Dear Santa Part 10

Vic was grateful for the presence of that friend, because this wasn't a night to be out on your own, even for him, especially not where he was going.

The snow danced and blew, fine snow that silted into his face like wet sand and made him blink his eyes to see. He'd parked the Trans Am near Clinton venue at what he hoped would be an inconspicuous end of the block. This weather would probably keep the car heisters at bay, and he did have a steering-wheel bar lock and a guard on the column.

Still, it would be just his luck to end up on the victim list of the one really dedicated auto thief in the neighborhood.

He was back on Tooley Pennebaker's street again, across from her building where Sprite's terrified revelations had sent him. She claimed that her brother, Coyote, had a hiding place on the roof of one of the buildings on the other side of the street from Tooley's.

Sprite had described where it was, but in a blizzard at night with only streetlamp light to go by, Vic wasn't exactly sure which building was which.

One positive thing could be said about this weather. It made Ten Broeck Street, this block anyway, look better than its usual shabby self. The pale snow brushed everything clean, like a cityscape Christmas card, with pools of soft light here and there from the pole lamps that were still in working order. The blowing snow played other tricks on the eyes, too, creating the illusion of dark, moving shapes, almost visible in the whirling cloud of flakes. He skirted around those shapes more than once before telling himself they were about as real as the phantoms in Sprite's nightmares.

That thought didn't play well with his more sensible side. Even as he walked toward the alley of what he figured had to be the right building, Vic considered exactly what he was doing. He'd come out here to wander through what was basically a very dangerous part of town, even for him, in the middle of a snowstorm. He'd done that on the strength of the word of a sleepy little girl who suffered from night terrors. This could be the wildest of all wild-goose chases, and Vic had begun to feel like the goose.

Sprite said Coyote told her he got into the building through an unlocked window off the alleyway. Front doors would be kept bolted tight at night in this neighborhood if anybody in the building had any sense. A kid who'd clocked as many hours of street time as Coyote would know that. He probably managed to sneak in that front way once during the daytime then rigged the bas.e.m.e.nt window so n.o.body could tell it was no longer locked. Vic understood about such tactics. He'd used them more than once himself when he was younger. He hadn't been as young as Coyote then, but still too much of a kid to be on his own. One of the things Vic had learned back in those days was to keep his behind out of alleyways after sundown. He peered down this one now. All he could see was a dark tunnel between two dark buildings. Every breath of city smarts Vic had in him said he shouldn't go in there. Buta"what if Sprite knew what she was talking about? What if Coyote was huddled up on top of one of these roofs? He could be frozen by now, even in the makeshift shelter she seemed to think he'd put up for himself. Vic pulled the yellow, hard-rubber flashlight from his jacket pocket and stepped into the alley.

The flashlight was even less use than he'd expected, hitting the snow that fell from the s.p.a.ce of sky between the buildings and turning it to gray fog. He aimed the beam at the ground ahead of him in the hope he would be lucky enough to pick out any obstacles before he tripped over them. He switched the light toward the building wall on his right every now and then to check the location of the windows. He tried each one as he came to it, rattling the frame and checking the ledge for shims Coyote might have stuck in to keep the bottom of the window ajar.

Vic kept an eye on the alleyway in both directions, too. He didn't care to be snuck up on, and this flashlight he was holding made him more visible than he was comfortable with. His rattling had produced no movement at all from the first three windows. He was beginning to think his doubts about Sprite's claims were right. Why would a boy Coyote's age tell his kid sister about his secret hiding place, anyway? This was a jerk's journey Vic was on, and he knew it. He flicked off the flashlight. He'd pretty much decided to get out of here before trouble found him. He gave the next to the last window a halfhearted shove all the same, and nearly fell over when it angled inward a few inches. A harder push and the opening was wide enough for a skinny kid to get through. Vic wasn't quite so neat a fit. He had to crouch down and go in feet first, which put him in a much more vulnerable position than he liked. He had to ease his shoulders through one at a time. He told himself that when he left this place he was going out the front door.

A short drop and he was on the bas.e.m.e.nt floor with the flashlight snapped instantly on and beaming around into every nook and cranny among the boxes and other odd stuff that gets left in the cellar of an apartment building. Vic was fully aware that somebody besides Sprite could know about the open window and be using this place to flop in. Folks that desperate tended not to like being stumbled upon and generally carded some kind of weapon to use against intruders.

Vic reached behind him for the handle of his own weapon as the light beam made its sweep. Fortunately, he didn't see anybody. He was alone down here.

He exhaled harshly. He didn't mind admitting that this scene had his nerves on the edge for sure. The light found the exit door, and he hurried toward it. He was going to get this over with and be on his way back home as fast as he could manage it. The thought of home reminded him of Katherine waiting there, and little Sprite with her eyes huge and round from fear for her brother. Vic pushed the exit door open onto the stairwell from the bas.e.m.e.nt. Nothing on the stairs but a couple of crumpled candy wrappers. This was the kind of private corner kids sought out as an escape from apartments crowded with family, but there was n.o.body here now. Vic pressed on. The image in his head of Sprite's eyes gave him no other choice.

He climbed all five flights of stairs from the bas.e.m.e.nt to the top floor without incident. If anybody in any of the apartments along the way heard him pa.s.sing or saw the flicker of his flashlight in the dim halls, they gave no sign. A stealthy presence outside the door late at night in a neighborhood like this one wasn't likely to invite open curiosity. More often than not, anyone who knew Vic was out here would keep quiet till he pa.s.sed by, then slip another chain or bolt or police lock into place with a prayer that, like the dark angel, he'd just keep on moving. n.o.body'd call the cops, either. That kind of thing could bring reprisals, and all most people in this neighborhood wanted was to be left alone.

Vic was wishing for the same thing, and wasn't disappointed all the way up those five flights of stairs and through the heavy fire door at the top of the additional flight to the roof. He found a brick in the corner just inside that door and propped it open. He figured somebody had left the brick for just that purpose. This could be Coyote's secret place after all. He could be up here right now. Vic hurried out onto the roof, almost forgetting to flash the light in front of him before he did.

The cold was much more biting up here than it had been at ground level. The wind was stronger, too, whipping wet snow into his eyes and down his collar. The flashlight beam was all but useless against this wall of snow. Vic kept it trained downward anyway. The last thing he needed was to come upon the edge of the roof by surprise.

The walls atop these buildings tended to be short enough to fall over, especially for a guy his height on a night like this.

Vic kept as close as he could to what he guessed was the center of the roof, but he knew how easy it could be to get disoriented and miscalculate his location under these conditions. He swept the light beam back and forth across what he could make out of the roof floor, which wasn't much. He might have missed the white-covered topple of cardboard slabs altogether if his boot hadn't hit the slick surface of one of them beneath the snow and almost sent him sprawling. He trained the light more closely on the mound of cardboard pieces. It was high enough for someone to be hiding under, especially a pint-sized kid.

"Coyote, are you in there?" Vic called out.

The sound of his voice was carried away so quickly by the wind that he barely heard his own words. He dropped to one knee and began sc.r.a.ping snow away, pulling lengths of cardboard clear and tossing them aside. All the while he searched, he was praying silently. Much as he wanted to find Coyote, he didn't care to have that discovery happen here and now. This rooftop was way too cold for a kid in a flimsy jacket, even under all this cardboard. Vic flashed the light over each layer as he uncovered it, all the way down to the floor of the roof, which had been kept surprisingly dry by the heap of dismantled cartons on top of it.

Coyote wasn't here. Vic searched on all the same, scanning the floor and the crevices between the remaining pieces of cardboard for any evidence that Coyote had in fact been here at all. Vic found what he was looking for in a corner of the tumbled structure, not far from the roof wall. The envelope was crumpled and much the worse for wear, and the paper inside was too. Still, Vic knew right off that it was Coyote's letter to Katherine and the Most Needy Cases Fund. Coyote had been here, all right. Now he was gone, G.o.d only knew where. As Vic made his way cautiously back across the rooftop in the wild winter night, he was saying yet another small prayer and speaking it aloud this time.

KATHERINE WOKE UP, as always, at quarter to six. She could feel in every muscle of her body how much she needed to rest longer. She'd never been able to lie around in bed in the morning, except once in a while on Sat.u.r.day. She was fairly sure this wasn't Sat.u.r.day, so she threw off the covers and sat up. She hadn't fully opened her eyes till her fingers touched the satin hem of the blanket. Her duvet cover was made of cotton, not satin. She stared down at the fabric in her hand by the light of the small lamp on the bedside table. Instead of blue flowers on an off-white background, the blanket she held was a deep-burgundy-colored wool. She gripped the satin trim for an instant then let it go. Where was she?

In an uncomfortable moment of confusion she looked around at a room she'd never seen beforea"a tall cherry-wood dresser, the wall behind it papered in wide vertical stripes of yellow with white bands edged in burgundy-red between the yellow panels. A pleasant rooma"a man's room! A flat brash on top of the dresser. A pair of black boots under the stool next to the dresser. The boots brought it all back to her.

Vic. Vic Maltese. She was in his house. She'd run here last night, after. Memory of the mined painting of Daniel stabbed Katherine's heart with a slash as sharp as the one that had slit the canvas. It felt like having that sweet little boy cut out of her life all over again. How could they do that? she asked herself, just as she had last night. No answer came this morning either, only the thought of yet another child. Sprite Bellaway. Sprite had been with her last night. Sprite was the reason Katherine ran here for safety and protection.

Otherwise, she would have stood her ground, dared the intruder to come at her one more time, the way she would have liked to dare Daniel's disease to try taking her on instead of a frail boy. But she had to get little Sprite out of there, so they ran.

Katherine recalled the screams that had woken her the night before.

She had spent a long time with Sprite in an attempt to settle her down. Finally, the child had fallen asleep again. Exhausted, Katherine had stumbled back to Vic's bedroom and the warmth of his double bed. Vaguely, :! she recalled an image of Vic in that bed with her, but she shoved the thought away. It must have been a dream.

Katherine stood up. She had on the same sweater and long skirt she'd worn all day yesterday. The skirt was a ma.s.s of creases. She'd have to go home and change. Sprite would need a change of clothes, too. It was a school day. Katherine had reoriented herself enough to the waking . world to be certain of that. She headed for the bedroom door. She and Sprite had never made it to the apartment on Ten Broeck Street the evening before as Katherine had a planned.

She'd have to take the little girl to Tooley Pen- ne baker for some clean clothes. An image of the chaos of Tooley's ransacked living room flashed across Katherine mind. She hoped she'd be able to find what was needed in that mess. She'd have to speak to Tooley about finding another place for Sprite to stay. Obviously, after the destruction of Daniel's photo and the note that had been left beside it, Katherine's apartment was no longer safe for the little girl.

She located Sprite just down the hall in the room past the bathroom.

A low-wattage lamp had been left on there as well, and Sprite was sleeping peacefully under a patch work quilt with a teddy bear clasped in her arms. Katherine was sure they hadn't brought the bear here with them. She eased the toy from Sprite's grip. The small, brown animal had definitely seen years of wear. One black b.u.t.ton eye was missing, and the belly stuffing had been pressed flat by what Katherine guessed to be lots of hugging. Suddenly, she knew this was Vic's bear. The thought of tall, tough, leather-clad Vic as a child young and vulnerable enough to cuddle a bear washed over her in a wave so tender she had to hug the stuffed animal to herself for a moment before resting it gently on the pillow next to Sprite's tousled head.

"Come on, sweetheart," Katherine said softly.

"Time to get up."

She found their coats and boots in the hallway closet downstairs.

Their scarves, hats and mittens had been draped to dry along the banister. Vic must have done that. She'd done almost nothing last night after arriving here except fall asleep. She retrieved their outdoor things from the bathroom and put a hand on Sprite's shoulder to move her into the quiet hallway. Vic must be sleeping in some other room Katherine hadn't yet come upon. Something made her want to get out of here without waking him up, some uneasiness she couldn't quite explaina"until she saw him.

They had paused in the hallway to don their coats, and there he was.

He'd fallen asleep half sitting, half lying on the couch next to his Christmas tree, which was still lit up with steadily glowing colored bulbs and slow, white flashers that flickered off and on across his face. Katherine remembered that same face very close to hers. The image brought with it a flash of feeling so startling she almost dropped Sprite's hand. Had it not been a dream, as she'd told herself? Had the kiss really happened? Katherine couldn't lie to herself. The memory of Vic's arms around her and how much she'd loved having them there was too intense to be a fantasy. And, with a tiny pang of guilt, she acknowledged that she had initiated the kiss.

Had anything more than that happened between them last night? She couldn't remember, and she was suddenly confused again, just as she'd been when she woke up this morning. This time the feeling frightened her. She recalled Sprite's scream, their mad dash to the bedroom, and what it had interrupted. If the sensation of Vic's kiss came back to her this powerfully, then surely anything beyond that would be even more indelibly imprinted on her senses. Still, she couldn't be absolutely positive. Her clothes had all been on when she woke up, but they were in total disarray. Had Vic used the kiss as an invitation to take things further? He didn't strike her as the type of man who would take advantage of a half-conscious woman. On the other hand, what did she actually know about what type of man he was? Katherine was tempted to dash into his living room, shake him awake and conduct a thorough interrogation on that subject right here and now.

"Are we going to get breakfast?"

Katherine had almost forgotten the child at her side till she heard Sprite's voice, still misty with sleep. She knelt next to Sprite and began b.u.t.toning her coat.

"Yes, Sprite, we're going to get breakfast."

The mention of food made Katherine remember dropping the plastic grocery bag on the floor of her living room when she first spotted Daniel's ravaged portrait. She could imagine the mess of melted ice cream there still. There was so much mess around her to clean up now, and melted iced cream was the least of it.

As she adjusted Sprite's scarf more closely around her face, Katherine sighed. She'd figure out something. She always had, except for Daniel. She hadn't been able to figure out a way to make things right for Daniel. She was determined to do better by this child next to her now. Katherine hugged Sprite as tenderly as she'd hugged the teddy bear upstairs. That brought Vic back to mind, and Katherine's questions about what might have happened last night. Just because a guy had a teddy bear in his house, that didn't mean he couldn't be a brute when the opportunity arose. She had no doubt how much she must have looked like an opportunity last night. Had he given her anything to drink? Could she have been dragged as well as sleepy?

That kind of thing happened these days.

Katherine helped Sprite with her mittens, knowing she wasn't helping herself by letting her imagination run away with her.

She couldn't help it. She was out of her depth here, far away from the safe, familiar, pa.s.sionless territory she'd inhabited with Daniel's father. She wasn't accustomed to running off to men's houses in the middle of the night, much less to sleeping there. In fact, running off was what she needed to do right now. She gripped Sprite's hand and was about to make a beeline for the door. She glanced one last time at Vic on the couch to be sure he was still asleep and she would actually be making a clean escape.

That was when she noticed the crumpled sheet of paper on the floor.

It lay near the curled fingers of Vic's hand where his arm hung off the couch onto the richly patterned carpet. A moment ago, her eyes hadn't yet adjusted themselves to the dim light from the hall sconces and the flickering bulbs on the tree. She hadn't seen the paper then, or felt the probably nonsensical urge to know what it was. Nothing made sense about this morning, anyway.

"Wait here a minute, Sprite," Katherine whispered. She really didn't want to wake Vic up now. I'll be right back. "

She tiptoed carefully across the carpet to just within reach of the piece of paper. She bent down slowly, without a sound, and picked it up, all the time expecting Vic's eyes to pop open and catch her sneaking around his living room. Fortunately, he kept right on sleeping, his breathing soft and even and unnervingly near as Katherine squinted to examine the paper in her hand. The signature at the bottom of the page had been printed out larger and more boldly than the rest. Coyote Bellaway.

Katherine took Coyote's letter with her as she tiptoed out of Vic Maltese's house with Sprite at her side.

Chapter Twelve "Dressing down and it isn't even Friday?"

Megan looked Katherine over with a wide smile. "Right," Katherine said.

Down was certainly the word to describe this morning for Katherine.

She didn't know whether she was angry or depressed. She did know she was nearly miserable. She couldn't keep Vic Maltese and their kissa"and whatever else they might or might not have shareda"from her thoughts.

"I'd like to think this new look means you're lightening up on that serious side of yours."

Megan was talking about the jeans and dark green chenille turtleneck sweater Katherine had on with her ragged-soled hiking boots.

"I was in a hurry this morning. This was the fastest thing I could find to put on."

Katherine was speaking the truth about the hurrying. Rushing Sprite to Tooley's for fresh clothes, making alternate arrangements for Sprite for that evening, then racing to the school in time for the first bell had been a challenge and a half. Still, that wasn't the whole reason Katherine didn't bother putting together her usual professional look for work today. She simply hadn't cared enough to make the effort.

"Did you oversleep?"

Katherine saw that Megan was watching her carefully. "Not exactly."

"Don't mind me. I'm only prying."

Megan sat down in the chair opposite Katherine's desk. "Don't mind me. I'm only clamming up."

Katherine was surprised at herself for managing even that much wit.

She definitely didn't feel either amused or amusing right now.

"Listen, Katherine." Megan leaned forward and rested her elbows on the desktop. The customary twinkle in her brown eyes had turned almost solemn.

"I know you've been through a lot this past year, and the holidays don't make that any easier. Maybe you ought to try to talk about what you're feeling."

"Are you trying to say I need a therapist?"

Megan' s face showed no reaction to the sharpness of that question.

"I'm trying to say you might need a friend," she said. Katherine sighed.

"I'm sorry. I must have gotten up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and I seem to be taking it out on you."

"Maybe you might try getting up on the right, or even the wrong side, of a different bed for a change."

Katherine nearly smiled. Megan teased her about her solitary life-style sometimes. It was a continuing theme of their friendly banter.

"How do you know I didn't?" was not Katherine's usual answer.

Megan drew back into her chair again and stared at her. "Maybe I should keep on prying, after all."

Katherine shrugged.

"It's not that interesting really." She hoped that was true.

"Let me be the judge."

Katherine wanted to talk to somebody. She just wasn't sure what she would say.

"Maybe later," she said.

"Right now I'd like you to take a look at this."

She opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out' Coyote Bellaway's rumpled, smeared letter to the Most Needy Cases Fund. She handed it across the desk to Megan.

"This was written by the boy we found sleeping in the mat room yesterday. Now he's missing," Katherine said. Megan looked the battered letter over, front and back.

"I hope he hasn't been going through whatever happened to this piece of paper," she said.

"I think he could be in some serious trouble. This letter is the only clue we have to his possible whereabouts."

"Where did you get this, anyway? Weren't you looking for it yesterday after Coyote took off?"

Katherine hesitated. She didn't actually know the details of how the letter had resurfaced. She'd have to talk to Vic to find that out, and she wasn't ready to do that just yet. "I got it from Vic Maltese" was all she said. "When did he give it to you?"

"This morning."

If Megan had taken that in as ammunition for her natural tendency toward matchmaking, she didn't let it show. She was dealing with the case of a little boy in trouble now. Megan always turned very focused, all teasing and jokes set aside, when a serious situation like this one came up.

The door behind Megan opened and Vic stepped through it. The sight of him took her so much by surprise that her knees felt weak, and she was grateful that she was sitting in her office chair. That kept her from making a fool of herself, and the wide desk before her helped her to maintain a professional att.i.tude.

"I was just showing this to Megan," she said, gesturing to Coyote's letter.

"I'm hoping there's a clue in there somewhere." She turned to Megan.

"Do you see anything?"

"Well, he's obviously a bright boy. He's pretty articulate fora"how old does he say he is?" She scanned the page, then looked from Vic to Katherine, who could see her friend's sharp, brown eyes taking in everything. Megan wouldn't be likely to miss the atmosphere of tension that had invaded the tiny office all of a sudden.

"Eleven," Vic said.

Katherine kept her gaze on Megan to avoid looking into his eyes.

"He claims to be eleven, but I'm not sure we can trust the details of what he says."

"Why do you think that?"

"He's straining to be the perfect candidate for fund money in there.

I can almost feel him trying as hard as he can to say just the right thing. "