Gingerbread Man

shook her head. "It's a mistake..."
    "It's the same book. And if it's the same book, it's the same predator."
    She locked her gaze with his. "No."
    "It has to be. Holly, I know this isn't easy, but try to see what's staring you in the face, here. They could have the wrong man in prison for killing your sister."
    "He confessed," she said.
    The wheels that had been turning so rapidly in Vince's mind came to a grinding halt. "Confessed?"
    She nodded, placing her hands flat on the table, getting slowly to her feet. "And then we finally managed to put some closure on things, and to try to move on with our lives. The book is a coincidence. A sick, twisted, painful irony, but a coincidence. And now that you know that, you should leave here and take all of this with you. Because I can't deal with it again. I won't."
    He got up as well, went to her, gripped her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I know this is hard. But, Red, look at you. You didn't deal with it the first time. And I didn't bring this anguish to you. It's been living right here, inside you, for all these years, because you won't let it out. And if you don't pretty soon, it's gonna destroy you. Trust me on this. I know."
    She tipped her head up, searched his face. "How do you know?"
    He closed his eyes. "I just do."
    He felt her hand on his cheek, and opened his eyes again. "I see," she said. "So there's pain in your past, too." She shook her head. "I would think you, of all people, would understand my need to let this stay where it belongs, dead and buried."
    He watched her, the determination in her face, the firm set of her jaw. "The only pain in my past is that I've seen too many people I cared about self-destruct because they couldn't deal. You can, I'm convinced you can. You're not weak or fragile at all, are you? You're tough, and you're smart. And stubborn and pushy and bossy. But when it comes to this—you're still playing the victim. And it's against your nature. You
can
deal with it. But you won't."
    "I was over it," she insisted. "I was. I was fine until you came."
    "You were ignoring it. There's a difference."
    Headlights gleamed through the windows. Holly stiffened and turned away. "Don't say a word of this to my mother. Do you understand, Vince? She barely survived losing Ivy—and then Dad. She's been through enough."
    He nodded, picked up the file. "If you don't want her to know anything's wrong—"
    She pressed a hand to her face. "God, she can't see me like this. Tell her... tell her I'm feeling better and taking a shower."
    With that, she ran for her bedroom. Leaving Vince to tell the lie. Hell, he could see no reason to bring her mother into this. Not yet. Holly had just shot a pretty big hole in his theory. But he knew in his gut there was some connection, and he was damned well going to find out what.
    The front door opened, and Doris walked in. Chief Mallory stood outside the door, hat in his hand. "Come in for coffee?" she asked.
    He looked past her, nodded hello to Vince. "No. It's late, you'd better get some rest."
    She leaned up to kiss the chief briefly on the mouth, then turning, finally acknowledged Vince's presence. "How is Holly doing?"
    "She's feeling better. She decided to take a shower."
    Doris twisted her wrist to look at her watch. "At one
am?
    "Go figure," Vince said. He clutched the envelope close to his chest and moved toward the door. "I should go, now that you're home. Do me a favor, Doris, and lock up from now on. Okay?"
    She made a face. "I suppose it's a bit self-deluding to go through life thinking I don't have to worry about break-ins out here."
    "You're right, it is," Mallory said.
    Doris sighed, nodded, then paused as Vince passed. "What's that you have, Vince?"
    He glanced down at the envelope. "Oh. Just some research on the case I was working before I took my vacation. I don't want to be behind when I get back on the job."
    "My goodness, you certainly are conscientious."
    "I try to be, ma'am. Good night." He stepped out onto the porch beside Chief Mallory, and Doris closed the door. He listened for the locks, heard them turning, and knew Mallory was listening, too.
    As he started for the car, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "Just a minute, son."
    Vince paused. Mallory took the envelope from him, turned it over, and looked at the name on the front. Vince let him. He could have stopped him easily, but he'd pretty much decided that it was time to bring the chief in on this whole thing.
    "That's about what I