The Snowman Killer Page 8

  Moving through the living room toward the main hallway, Sarah looked down and saw a peppermint candy cane lying on the floor. “Kaley, I'm very sorry about your mother. You need to understand that I was only doing my job.”

  She looked down the hallway. A line of peppermint candy canes led to her writing room. With her gun at the ready, Sarah walked silently down the hallway and stopped at the writing room door. The door was cracked open. Drawing in a deep breath, she kicked open the door and charged into the room. The window was open, throwing cold wind at the snowman that was standing in the middle of the room. The snowman was wearing a leather jacket and chewing a peppermint candy cane. Sarah nearly screamed.

  A piece of computer paper was lying at the foot of the snowman. With shaky hands, Sarah bent down and picked it up. “Gary Hardcastle laughed as he walked away into the woods, eating a peppermint candy cane. Tormenting his victim almost tasted better than the peppermint in his mouth.”

  Sarah dropped the piece of paper. Unable to restrain her terrified eyes, she looked at the snowman. “You're not real... it's only a story... a story...” she whispered and began backing away from the snowman. “Not real... not real...”

  As she backed up into the hallway, Sarah felt a hand touch her shoulder. Screaming, she turned and prepared to fire her gun. Conrad threw his hands up into the air. “It's only me!” he yelled.

  “Detective Spencer?” Sarah said, breathing hard.

  “It's only me,” Conrad promised as he watched tears begin to fall from Sarah's eyes.

  “I...” Sarah tried to speak but found that she couldn't. Instead, she buried her face in Conrad's shoulder and began crying.

  “Hey, it's all right,” Conrad said in a soothing, strong voice. “Everything is all right.”

  The telephone in the living room rang. Sarah looked up into Conrad's face. “Please, answer the call,” she said, wiping at her warm tears.

  Conrad let go of Sarah and walked into the living room. “Hello?” he asked, picking up the phone.

  “Let me speak to Cat,” Peter said in an urgent voice.

  “It's your friend from Los Angeles.”

  Sarah wiped at her tears again, hurried over to Conrad, and took the phone. “Peter?”

  “Kaley Wilson is here in Los Angeles,” Peter told Sarah. He was sitting in his office, chewing on a cigar. He picked up a cup of coffee, looked at it, and then set the cup back down.

  “What?” Sarah asked, confused.

  “Kaley Wilson is right here in Los Angeles. She was located at her apartment getting ready for a fashion show that's taking place tonight.”

  “Are... you sure?” Sarah asked, shocked.

  “The young lady is sitting in a questioning room right now,” Peter informed her. “I don't know who you've got up there in Alaska with you, but it's not Kaley Wilson. And it wasn't Kaley Wilson who killed her mother, either.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Cat, I wasn't assigned to the Wilson case, so I never questioned Kaley. But after speaking to her earlier, I can tell you that the young lady really cared for her mother.”

  “Then who... I mean...” Sarah shook her head as frustration set in. “Then who is building these awful snowmen?”

  “I don't know,” Peter confessed. “Someone is playing a deadly game with you. You’d better put on your thinking cap and stop acting like a rookie.”

  “Did you fax the photo of Kaley to me?”

  “Yeah, about an hour ago.”

  “I need you to fax the same photo to the local hospital here in Snow Falls. Call the hospital and get their fax number. Tell them to take the photo to Amanda. She's a close friend of mine. I want the young lady who saw... whoever it is playing this game... to look at the photo.”

  “Sure thing,” Pete promised.

  “And then...” Sarah paused as an idea whispered into her troubled mind. “Hey Pete, can you line up a photo set of all the models Kaley Wilson has worked with and send them to me? Talk to Kaley and get all the names of the models she’s worked with.”

  Peter groaned miserably. “I was hoping to get home before midnight, Cat. But, sure, yeah, okay.”

  “Thanks, Pete. I owe you.”

  “Yeah, you do. I'll call you when I have the photos ready. And for the love of everything good, keep your blasted cell phone on you.”

  “I left my purse in my Subaru,” Sarah apologized. “Listen, Pete, one more thing,” she said in a steady voice. “Talk with Kaley Wilson and see if she had any enemies, okay?”

  “Yeah, you're reading my mind. I'll be in touch.”

  Sarah put down the phone. “Kaley Wilson is in Los Angeles.”

  Conrad lifted his right hand and rubbed his jaw. Without saying a word, he walked to Sarah's writing room, examined the snowman and the piece of computer paper lying on the floor, and then returned to the living room. “Okay,” he said in a tired voice, “we wait right here. I have Philip handcuffed in a bathroom at the hospital. I called Andrew to go pick him up.”

  “I told you I needed to come alone. I didn't want to spook Kaley,” Sarah told Conrad. Sitting down on her couch, she stared into the warm fire. “In my book, right before Gary Hardcastle finished off his victim, he broke into the victim's home and built a fire in the fireplace.”

  “Gary Hardcastle dies, though, right?”

  Sarah nodded. “The victim, Ruby Whitemoore, kills Gary by chance rather than strength. But, even though it seems to the reader that Gary is dead, I planned on bringing him back in the last book. Now... I'm living out my book...”

  Conrad walked to the couch and sat down beside Sarah. “Whoever is behind this will be brought to justice.”

  “Whoever left that awful snowman in my writing room is out there in the snow,” Sarah corrected him. “I guess I need to get a flashlight and go ahead and search for boot prints.”

  “No,” Conrad said and shook his head. “You saw the second snowman on your lawn when you arrived, didn't you?”

  “I did,” Sarah admitted in a scared voice. “When the third snowman is built... the curtains fall,” she explained. “But... Gary Hardcastle attacks when the snow stops falling.”

  “Exactly,” a voice said.

  Sarah and Conrad jumped to their feet and swung around. A pretty blond-haired girl was standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. “Drop your guns,” she ordered in a deadly voice.

  Sarah locked her eyes on the Glock 17 the girl was aiming at her. “Who are you?” Sarah asked.

  “Well, you know that I'm not Kaley Wilson,” the girl smiled. Her eyes were vicious. “You can call me Noel.”

  Conrad soaked in the girl’s face, hair, and clothing. She was wearing a pink ski outfit. A long, blond ponytail was flowing out from under the pink ski cap on her head. Pink gloves covered with glitter protected her hands. The girl looked like a model modeling clothes for a ski lodge, not a deadly killer. “Why?” Conrad asked in a calm voice, dropping his gun down onto the couch. He motioned for Sarah to drop her gun as well. “Why are you tracking Detective Garland?”

  Noel leaned her head back and laughed. “I don't care about some dried-up prune who writes stupid little books. All I care about is making Kaley Wilson suffer.”

  “It was you who visited Kaley's Wilson's mother in prison,” Sarah said as a sudden revelation struck her mind.

  Noel grinned at Sarah. “You're very smart. But not as smart as you think or you would have checked your pantry.”

  “You tricked Philip into thinking you were Kaley Wilson,” Conrad said.

  “Yes, I did,” Noel said proudly, flashing a pretty smile at Conrad. Conrad didn't find the smile pretty at all. “Philip caught onto my act and decided to play a game of his own. That silly little boy is about as smart as you two are.”

  “Kaley Wilson is back in Los Angeles sitting in a questioning room,” Sarah informed Noel. “Your game is over. There is no way you can frame her for my murder now. And Philip is under arrest. He tried to play your game at the
hospital and also attacked an innocent girl.”

  Noel kept smiling. With her free hand, she reached into the pocket of her ski jacket and pulled out an envelope. “Read,” she said and threw the envelope at Conrad.

  Conrad bent down slowly and picked up the envelope. Carefully, he extracted a letter and read it. “What does it say?” Sarah asked.

  “It’s from Kaley Wilson to Noel Dalton, instructing her to kill you... signed with a pen.”

  “Kaley's actual signature,” Noel said proudly. “One night I spiked Kaley's drink. Kaley became, well, a wee bit intoxicated. I had her sign the bottom of that letter for me. Now wasn't that nice of her?”

  “So you're going to kill me and send this letter to the police?” Sarah asked.

  “That's my plan,” Noel answered.

  “You killed Kaley Wilson's mother, didn't you?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes,” Noel said, losing her smile. “Kaley was supposed to take the fall for her mother's death, but the stupid police ruled it as a suicide. But,” she continued, forcing a smile back to her deadly eyes, “Ms. Wilson was kind enough to tell me all about how much she despised you, Sarah Garland, and wished you dead. And since mommy dearest didn't help me destroy her daughter, I knew you would have to do.”

  “Why the games?” Conrad asked.

  “Why did you act out my last book?” Sarah added as the winds howled and screamed outside. “You could have easily killed me at any time of your choosing.”

  “I love your books,” Noel told Sarah. Her voice sounded strange. “I love 'The Snowman Killer from Frostworth' series you write. When I found out you were the Milly Stevens... oh, it was simply delicious. I couldn't resist the opportunity to play out the part of Gary Hardcastle. I was going to kill you, I really was. But... oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful... so let it snow, snow, snow!”

  “You're a very sick young lady,” Sarah said.

  Noel stopped smiling. “And you're a dead woman,” she promised Sarah. “Into your writing room, Ms. Garland... a.k.a. Milly Stevens.”

  Conrad nodded at Sarah and walked toward her writing room. Sarah followed. Desperately attempting to think of a way to take down Noel, she glanced over her shoulder. Noel was aiming her gun right at Sarah’s back. One wrong move, Sarah knew, and Noel would put a bullet into her.

  Sarah walked into the writing room behind Conrad and looked again at the devious snowman. The snowman seemed alive. It stared back at her with dark, shadowy eyes filled with vicious hate. “Now,” Noel said, closing the door to the writing room, “before I kill you, I have a favor to ask.”

  “A favor?” Sarah asked, turning her back to the snowman. Conrad, however, continued to stare at it. He was focused directly on the tree limbs Noel had stuffed into the sides of the snowman as arms.

  “Yes,” Noel said in a cheerful voice. “I want you to sit down at your desk and write me a short story. I want you to change the ending to your last book. I really didn't like that you killed poor Gary. I want you to bring him back to life.”

  “I will never bring Gary Hardcastle back to life, not now or ever,” Sarah promised.

  Noel narrowed her eyes at Sarah and a threatening flash of anger shot over her face “Bring Gary Hardcastle back to life or I will shoot your detective friend dead,” she warned.

  “Do it,” Conrad told Sarah in a voice that came out calm and even. Noel glanced at him but quickly focused her eyes back on Sarah.

  Sarah walked to her writing desk and sat down. The computer was on. A blank writing document was already pulled up. Bowing her head, she closed her eyes. The hideous snowman standing in the middle of the room seemed to be reaching for her mind. The cold winds pouring in through the open window felt as if they were empowering the snowman's desire to torment her. “I... can't...”

  “Write,” Noel ordered. She walked past the snowman, keeping a safe distance from Conrad, and pressed the gun in her hand against Sarah's left shoulder. “Bring Gary Hardcastle to life!”

  Conrad knew it was time to act. He went for the sturdy tree branch sticking out of the right side of the snowman, closest to his body, but before his hand could reach it, Noel swung around and fired a warning shot into the ceiling. “Listen, handsome,” she said in a cold voice, “you're going to die tonight too, so don't rush it, okay?”

  Conrad stared at Noel. “You're a very ugly girl,” he told her. “Your beauty is as dirty as a sewer rat.”

  Conrad's insult was like a slap across Noel’s face. She aimed her gun at him. “That was very rude of you to say. You're going to pay for that insult, too. Get ready to die, cop!”

  “Wait,” Sarah yelled, “I'll write... but if you shoot him, I won't. I promise I won't write a single word.”

  Noel nearly hissed at Sarah. Glaring at Conrad, she lowered her gun. “Write,” she ordered again, becoming impatient.

  Sarah put her hands together, rubbed her soft, cold chin, and struggled to focus. Hesitantly, she lowered her hands down onto the keyboard and began typing. Conrad watched Sarah write. He watched a truly beautiful and mysterious woman transform into something that his mind could not comprehend—and would never be able to comprehend. The Sarah Garland he knew vanished right before his eyes and Milly Stevens came to life while the snowstorm raged outside, throwing snow into the faces of the two hideous snowmen standing outside like dark, gruesome guards.

  “That's it,” Noel beamed as she looked over Sarah's shoulder at the computer screen, “bring my love back to life... oh Gary, we're going to be together again.”

  Sarah closed her eyes as her hands flew across the keyboard. In her mind, she saw the face of a handsome man wearing a black tuxedo. The man grinned at Sarah with perfect teeth and welcomed her with a thick Russian accent. His eyes were dark and red, his hair black and wavy. “Hello, Sarah...”

  “Hello, Gary,” Sarah whispered and continued to type. Her fingertips suddenly began changing Gary Hardcastle's appearance. The man's face became ugly, distorted and evil. His teeth became rotted and his hair began to fall out.

  “What are you doing?” Noel screamed.

  “Showing you the real Gary Hardcastle,” Sarah whispered as her fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “Stop it... stop it now!” Noel demanded.

  “You have to kill me first,” Sarah promised.

  Noel began to panic. Right before her eyes, she saw Gary Hardcastle transforming into the true monster that he was. Tears began to flow from her eyes. Screaming, she aimed the gun in her hand at Sarah. “Stop it now! Change him back! Change Gary back or die!”

  “I don't think so, sweetie,” a voice said.

  “What?” Noel turned around. A hard fist greeted her pretty face. Stumbling backward, she tumbled down onto Sarah. Dazed from the punch, Noel struggled to understand who had hit her. But before she could move, Conrad had the gun out of her hand and Sarah had thrown her down onto the floor.

  “Nice punch,” Conrad congratulated Amanda.

  “I thought I told you to stay with Rhonda,” Sarah told Amanda as she pushed Noel's arms behind her back.

  Amanda smiled. “No silly twit was going to get the best of us, Los Angeles. We're partners, remember?”

  “I owe you one, partner,” Sarah promised. Raising her eyes upward, she saw the hideous snowman again. “Take her,” she told Conrad.

  Conrad took hold of Noel. “I've got her.”

  “Bring him back... bring back Gary,” Noel screamed.

  Sarah didn't answer Noel. Instead, she walked to the snowman, balled her little hands into two tight fists, and attacked. “I'm not afraid of you... I'm not afraid of you… I'm not afraid of you!” she yelled.

  Amanda backed away from Sarah. Conrad pulled Noel to the far corner of the room. He watched Sarah destroy the snowman with angry, brave fists. Snow flew all over the writing room, striking the writing desk, the computer, the walls, the ceiling. “Why did you divorce me... why did you hurt me... why did you hate me?” Sarah began crying a
s she destroyed the snowman. “Why?” Finally, exhausted from her fight, she dropped to her knees, threw her hands to her face, and wept. “Why?” she whispered.

  Amanda walked to her friend, knelt down, and put her arms tenderly around Sarah. Conrad walked Noel out of the writing room. Outside, the snowstorm continued to scream and howl as the world all around Sarah continued to move. In cities far away, couples in love were holding hands and sharing first kisses. But in Snow Falls, Alaska, a brokenhearted woman sat crying in her writing room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Horrible coffee,” Conrad whispered to Amanda.

  “Drink it,” Amanda whispered back, “and eat your cinnamon bun, you ungrateful bloke.”

  Conrad picked up a delicious cinnamon bun and took a bite. He liked sitting in Sarah's coffee shop. Something about it was soothing to him. “Not bad,” he told Amanda.

  Amanda brushed cinnamon bun crumbs off the blue dress she was wearing and looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “Sarah, love?” she called out.

  “I'm coming,” Sarah called back. A few seconds later Sarah walked out of the kitchen carrying a fresh pot of coffee. Conrad looked at Sarah and admired how beautiful she looked in the light pink-and-white dress she was wearing. He especially admired how lovely her hair was. Sure, he thought, there were cheap, plastic beauties in the world—but Sarah Garland was the real package.

  “What took you so long?” Amanda asked Sarah. “It is a celebration gathering for solving our case, you know. I didn’t get all fancied up for nothing.”

  “I was on the phone with Peter. Noel... I mean, Hannah Banks... is being transferred to a mental institution in California, compliments of her rich daddy.”

  “All of this because Hannah Banks was angry at Kaley Wilson over a silly modeling job,” Amanda said and rolled her eyes.

  “Kaley beat Hannah out of a good job,” Sarah explained and picked up a brown coffee mug. She took a sip and winced. “A bit too strong.”