you want to talk later we’ll sort everything out when your father gets home, okay?”
Merrie nodded.
“Everything will be fine, honey. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m sure it can’t be that bad. Now… What say we get this shopping done so we can get home, okay?”
Can’t be that bad? Merrie thought to herself. If only she could tell because she just knew this was bad. And she knew that when her parents heard it they would think it was bad too. Instead, all she could do right now was force a thin smile and say, “Okay.”
“Can you do me a favor and help your sister with her seatbelt?”
From the back seat, Becca started to gleefully chant once again, “He knows you’re naughty… Santa Claus is coming… He knows you’re naughty… Santa Claus is coming…”
CHAPTER 2
4:01 P.M. – December 22, 1975
Sheriff’s Department
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
“… JUST a little past four in the afternoon and this is Rockin’ Ronnie comin’ at you from the middle of Cornelius Bremerton’s cornfield, here on K-I-M-O FM. Reach on over to the dash, pull out that tuner button, and punch it right back in for a lock on great music every day…”
The final rolling beats of a song’s orchestral drums were still reverberating in the background as the radio announcer voiced over with the station ID. He wasn’t joking about the cornfield; that’s exactly where the transmitter and cramped broadcast studio were located. Cornelius Bremerton came from the proverbial “old money” in Hulis, and he owned the small, local station as well as the land on which it was parked. If you wanted to get right down to it, the truth was that the Bremerton family owned more than half the town, and when Cornelius and his wife finally went on to their final rewards, their three kids would bicker over the spoils that were left behind. Unfortunately, their offspring hadn’t inherited their values or sense of community.
Once the tune finally faded out, the disk jockey continued, “That was a new solo release from Greg Lake called I Believe In Father Christmas… Wheww! I’m not sure what he found in his stocking that made him write that one but sounds to me like it was probably a lump of…”
Rockin’ Ronnie’s voice came to an abrupt halt before the sentence was finished. Somewhere out there he was still filling the airwaves, but not here. Deputy Addison “Skip” Carmichael had killed the engine of his patrol car, cutting off power to the radio.
Letting out a quiet snort, he mumbled to himself, “Yeah… I’d say that one was just a little to the depressing side.”
Shaking his head, he unbuckled his seatbelt and then popped the door and climbed out of the vehicle. Out of habit, Carmichael gave a quick glance upward. The sky was a gray drop ceiling that had been hung just a little too low, and it seemed to be darkening even as he watched, almost like a lamp attached to a dimmer switch. He allowed his skyward gaze to linger for a good minute, maybe even two. He knew that what appeared to be a flat expanse of cloud cover was really a pregnant winter storm, and it looked like it was ready to deliver at any moment.
Deputy Carmichael grunted, then started to swing the door of the police cruiser shut, but stopped mid-push. He thoughtfully checked the timepiece on his wrist and let out a soft harrumph. He’d been busy running errands and fulfilling some personal obligations for a good part of the day, so he hadn’t yet heard the latest weather report for the evening. What he saw above seemed pretty obvious, and while the fact that it was going to snow was a given, the accumulation totals were a different story. The way things changed here in the Midwest you just never knew, and judging by what was hanging over his head, he was betting they were in for something bigger than the three to six inches they’d been predicting this morning.
He decided it probably wouldn’t hurt for him to be up to date before going on duty. According to his watch- which he kept set to the clock in the office-he was almost an hour early anyway. His shift didn’t actually start until five. Since he had some time to waste, he opened the door wider, climbed back into the seat, and then pulled it shut. After shoving the key back into the ignition he gave a half twist to click it over to the ACC position.
The gauges on the dash came to life and the various engine status lights flickered for a moment as the seatbelt warning chimed for attention. With a staticky pop, the radio blipped back on and the announcer was rambling once again, or maybe still. You just never knew with him, but one thing hadn’t changed-as usual he seemed overjoyed by the sound of his own voice. “…ing up in just a couple of minutes. Hey, here’s some news. I don’t know if any of you caught this or not, but it seems Winter Solstice happened at around five forty-five central standard time this morning. That means last night was the longest night of the year. Or is it tonight? Who knows? Probably the NASA guys, right? But it’s good news for you night owls, I guess. And on the up side for you sun worshipers, the daylight hours start getting longer from here on out.
“Just for fun I dug up some info on this stellar event, so here are some Solstice facts for you stargazers out there. Number one…”
“C’mon, c’mon. Give me some weather…” Deputy Carmichael muttered.
“…moment the Earth’s axial tilt is at its farthest point from the sun, whatever all that means.” There was an audible shrug in the disk jockey’s voice that underscored the latter words. “Two. It is the official start of the winter season… Yeah, like the white stuff falling out of the sky starting around Thanksgiving didn’t give us a clue about that already, right?”
“Sheesh, Ronnie…” Skip grunted. “Quit screwin’ around. Just get to the actual weather forecast, will you…”
Oblivious to the deputy’s frustration, of course, the announcer was still ticking off his list of factoids. “…also called midwinter. Hey, what kind of sense does that make? Is it the start of winter or the middle of winter? Make up your minds, guys. You have to wonder if those astrologers are getting a little tipsy at the office party, huh?”
Carmichael shook his head as he grumbled. “Astronomers you idiot. Astronomers, not astrologers.”
“…And four: Did you know that in ancient Pagan cultures, the Winter Solstice marks the holiday known as Yule? I guess that means the natives will be restless tonight, huh?” The announcer chuckled at his own joke before continuing. “And here’s something about this particular Solstice: Depending on the year, they can occur either on…”
“The twenty-first or the twenty-second,” Skip announced a bit louder, and then let out a sigh. His moist breath turned into the barest hint of steam that dissipated as quickly as it formed. With more than noticeable exasperation, were anyone there to see it, he said aloud, “Will you just give the damn weather forecast, you turkey…”
Even though he was early and had plenty of time on his hands, Carmichael was quickly growing tired of the drone. He had little patience for unnecessary prattling, most especially if it was coming from Ron “Rockin’ Ronnie” Connelly. The only reason he even listened to K-I-M-O was that it was the only station that came in worth a damn, especially if the weather was rough. The other three on-air personalities he could handle, but this guy made him want to punch something.
Of course, part of his annoyance certainly stemmed from the fact that “Ronnie” and he had gone to high school together and hadn’t exactly been what you would call friends. Actually, that was putting it mildly. They had been more along the lines of archrivals, all for the affections of a particular cheerleader.
Of course, that was then, and this is now, as they say. High school was almost seven years behind them, and the competition should be a distant memory. However, it had carried on well past graduation, and though it had been moot for a good while now, time had done little to change his adversarial opinion of the man behind the drive time voice of the hometown radio station.
At the thought, Skip once again stuffed his hand into his jacket pocket and wrapped his fingers around a small box. He’d already checked a dozen times since leaving the store, just to make sure it was still there, but so far it hadn’t escaped. Even so, it made his heart thump a bit faster each time he repeated the motion and felt the container clutched tight in his grasp. He wasn’t exactly sure if that was because he was afraid it might be gone, because of what it meant, or a combination of the two.
