Gingerbread Man

Now you can. And she knows it. The question is, do you?"

FOURTEEN
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    "I DON'T KNOW what I expected. Devastation, maybe. But not this."
    From the uncomfortable green metal lawn chair on the patio, Holly had a clear view of her mother's bedroom door, which was closed, and locked.
    "She needs time to digest it all," Vince said. "And you need to stay close to her today."
    "Close to her? Close to her? Vince, she's dancing on an icy ledge, and she's going to fall, and it isn't going to matter how close I am when she does." She pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. "You were right. God, why did I insist on telling her?"
    "She had a right to know."
    "I should have waited. Maybe if I'd waited until we caught the guy... God, what if we don't? For Mom, that would be almost like losing Ivy all over again. I don't think she could survive it."
    Sighing, Vince moved to stand behind her, hands going to her shoulders, rubbing them briskly like some boxer's trainer in between rounds. "Just be there for her. It's all you can do."
    Holly let her head fall forward, let her muscles warm under his touch. "Vince?"
    "What?"
    She swallowed, hesitated. "I think there was a part of me that wanted to tell Mom what was happening, because—because—" Her throat seemed to close off.
    "Because she's your mom. And that's what you do when you're in trouble. You tell your mom, and she protects you from it."
    "She tried. I wouldn't have survived it, Vince. She kept me together, all this time." She sniffed. "I'm not sure I can ... get through this without her."
    "What are you gonna do? Hmm? You gonna fall off that icy ledge with your mother? Leap off it, maybe? Who the hell's gonna hold on to
her
if you do?"
    She shut her eyes. Vince crouched down, gripping her arms. "Ivy has been gone for almost two decades, Holly. You aren't a little girl anymore, and you aren't the delicate fragile thing everyone's been protecting all this time. You can do this."
    She shook her head. Her eyes focused on her feet, her heart aching because she knew he was right.
    "You don't have a choice, Red."
    Sniffling, Holly lifted her head, nodded once. "I know that."
    "Keep on knowing it." He reached up suddenly, cupped her face with his hands. "Don't quit on me. Not now."
    "I won't."
    He nodded, his eyes probing hers deeply, then darkening, and sliding lower to her lips. He licked his own, and quickly let her go, and looked at the floor.
    She leaned closer and pressed her mouth against his. As kisses went, it wasn't much. Hard, cool, all too brief.
    He looked at her, but he didn't scold. He sighed, instead, and rose to his full height. "I have some things I need to do."
    "What kinds of things?"
    "Come on, babe, I'm a detective. What kinds do you think?"
    She sent him a scowl.
    "Research. Background checks on... some of the players."
    "Can I help?"
    He shook his head. "No. You need to be here, with your mother. Besides, I need to concentrate on what I'm doing."
    "You can't concentrate when I'm around?"
    "No."
    "Why not?"
    He grimaced at her. "If you need me, use the cell phone. I'll be in and out of the cabin, but I'll have it with me, either way. Okay?"
    "Okay."
    He moved to the sliding doors that led to the living room, then paused. "I want you to call if you feel the slightest unease, Holly. Don't doubt your instincts at this point. Call if you need me."
    "I thought you didn't want me to need you."
    He closed his eyes slowly. "You know what I meant."
    "Yeah. Don't worry. I'll call. Go."
    So he went. She watched him move through the house, stop to speak with Chief Mallory, and then the two of them left together. Seconds after the sounds of their cars pulling away, Holly heard another vehicle come to a stop out front. She went inside, crossed the living room and looked outside. It was one of the local officers. Bill, she thought, glimpsing his blond hair through the windows of the police cruiser. She waved. He waved back.
    Holly let the curtain fall closed, and went to her mother's bedroom. Vince said to let her have some time alone. Holly wasn't so sure that was a good idea. She tried the door. It was still locked, but she'd locked herself out of her own room any number of times. The standard locks on the mass-produced door knobs were meant for privacy, not security. She went to the kitchen for a butter knife, put it into the groove in the center of the doorknob, and twisted. Then she opened the door and went inside.
    Her mother was curled up on the bed, sobbing