Gingerbread Man

spend some time with Bethany, too, to start planning that Halloween costume, so she could go in search of a pattern on her Sunday shopping trip with Mom.
    But, no. No, her well-laid plan was destroyed, her carefully calculated outline of the evening's activities, torn to bits. All because of Vince O'Mally.
    What interest could he possibly have in her past?
    She walked away from the lake, from the cars in the lot, from the cabins. She walked until the fire's glow no longer reached her. The road was dark. No streetlights, not here. And no stars tonight, either. It was as if the sky matched her mood. Dark.
    That cop was up to something. Something involving her, and her past, and that book. That damned book. That damned, damned, damned book. It had triggered something, when she'd heard the title of the missing book. It had set things into motion in her mind, things she'd locked away and managed to keep contained for a long, long time.
    A little girl's voice started singing in her mind.
Run, run, run, fast as you can
—
    "No," Holly whispered. But it came again.
You can't catch me
—
    She pressed her hands to her ears, closed her eyes. "No, no, dammit, no!" She wasn't going to think about it, she wasn't. It was in the past, and that was where it belonged. But then she was gone, sinking into an abyss of memory, and suddenly she was small, and carrying a backpack as she walked. The gravel was replaced by a sidewalk, the night sky by daylight. And a little girl with dimples and blue eyes and golden blonde hair in braids skipped along beside her, clutching a copy of her favorite book in her hands ... and she was singing ...
    "Run, run, run, fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the gingerbread man. "
    Ivy sang the words she'd memorized from her favorite story as they walked home from school together. Holly used to walk home alone, but now that Ivy was in kindergarten, she had to walk with her. She was
supposed
to hold her little sister's hand all the way, but she rarely did so until they got within sight of the house.
    "I can't believe you brought that book home, Ivy. It was supposed to be returned to the library before we came back from the lake!"
    "I wanted to keep it."
    Holly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but it was on my library
card. I only just got it this year. If you don't return your books on time, they don't let you take out any more."
    Ivy looked up at her sister, her huge eyes wide. "I didn't mean to get you in trouble, Holly."
    Holly softened. The kid looked near tears. "Never mind. I guess it'll be okay, so long as we take it back next time we go down to the lake."
    "Yeah!" Ivy smiled, her worry gone, and continued walking with her big sister, until Holly turned left instead of going straight at the end of the block.
    "Holly?"
    "It's okay, sweetie. I just want to take the long way home this time."
    "Why?"
    Holly looked around. "Because that new boy lives over this way, and I want to go past his house."
    Ivy's smile spread wider. "Ooh. You
like
him, don't you?" She added in a sing song voice, "Holly and Johnny, sittin' in a tree
—"
    "Don't
even."
Holly scowled. "And if you tell a soul, I'll never get you another library book ever again. You hear?"
    Ivy giggled, and skipped ahead "I won't tell." Then she chanted, "Holly's got a boyfriend, Holly's got a boyfriend..."
    They walked down the street they didn't usually take. And then the van came around the corner....
    "No, no, no, no, no ..."
    "Holly!" Hands gripped her shoulders, shook her. "Holly!"
    A sob welled up and she bit her lip, fighting the nightmare of her past, telling herself to pull out of it, but the words burst free anyway. "Mom told us to come straight home!"
    "Holly, open your eyes and look at me. Right now." His tone was firm and level and strong. She opened her eyes. Vince O'Mally was kneeling on the gravel road in front of her, looking at her as if he thought she might be dying. She was sitting down on the side of the road with her hands pressed to her ears. Her face was wet. Really wet. So wet that tears were dripping off her chin onto her blouse.
    "What the hell happened to you? Was someone out here? Did he—?"
    She held up a hand to stop him. "I'm okay. I'm okay, now." Her hand decided to grip the front of his shirt. She'd been crying so hard her chest kept heaving with spasms, even though she'd forced the tears to stop. His arms came around her, and she didn't resist, although she remained stiff, holding herself together by sheer will. He'd