Gingerbread Man

He learned that a call to the local telephone company and payment in advance could turn it on, giving him two lines to work with. He folded up his laptop, pocketed his cell phone, and headed out.
    He drove all the way back to the city. It took longer than he'd hoped it would, to pick up supplies at home, and find most of what he needed at the retail outlets. He then met Jerry for a quick lunch and an even quicker conversation.
    Jerry nodded toward Vince's Jeep beyond their booth window. Boxes stacked in the back showed through the tinted glass. "Been shopping?"
    "Yeah. Gave the old plastic a workout this morning."
    "So, what's the connection you're onto, buddy?"
    Vince shook his head.
    "Can't tell you that. Not yet, anyway. Did you get what I asked you for?"
    "Yeah. And it's damned interesting, Vince." He slid a fat manila envelope across the table, and Vince picked it up. But before he could ask what was inside, a uniformed cop walked through the door.
    Vince took the envelope and slid out of the booth. He was supposed to be on vacation. If anyone saw him in town, much less meeting with his partner and exchanging large envelopes, questions would surely come up. And Jerry could get into as much trouble as Vince.
    Jerry started to get up, too, but Vince held up a hand. He'd just slip out alone while the cop's back was to him.
    Jerry understood, and gave a nod. "Be careful, buddy. And call if you need me."
    "I will."
    Vince walked out of the diner with the envelope under his arm, got into his Jeep, and headed back to Dilmun. He glanced at his watch and knew he was going to be late.
    * * *
    HOLLY PACED AS more and more of the locals gathered, and she tried to keep her gaze from drifting toward Vince O'Mally's cabin. She wasn't having much success. His Jeep had been gone most of the day. Maybe he'd decided that whatever he'd come looking for wasn't here. Maybe he'd gone back to Syracuse for good.
    "It's early yet, hon." Her mother's hand curled over Holly's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze. "He'll be here."
    "Who?" Holly pasted an unconcerned expression on her face. She couldn't very well tell her mother she half hoped the man was gone for good. Or that the other half only wanted to see him tonight, to try to find out what he was really after.
    Doris just shook her head and moved away, toward the heap of deadwood that had been piled up for the bonfire. Around the pile, in a concentric circle, people milled. Picnic tables littered the area, and the early arrivals claimed them. Others spread blankets on the ground, or unfolded lawn chairs. Off to the left, on the round pavilion, a local band set up their instruments. Farther from the woodpile, some of the locals were erecting dome tents, planning to make a full night of it.
    Already the sun was drooping low beyond the hills out past the lake. It had been a nicer day today than yesterday. Chilly and breezy, but dry. The sky was dusky now, violet and pink as the sun sank lower, and the wind stirred the water with its breath.
    And still not one sign of life from O'Mally's cabin.
    "You looking for someone?"
    His voice came from right behind her, and she jumped. Then she bit her lip and closed her eyes, still not facing him. Damn, he'd caught her staring off toward his place. He would probably reach the same conclusions that her mother had.
    "I... was just wondering if your burglar had come back." There, that was better. She turned, trying for a smug expression.
    He said, "He might have for all I know. I haven't been home all day."
    "I know." She frowned, and felt a stirring discomfort because he stood so close.
    "Did you see anything suspicious?" he asked.
    Holly shrugged. "It's not like I've been watching."
    "No?"
    She shook her head.
    "Then how did you know I hadn't been home yet?"
    "Lucky guess." She saw his Jeep now, in the vacant area they used as a parking lot for lakefront gatherings. He'd parked there and come straight here, rather than going back to the cabin first. Almost as if he were in a hurry. He wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, unzipped so that his blue button-down shirt showed underneath. It wasn't tucked in tightly, so it bagged. She wondered if he ate enough. A cop his age should have a paunch. He had a haggard look to him—eyes slightly heavy lidded, and shadowed. He didn't have laugh lines around his eyes. He needed them.
    His eyes met hers, and she knew he was aware of her perusal.
    "Oh, Detective O'Mally, there you are!" Doris called, hurrying