The Sacrificial Daughter (19 page)

"Even the police can't watch someone around the clock for two years," Jesse answered back. "It's not possible. They probably got a call somewhere else and..."

All four of the girls were wearing the same—
Sorry but you're wrong
—expression and each was shaking their heads at her. Emily piped up in her little voice, "He only...ya know...does
it
right around the Christmas break. That's why they call him..." She dug in her bag like mad, found a pen and paper, and wrote,
The Christmas Killer
.

Her handwriting was beautiful almost like calligraphy; the words were not.

"And there's more," Allison said, nudging Emily in the ribs. Emily steadfastly refused to write or say whatever it was that the blonde wanted her to. She went even so far as to throw her pen away. None of the girls would write it, either. Allison steamed at this rebellion to her leadership, yet she lacked the guts as well and left Jesse clueless what was so important. The girls then began a secret/silent conversation between themselves as only friends who had grown up together could do. They would raise eyebrows, tilt their heads suggestively, jut their chins, or purse their lips. All of which Jesse followed as if it were Greek.

Eventually, she turned to the window to consider what had been said and what hadn't. Her voice of reason stated with confidence that it was all a myth. The rest of her however, had seen the goose bumps, had watched the girls turn pale, and knew in her heart that something wasn't right about this. She was just mulling over the entire conversation a second time when something on the other side of the window snagged her eye.

Outside the library a familiar face stood under a street light. It was Ky. He was staring out into the forest in the direction of the berm. Jesse could see his breath in wispy clouds. They grew heavier and faster, puffing out of him as though he were hooked to a steam engine and then he began walking with deliberate strides toward the ponds.

"He's due," Allison stated clearly, breaking Jesse from her trance of watching the boy. All the girls nodded in agreement.

At first Jesse thought that they were talking about Ky, but then she realized they were talking about the killer. "He's due? When?"

What came out of Allison's mouth was almost lost on Jesse. She had positioned herself in the back corner and had a great view of this part of the library. Thirty-five feet away John Osterman, flanked by Ronny, Amanda and the blonde girl with the bad make-up came strutting into view.

"Saturday or Sunday at the latest," Allison was saying. Jesse heard, but only on a sub-conscious level. The rest of her mind was taken up with her advancing enemies. "So no matter what you do don't go out alone in the next few days. He has to...
you know…
do it."

Jesse nodded, but as she did, she slipped down even lower in her chair and just then John Osterman's eyes swept right across her. He was looking for a single girl in black, but he wouldn't be fooled for long. With a casual move, Jesse knocked the piece of paper with the words,
The Christmas Killer
off onto the floor. Almost simultaneously she ducked down to get it.

Her hands were shaking. The four of them wouldn't do anything in the library, but she knew if they found her they would definitely do something when the building closed. Jesse grabbed Emily's pants and literally pulled her under the table.

"Listen, I need a huge favor, please," Jesse asked with a voice that quavered in her throat. The little girl nodded with big eyes; she was nervous as well at this sudden odd behavior. "I need you to run to the front desk and yell out as if I was leaving. Say...
Bye
Jesse...really loudly. So we can hear it back here, Ok? Can you do that?" The girl nodded again. "Go, now. Run!"

Jesse helped Emily with a push from under the table. The other sixth graders were all very curious and asking questions. "No matter what don't look under here," Jesse commanded. "Pretend you're doing homework, or there's going to be trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Allison asked.

Jesse shushed her and then peeked her head around Allison's legs. She could see John Osterman moving slowly toward the back corner of the library. He seemed concerned as if he really expected to have seen Jesse by now. He was even checking corners where smooch-athons were taking place and under desks where nothing was taking place except for at Jesse's table. He was getting close.

"Bye Jesse," Emily's voice floated back. John Immediately perked up. "It was nice meeting you. You'll have to tell me where you got those cool boots. Bye."

Jesse sincerely hoped, for Emily's sake that she would stop right there. As the little girl was going on about the boots, Jesse could see Ronny tearing up the main aisle for the front door and knew that if Emily kept going it might not be pleasant for her. A second later, John abandoned his search as well, and as he did, Jesse scrambled out from beneath the table, grabbed her belongings and raced for the back door.

A braying alarm cried out immediately when Jesse banged open the back door of the library. At the sound of it a cringe lined her pretty face but she didn't slow down. To slow down meant more trouble than she was ready to handle just then. So she sprinted for all she was worth for the forest trail that led to the berm. There were two hopes in her heart: one- that Harold was on the other side of town and two- Ky was somewhere just ahead of her.

Ky was the first thing that she had looked for when she made her escape from the library. He was nowhere in sight, yet that didn't mean all that much. His lead on her couldn't have been more than thirty seconds and he never really seemed to hurry anywhere. Even as she was sprinting down the faded manicured lawn of the library, she knew that Ky could be on the berm just strolling along.

That was her hope at least.

But to fulfill her hope, she had to get under cover before Amanda and her friends figured out that it was she who had slipped out the back while they had been staring at a whole lot of nothing in the front. Seconds later, Jesse made it to the supposed safety of the dark forest, only it was at the expense of her ankle.

It had her grimacing with each step and every once in a while a sharp groan would escape her. Regardless she carried on down the hill and very soon she could see the two ponds stretching out farther than she could see in the dim light. The berm was visible to her as well and on it a lone figure was making his way across.

It was Ky...or at the very least it was not Harold Brownly, the Shadow-man. The person was far too small to be the killer.

As fast as she could, and it wasn't very fast because the trail was steep here, Jesse climbed down to the berm and began dragging herself across the wide-open space. Halfway across she felt herself flagging. It seemed like she had been under the strain of being chased for hours and there was very little left in her tank; nothing but fumes. Her feet began to weigh her down and her good leg was threatening to cramp up again.

Hope seeped from her as she realized that although she was limping along as fast as she could, and Ky was taking his time as always, she wasn't catching up to him.

This had her nerves frayed to the point of breaking and her breath came ragged in and out, not only because she was exhausted, but also because she just couldn't help it.

Jesse had assumed she would be able to catch up to Ky and now that she wasn't, her fear of being alone in the dark grew. And as she lurched along, she began searching the hills and forests ahead of her, seeking out the massive shadow that would denote Harold Brownly. He was in each one. Each and every one held a killer. Her eyes went wild, darting to each in turn, looking for any movement, and time and again she stumbled, not looking at the trail in front of her

By the time she crossed the berm, Jesse didn't know if she could go on. The forest trail on this side of the ponds was a half-mile long and surrounded by land that was very rugged and thickly wooded. The shadows here were beyond count. Within seconds tears came to her. She tried to stop them by reminding herself of her no tears rule, but that was just a joke. No power on earth could've stopped those tears...except the power that Harold Brownly possessed. Death would stop the tears. In fact, death would stop them cold, they would freeze in perfection right there on her dead face.

Off to her left a sound came to her of something snapping, like a man walking in the woods. If she'd had the strength, she would've run in a blind panic to who knows where, but she didn't. She didn't have any strength left at all and instead of running, her legs folded at the knees and very neatly, she knelt—waiting on her coming doom.

The sound on her left continued. At first, she thought it was coming right at her and she shivered in fright at whom it might be, but then she realized whoever was walking was going to miss her. The man was heading diagonally across her front. Like a slap, the realization of what the noise was had her reeling on her knees. It was Ky. Just then she remembered that the path swung out in a big loop. He was on the far side of the loop and was now heading to cross in front of her.

Jesse couldn't remember how far in front, but her best guess was that it was only a couple hundred yards or so. There was a chance that she could catch up to him...but only if she left the path. Of course this meant that there was also a chance that in the dark Jesse wouldn't be able to find the path again. And that she'd spend the rest of the night stumbling around in the woods until either hypothermia claimed her...or she found the Shadow-man.

"I can't do this," she whispered, to the night. "I'll get lost for certain." That seemed like a true statement. The woods around her were dense and in the dark there were no landmarks for her to orient on; everything looked the same.

You don't need landmarks, you moron,
her voice of reason said.
You have a beacon right in front of you. Just follow it.

Beacon? The moon was behind her and the only thing in front was her shadow, long and dark on the snow. Just then she realized that it stretched out perfectly in the direction that she needed to go. There was her beacon! Wasting no time, Jesse was up and following after her shadow with her head hung low like a bloodhound. She was dreadfully afraid of steering herself off course, so it was that she never looked up until she stumbled across the path a few minutes later.

Then she was happy in a ridiculous way. Her guts had been churning over the idea of missing the path and now that she was on it her relief was so great that she actually cried and laughed at the same time. It was hard to tell which was which. They both sort of mingled on her face and in her chest, making it tight.

However, the laughter dried up, while the tears continued. They slid down her cold cheeks ignored.

She had been waiting on Ky, staring down the path and at first she thought that he had managed to saunter his way past her as she had dogged her own shadow. Then she heard someone coming...only they were coming from the wrong direction! The sound was coming from her right, up the path toward her home, which didn't make any sense.

Had Ky gone up the path a little ways, turned around and come back down? If so why? Certainly not because she was following him. He was too determined to ignore her ever to allow her presence to change his course.

But then who...?

Sudden realization sent her staggering against a squat tree that stood hunched over the trail. What a fool she had been! She had been so afraid of stepping off the trail, so afraid that she would never find it again, when really she should have been afraid to ever set foot on it in the first place. The path that she was standing on not only led to her home, it led to the killer's home as well.

She had known this all along, but for one reason she had ignored it. The reason was Ky. He was a charm against the Shadow-man. Everyone in the town feared the killer, all but Ky. He went about alone where they traveled in packs. He strode the forests, while they kept to their cars. It made no sense. Even Mr. Mendel was afraid for him. He was always out searching for Ky...and where was Ky during those times?

A dread thought dawned on Jesse. Maybe Harold Brownly wasn't a killer after all. Maybe he couldn't walk through walls or overhear conversations from miles away. Maybe he just sat in his home while someone else walked about the town doing the killing. And if anyone could eavesdrop, it was Ky. No one saw him when he was around, no one paid attention, but that didn't mean Ky was oblivious. He heard everything.

Maybe Kyle Mendel was the killer. His disguise: a handsome, apple-cheek, all-American boy, was perfect—while Harold was practically an ogre. It wouldn't be the first time people were judged wrongly by appearances.

"Oh my God," Jesse whispered. She had been following after the killer all along. Just then she felt the first flakes of a fresh new panic settle over the dirty remains of the old. Panic was like the snow in Michigan. It never really went away until the sun had been hot on it for a long time.

If panic had any use in the evolutionary model Jesse didn't know what it was, but her panic just then seemed particularly useless. She froze in place, standing next to the tree. She didn't even have the sense to try to duck around it, yet it would have hardly mattered. He was on top of her before she knew it.

Kyle Mendel came out of the night, looking like the angel of death. His eyes, like his father's, were dark and intense, they swept up the path, and there was something in them. To Jesse's mind it was blood lust. The ruddy planes of his face were no longer handsome. They were hard, twisted into a challenging glare. In his hand he held what looked like a short stick. However as he stopped just feet from Jesse, she heard a very quiet and very unsettling sound:
snick
.

It wasn't a stick he had been carrying, it was a switchblade. The razor edge of it caught the light and it glimmered up at Jesse, hypnotizing her. Though probably only four inches long, the blade was immense in her eyes.

"Is it my turn?" Ky hissed out.

Jesse dragged her eyes from the knife and saw a look of derangement on Ky's face. It was hard to miss, he was right there. Yet he didn't see her. Because of her black clothing and the fact that she had remained perfectly motionless his eyes had taken her for just another shadow.

"Don't ignore me!" he commanded speaking down the path. "Is it my turn, finally?"

His turn? What was he talking about? Very frightening thoughts went through her head in the time it took for Ky to turn and see Jesse standing next to the tree. His turn? Did he and the Shadow-man take turns killing? Was that it? Was that why the Shadow-man had never been caught? He had an accomplice? Or was Ky his apprentice? Learning the art of murder at the knee of his fell master?

"You..." Ky whispered at the sight of her. Mentally, he seemed to be going in two directions at once: the hand that held the switchblade came up and the deadly point was square in Jesse's face, but at the same time his eyes lost their deadly look. His face as well, no longer appeared as cruel as it had. The muscles there were slack, so that his mouth came open a little.

Two seconds clicked by in this fashion with them silently staring at each other and then, without warning, the boy launched himself on Jesse. He was so fast. All she saw was a blur of blue denim and a single silver-white line of the knife as it shot at her. For her part, Jesse had never been slower. Exhausted and stunned, she moved in slow motion, as if she were under water, or in the midst of horrible nightmare.

It felt like a nightmare.

In a blink, Ky had a hold of her shoulders and spun her like a top. Just like that, she was staring up at the moon. It never seemed brighter. Her vision tunneled on it and the world around her disappeared. Yet terribly this didn't last. In her periphery, she saw the knife coming for her throat. It looked deadly sharp. It felt deadly sharp.