Chapter 15 The Dynamic Duo
Fifteen
The Dynamic Duo
Brie
My pulse hammers like a snare drum, and with every ring through the speaker my bravery dwindles.
I’ve never done anything like this. I tend to stay on the right side of the law—parking within the lines, stopping for pedestrians, returning library books only fashionably late, but desperate times and all that.
The call clicks. Before Willa can say hello, I blurt, “Meet me at my place—and wear a disguise.”
“What’s the disguise for?”
“A real best friend wouldn’t ask. They would just do.”
Willa laughs. “Alright, alright. Disguise, check. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“Twenty? You only live ten minutes away.”
“I’m at Mason’s. He had the night off.”
“Okay. But hurry.”
Twenty-five minutes later, my front door opens, Jason Voorhees steps into my entryway… in tan MUK LUKS. “Sorry I’m late,” Willa says through the white hockey mask. “It sounded urgent, so I didn’t want to stop at home. Luckily, Mason had this in his closet.”
“Really? A Jason mask?”
“You told me a disguise.” Willa rips the mask off her head. “You didn’t give me any direction. So I interpreted this as a disguise.” She waves the mask in front of me. “Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?”
“I’ll tell you what we’re not going to do. That is taking a trip to Camp Crystal Lake and partaking in a murderous rampage.”
“But I have the perfect mask for it,” Willa whines.
“Maybe next time, but tonight we’re going on a little recon mission.”
“Oh, shit,” Willa mutters.
“I heard that.”
She sighs and tosses the mask onto the entry table; it skitters into a glass bowl with a clink. “Well, I wasn’t trying to be discreet about it. Either way, the trip to Camp Crystal Lake and murderous rampage sounds more fun than whatever this is.”
“Hear me out.” I clap my hands together.
“Recon. We’re going across enemy lines to peek at his arsenal.
Since Logan bought all the good trees like the Christmas cartel, we’re going to scout his carnival to see what he’s working with.
I need to know his game plan so I can be a step ahead of him. That’s the only way I’m going to win.”
Willa plants a hand on her hip. “So we’re not going there to steal trees?”
Tilting my head, I press a finger to my lips. That’s a really good idea. I hadn’t considered that. “I do have a sled. And rope.”
“We’re not stealing any trees. You know what happens to people who go across enemy lines? They don’t get served charcuterie in a penthouse. You know this is trespassing, right?”
“Don’t think of it as trespassing, but as recon.”
“I highly doubt Vana will think like that when she captures us and throws us in jail.” Willa crosses her arms over her chest.
“Perhaps we can bribe her.” I shrug.
“Let’s add bribing a police officer to our list of felonies tonight. Sounds like an excellent idea. Much like this trespassing one.”
“Fine.” I blow out a breath. “I need to see what he’s working with, so I can one-up him.”
“Sounds more like an in-the-bedroom situation than a carnival one.”
“I’m much less concerned about the bedroom and more concerned about the carnival.”
“By the way, are we talking about the same Logan?” She lifts a brow. “I don’t think that man has ever been one-upped in his life.”
“Maybe it’s time someone,” I point to myself, “brings him down a peg or two.”
Willa sighs and tugs the mask back on, the elastic snapping around her head.
“Okay. I’m here. In disguise. Ready to commit medium crimes.
What’s the plan?” She plops down on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest and leg over her knee.
Her foot bounces as she waits for instructions.
If this weren’t important, I’d laugh at how ridiculous she looks.
“Jump in my SUV, and I’ll fill you in.”
She groans. “But I just sat down.” Her foot thumps to the floor, and she peels herself off the cushion. “What’s your disguise, anyway?”
Reaching behind the armchair, I grab a mask and tug it on. “This.” I vogue pose as the mask flops around on my face.
“Betty White! Our Golden Girls party was so much fun!”
“I never thought I’d get to wear it again, but here we are.” I pull open the front door, and Willa passes through.
“Betty and Jason. The dynamic duo,” she says over her shoulder.
Down the road from Logan’s carnival, I park my SUV in a partially plowed field entrance.
I turn off the engine, and we both step out into the dark, snowy night.
We creep down the desolate road with nothing but the moon reflecting off the snow to light our path.
Willa comes to a halt when we reach the chained entrance.
“Follow me. We’ll go along the ditch until we reach the tree line, there’s a gap near the fence line we can crawl through.”
“Great plan, but you know they’ll be able to see our footprints in the snow.”
“I’m going to start the path. You follow in my footprints.
Then on our way out, we’ll take the same path and brush snow into the holes.
” I wave a hand in a come-here motion. “Follow me.” On my first step, my boot sinks down to my ankle.
With all my weight, the snowy ground gives, and I sink to my shin.
Well, this is deeper than I was expecting.
With another step, I sink past my knee. After a few more high steps, I glance over my shoulder, and Willa has disappeared. Jason Vorhees is a terrible wingman.
“Or,” Willa says cheerfully, standing in the wide-open gate, “we could use this thing called an entrance. It wasn’t even locked.”
On wobbly legs, I backtrack my steps while stopping to shovel snow into the hole with my mitten-covered hand. Once I reach clear ground, I brush the snow off my pants, boots, and mittens. Rising to my full height, I stroll past Willa. “Gate it is. Let’s do some recon.”
We tiptoe along rows of vendor huts in various states of almost finished. We pass a trio of firepits circled with log stools.
“He has a s’mores lodge,” I hiss. “With log seating.”
Willa squints. “And logs are bad because…?”
“Because they’re charming,” I snap, and dammit, why didn’t I think to use logs? They’re so much more rustic than my benches.
In the distance, moonlight ricochets off a display of Christmas decorations. I quicken my steps to a trot. When the shapes take form, it hits me. They’re like the Rolls Royce of light-up decorations. I gasp. “How in the hell did he get those? They’ve been back-ordered for the last four years.”
Willa comes to a stop next to me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I rip off my Betty White mask and pass it to Willa. “Those reindeer.” I point to the patch of snow a few feet from the path. “They’re all animatronic with top-of-the-line LEDs that work in any condition, even underwater.”
“You’re orgasming over Christmas lights, aren’t you?”
“A little. I need a closer look.” I hurdle the snowbank, and my boots press into the freshly fallen snow.
“Sure,” she mutters. “Leave an obvious boot trail directly to the crime scene.”
“I’ll be sure to cover my tracks on my way out.”
“That won’t be any better.”
Up close, the lead reindeer gleams like a frosted dream.
I stroke its neck with reverent fingers.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, “and so much bigger in person.” I circle around while admiring the front.
The toe of my boot catches on a jagged rock, and I tumble forward.
My arms flail wildly, smack into something hard, and a sickening snap crackles through the air.
Snow puffs up as I crash into the powder.
Seconds later, it sprinkles down on me. I blink, shake the snow off, and look up just in time to watch the reindeer’s head fall delicately onto my lap.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” I sit up and hoist the decapitated head in the air.
A vise locks around my chest. In my hands is a four-thousand-dollar light-up reindeer head.
Technically, since it’s only the head, it would be worth only one thousand, three hundred and thirty-three dollars. Either way, it’s expensive.
“That would be a lot scarier if it were a real deer’s head,” Willa says from the pathway.
I scramble to my feet with the broken deer’s head in my trembling hands. I jerk my gaze to Willa. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tape or glue with you?”
She shoves her hands in her pockets. “I have some gum.” She holds a paper package in the air.
Chew a bunch of gum and use it as an adhesive?
My lips press together. Unfortunately, I’m not MacGyver so that’s out.
I hoist the deer’s head in place, but it’s too dark to see anything.
Dodging shards of metal and plastic, I search for a spot to join the two pieces.
At the base of the neck, I wedge a few stray plastic tabs into place.
Once secure, I remove my hands with the tenderness of a bomb tech and hold my breath.
Any slight breeze could cause the head to drop.
After a few seconds, it holds. I exhale a deep breath.
The right-side dips before it plops into the snow.
“Dammit.” I retrieve it from the ground and, instead of trying to fasten it to the body again, I tuck it under my arm.
“Are you taking a souvenir?” Willa holds out her hand and helps me through the snow and onto the path.
“It won’t stay. Maybe he won’t notice.”
“He won’t notice a deer is missing its head?”
“He has five others. I don’t know how observant he is. At this moment, I’m reacting first and thinking later. I’ll figure it out.” We continue to sneak down the path that leads toward the back of the carnival.
“I get to add breaking and entering and stealing to my resume,” Willa says.
“If you want to get technical, you’re only an accomplice in the stealing.”
“Oh, even better.”
The path curls toward the far corner of the grounds where something smooth and pale gleams in front of the tree line.
I stop dead in my tracks. “What’s that?”
Willa continues past me until she realizes she’s alone. She spins to face me and turns to where I’m pointing. “Is it some sort of building?”
I rush forward, and Willa’s hot on my heels. We round the last corner and an oval of ice stretches before us with bleachers flanking two sides
“Son of a bitch. He has an ice rink.” My shoulders drop. “Why didn’t I think of an ice rink? What is a Christmas festival without an ice rink?”
Not only do I have a decapitated reindeer head tucked under my arm that I need to contend with, but now I have to compete with an ice rink. Bah humbug.