Gingerbread Man

him. He wore the most menacing look Vince had seen him wear off screen, and the walking stick suddenly looked like a potential weapon. "I want you to stay away from Amanda. Do you understand?"
    Vince blinked. "Why?"
    The older man's brows lifted. "Why? Because I said so. And because I'm someone you'd be wise not to piss off, young man. I will make you very sorry if you do."
    "I see."
    "Good."
    He wanted to argue with the man, but that was ego and pride and temper. The cop in him had it in hand. He controlled it.
    Holly had her window rolled down as he turned and walked toward the car. "Good-bye Amanda," she called, waving once again.
    The young woman on the front step waved back, smiling. "I'll see you both soon," she called back. "At the Halloween party. You are coming, aren't you?"
    Vince couldn't help it. He should have, but he couldn't. He smiled, shot a sideways glance at Reggie, and said loudly, "We wouldn't miss it."
    It was a good thing the man couldn't incinerate things with the power of his evil glare, as he had in
The Eyes of Dr. Stark,
Vince thought, or his hair would have been smoldering.
    He gave a nod, and got into the car.
    "I don't think Reggie likes you," Holly said.
    "Really? I thought he was downright friendly."
    She leaned back in the seat, sighing.
    * * *
    HER HOUSE SEEMED different somehow when she walked through the front door that morning. Out of order. Not... right. Her routines were so far out of whack she wondered if she would ever get them back again, and she consciously had to force herself not to count. No. Not to count aloud. Inside her mind, she was counting anyway. Counting the steps from the car up the sidewalk, to the front door. Counting the nine small windowpanes in the door.
    She understood the psychology of it. If she stopped counting, she would have room in her mind for the other things. The fears. The memories. The guilt. The knowledge that very bad things could happen to her and to those she loved, at any moment, at any time, without warning or rhyme or reason.
    So, silently, she counted.
    Waking up in a strange bed, having to take a ride in Dr. Graycloud's car to get back to her own kitchen for morning coffee with her mother, was not the way things were supposed to go.
    Vince looked at her, watched her, all the way back to the house. He knew, she thought. He knew how she was feeling right now. He was waiting for her to fall apart, but, dammit, she wouldn't. She refused. So she counted. It was better than the alternative.
    Vince opened the door and she went in, stopped walking, and glanced up at her mother. Her mother was at the kitchen table, her coffee mug in her hand. Right where she was supposed to be at this time of the morning. Thank God. Chief Mallory sat beside her. Not across from her. His being there was not part of the daily routine, but was an accepted variation on it. He was there often enough for her to adjust to him. And at least he wasn't in Holly's chair.
    "Well. Good morning," her mother said. Her smile was knowing and her cheeks pink as her shining eyes shimmied back and forth between Holly and Vince.
    "It's not what you think." Why those were the first words to come out of her mouth, she couldn't imagine. Not when their lives were at risk, and she was about to give her mother news that would alter hers dramatically.
    Doris frowned and got to her feet. "Your head ..." She came forward, eyeing the patch Dr. Graycloud had applied to Holly's head.
    "It's fine, Mom. But..." She glanced at Vince for help. "We need to talk."
    Chief Mallory got to his feet, but Vince held up a hand. "No, Chief, I think you need to be here for this, too. You're going to need to know about all of it, sooner or later."
    Nodding, the chief sat back down.
    "I don't like the way this is sounding," Doris said. "What's going on with you two?"
    Sighing, Holly took her mother's hand. "Come on, Mom. Sit down. How are you feeling this morning?"
    "Fine. Better than you, by the looks of you. What happened last night, Holly?"
    Holly bit her lip. She walked with her mother back to the table, urged her back into her seat. Then she got two cups, poured coffee for her and Vince, and sat down in her own chair. Vince took his cup, but remained standing. Holly sent him a silent plea. She was gratified that he seemed to read it so easily.
    "Last night," he said, "Holly and I took a rowboat out on the lake. The light on the dock went out after dark, and we got lost in the fog. Then the storm started