around and bites the inside of his bottom lip a second, so I ask, “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”