Gingerbread Man

with you, Dr. Graycloud. He can watch Doris's room until we get him a replacement," Vince said.
    "All right. I'll speak to him before we leave." The doctor led Doris to the door, opened it, and they walked together out to his car.
    "Go on, Holly. Go with Vince," Jen ordered. "I've got no problem taking care of things here." Aunt Jen moved closer, ran a hand through Holly's hair. "Besides, it gives me a chance to take care of somebody. I haven't been able to do that since—well, since Kelly and Tara moved to San Francisco."
    Holly hugged the woman. "Okay. Thank you, Aunt Jen."
    "You're a good girl, Holly. Don't you worry about anything."
    "If you need me for anything—" Holly began.
    Aunt Jen held up a hand, stopping her, and dipped into her purse to pull out her cell phone. Then she frowned at it. "Oh, damn. I left it in the car overnight and the battery's down again. I am always doing that!" She sighed. "No matter, I'll plug it in and charge it up at the hospital, so I won't be out of touch at all. Okay?"
    "You need a car adapter for that thing," Holly muttered. She kissed her aunt warmly. "Thank you. You don't know how much you're helping me right now, just by being here."
    "That's what family's for, hon."
    Vince took Holly's arm. "Lock up behind us, Mrs. Cantrell."
    She nodded, tucked her cell phone into her purse, and waved them off.

FIFTEEN
----

    HOLLY KEPT HER spine very rigid and her chin very level on the ride back to Vince's rented cabin. She wasn't going to cry, not in front of him. She had to clench her hands into fists in her lap to keep them from trembling, and she couldn't really speak because her throat was too tight and that would give her away.
    He pulled into the drive, got out, took a pile of stuff from the back seat. She opened her door the minute the Jeep stopped, and she got out, too, walked around the car, and nearly collided with him at the bottom of the steps.
    "Your mother's going to be fine," he said.
    "Of course she is."
    "And so are you."
    She forced her eyes to meet his. "I already am."
    He sighed, but at least didn't argue the point. Instead, he took her arm with his free hand, led her up the steps, over the porch, then unlocked and opened the front door.
    She looked around the cabin. It was no neater than it had been the last time she'd been here. Messier, maybe. Stacks of folders, with sheets of paper sticking from them. A pile of slick-surfaced faxes laid on the floor in front of the fax machine, their ends curling upward. Glitzy magazines were scattered everywhere. Movie magazines. She wondered about that.
    "Weren't you concerned about another possible intruder?" she asked, looking at the mess.
    "Anything vital, I took with me." As he said it, he set the stuff he was carrying on the table. More file folders, and a flash drive from his shirt pocket. He walked to the fax, picked up the sheets, flipped through them. "Well, at least I don't see any notification that I've been fired. Not yet, anyway."
    "I take it you finally told your chief what you were doing down here?"
    "Yeah. I didn't have a choice. He notified the Feds, and passed along their orders."
    "Which are?"
    "That I"—he glanced at the papers in his hands, read from one of them—" 'cease and desist any and all unofficial investigation of this case until further notice.' Pretty clear and to the point."
    "So what are you going to do?"
    "I'm going to make some popcorn and watch old movies. Pop one into the DVD player will you?" He nodded toward the floor in front of the TV set, where a stack of DVDs stood like a tower. Then he walked into the kitchenette and opened cupboards.
    She went to the pile of movies, knelt, and perused the titles, thinking he'd lost his mind. Then she got it. "These are all Reginald D'Voe horror films."
    "Well, you know, 'tis the season. I've watched all the ones in the tall pile. Take one of those others."
    She opened a case, took out the DVD, and slid it into the player. Then she flicked on the television and watched as the opening credits of 1945's
Haunted
began to roll. "These are so old they don't even have previews," she said.
    "The newer editions do," he said. "They're re-releasing these all the time. Remastered, digitized, colorized... These were what they had at the rental place in town, though."
    "Thank God for small favors." She heard a series of beeps as he pressed buttons on the microwave, then he was standing beside her.
    "They probably won't tell us much, but I'm damned if I know