Gingerbread Man

the water into it and rummaged underneath for the coffee and filters, while the man observed her every action. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her back, and she was so rattled by his presence that her hand shook as she measured the French roast into the basket, scattering bits of coffee all over the cart's surface. "Damn." She slammed the basket into place, hit the on button, and immediately looked at her watch.
"Damn."
    "Are you okay, Red?"
    She pivoted to face him. He wasn't sitting as she'd told him to. In fact, he was standing only a foot or two behind her. "My name is not Red. It's Holly. Holly Newman."
    "And you make the coffee."
    "Among other things."
    "And you take your job very seriously."
    Her glare heated. She felt it heat. It should have wilted him by now. He should have smoke curling from the ends of his dark hair. "Excuse me?"
    He smiled, but it never reached his eyes. There was something dark about the man, and his eyes seemed hidden among shadows. They were blue, but not vivid. Dull, though she felt that was not their natural state.
    "It's not like the coffee being five minutes late is going to bring about the ruin of Dilmun, is it?"
    He didn't look sarcastic or teasing. He just looked... tired. She felt her lips narrow. "Just what is it you're doing here, Detective? I know it's not anything official, so—"
    He held up a stop-sign hand. "Wait a minute. How do you know that?"
    She shrugged. "We don't have any real crime in Dilmun. Much less anything important enough to bring you all the way down here from Syracuse. Nothing bad ever happens here. And besides, I know everything that goes on in this office. The chief hasn't had any official communications from... um...
S.P.D."
She smirked when she said it. "So what are you doing here?"
    "You're sharp, Red. You oughtta be a cop."
    "You're changing the subject."
    He held up both hands. "You going to arrest me?"
    She rolled her eyes and turned to head back into her office. He stopped her at the doorway by speaking. "Actually, you're right. I'm not here on business. At least, not officially. The truth is, I'm on vacation."
    She battled a shiver. "And what is your unofficial business?"
    "I can't tell you that."
    "And if I should call S.P.D. and ask them?"
    "You'd probably get me fired."
    He wasn't kidding. His manner was completely matter-of-fact. Something weighed on the man. Something big.
    The bell jangled as the front door opened, and Chief Mallory walked in, making the room seem immediately smaller. He stopped where he was, his brows drawing together, his gaze moving from Holly standing nose to chest with the big, full-of-himself detective, to the coffee cart, with puddles of water, a dusting of grounds, and a pot that was only half filled. His frown grew deeper.
    "Holly?" he asked, one hand inching toward the gun at his side.
    "Whoa, wait a minute, now ..." O'Mally backed away from her, holding both his hands up to about shoulder height and looking from Chief Mallory to her and back again. "I'm a cop, okay? For a town with no crime in it, the residents are sure as hell nervous."
    "It's okay, Chief," Holly said. "This is Detective O'Mally, down from Syracuse. He's been waiting to see you, and irritating me." She shook her head in disgust. "Sorry about the coffee."
    "Honey, I can wait five minutes for my coffee." The chief relaxed, and walked forward, extending a hand. "Sorry about the reaction, Detective. I'm not used to seeing Holly flustered."
    "I was not flustered," Holly called as she headed into her office. "Just distracted!" She returned with a roll of paper towels, and proceeded to clean up the coffee cart.
    The two men shook hands and the chief said, "We can talk in my office. Holly, will you bring us back some coffee when it's ready?"
    She nodded, smiling easily at the chief, then gritted her teeth and held the smile in place with effort as she asked, "How do you like it, O'Mally?'
    He pierced her eyes with his. He just said, "Black." And for some reason the word sent a chill right up her spine.
    There was something dark living inside that man. It had peeked out at her just now. Holly recognized it at once, because she had seen it many times before.
    In the mirror.

THREE
----

    DILMUN WAS ONE strange little town, nestled at the southern tip of the Finger Lake named Cayuga. Part of it was quaint to the point of "tacky tourist trap" status, and seemed designed to fool you into thinking you were on the New England coast. Cross a street