Chapter 8
Ifound it near my front door in the early hours of the morning. The air was still frigid, and my world still felt empty—the days beginning to blur together in this frozen wasteland.
Another gift box, wrapped in shimmery red and green paper, miniature candy canes and gumdrops scattered throughout. I wondered what was inside this one. Maybe a body part? Something worse? I almost refused to check, horrified at what might lie inside.
I hesitated before touching it, my trembling hands lingering over the box.
It was so quiet, so still in my neck of the woods.
There were never any knocks or signs of the Xmas Day Butcher coming to drop them off.
They were always just there—waiting for me—ominously.
The only sound I heard was the faint creak of my floorboards as I stepped near it, a sharp ball of anxiety creeping up my throat.
I crouched beside it and lifted it; it didn’t weigh much. I brought it inside as I shut my front door behind me. I placed it on my coffee table and just stared at it, hesitant to see what awaited me inside. After some deliberation, I ripped it open and lifted the lid to the box.
Inside was another red envelope. I tore it open and read the letter that was inside:
CLUE #4: “Why did Clara go poof? In George’s house—find your proof. Check her room, or you will hear of Angela’s doom.”
The words were simple, but they felt like a blade being thrust inside my ribcage. “Doom.” What was the letter insinuating? That George had something to do with Clara’s disappearance all along?
My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of it. All the rumors in town…could they be true? Was George St. Nicklaus a secret murderer? Why did Angela need to suffer for all of this?
I stared at the letter for a long time. “Doom,” the word echoed in my mind, but it just didn’t make sense. I was so caught up in the idea of George being behind Clara’s disappearance that I didn’t notice the newspaper clipping that was also in the gift box, a second part to the clue.
I picked it up and read the headline: CLARA ST. NICKLAUS MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARS AFTER TOWN HALL XMAS PARTY.
From what I remembered, Clara had disappeared after leaving the Town Hall Christmas party last year. No witnesses saw her after she left, and no camera footage had picked up where she might’ve gone. It was like she really vanished, out of thin air.
George being behind it never clicked in my mind because he was her father, for goodness’ sake.
But who else could it be? Sometimes culprits hid in plain sight because they were too obvious to be guilty.
But how did the Xmas Day Butcher know that George was involved?
Is he just pinning it on him because he’s the one who actually caused her to disappear?
So many questions…I couldn’t take it. I was losing it. All I wanted was Angela back in my arms. I didn’t want to play some sicko’s twisted game.
I tried to keep a steady head and dialed Castillo’s number. I needed to talk to someone about this, someone who could potentially help me. Someone to pull me back from the edge of the cliff, to keep me from spiraling down into the hell that was my own mind.
She picked up after a couple of rings. Her voice, raspy from lack of sleep, cut through the blaring quiet in my house. “What happened, Lenny? Are you alright?”
I felt my throat tighten as I talked, the mounting fear strangling my chest. “There’s another gift box, Detective Castillo. It had a note—it mentions George’s house, and how proof of Clara’s disappearance is there. He’s threatening Angela’s life as well.”
I heard her sigh on the other end; she sounded irritated.
“This Xmas Day Butcher is playing mind games with us, Lenny. We cleared George a year ago when she initially went missing. This guy’s good at hiding who he is.
” Her voice was tense, and there was something about her tone—it sounded like she was on edge as well.
She let out a dry laugh. “This might be a stupid question, but you never considered any security cameras?” she asked, in a mocking tone.
I shook my head to myself. “I tried calling someone about that after the first ‘gift,’ but no luck in this weather. We never had the need for anything like that. This is all just insane.”
I felt the weight of the letter in my hands as I slowly crushed it, anger tightening my chest. “Why me? That’s what I don’t understand. What did I do to deserve this?!” I shouted, infuriated.
Detective Castillo remained silent on the other end. I could almost hear Castillo thinking to herself, like she was trying to figure out what to say in a crazy situation such as this.
When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, sounding defeated. “Without any evidence on who this guy might be, we have to play the game. I’m sorry.”
That just sounded like she was giving up because she had no idea what to do next. To be fair, neither did I. All I could do was follow the instructions of the letter.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I slowly realized that I might be doomed, and that meant that Angela might be too. I was at the mercy of a madman.
I took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself, but it wasn’t working. My jumbling thoughts came in and out like a revolving door.
Clara’s face, the Christmas party a year ago, the way she had just…vanished. Just like Angela, from one day to the next.
No one saw anything—no footage, no witnesses. She just disappeared.
I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but it was like a demon clinging to me.
“I think George knows something,” I said, my voice strained.
I couldn’t let it go. My gut told me I was right and that I needed to listen to the Xmas Day Butcher.
There was something in his house, something I needed to find, and I knew something must’ve been there.
Just like the reindeer earrings, it was a sign. “He’s hiding something.”
Castillo’s voice became stern. It only made the pit in my stomach grow deeper.
“Look, Lenny, Clara’s disappearance is not on him.
The Xmas Day Butcher is playing mind games with you.
You want to know what I think? I think she ran away because she didn’t want to be controlled by her father anymore.
She was young and reckless, and she had her issues—maybe she just wanted out—forever. ”
She said that too easily, almost dismissively, but she may have had a point—maybe that’s what had happened after all.
I didn’t want to argue with her further; she wasn’t going to be of any help.
I appreciated Detective Castillo’s efforts in trying to find Angela, but it just wasn’t enough.
If I was going to find her, I needed to do more—do things I normally wouldn’t do.
“Alright, Detective,” I muttered sleepily. “I’m going to try and get some rest.”
I hung up before she could reply. My words were a lie. I wasn’t going to sleep—not now, not with this gnawing feeling in my stomach, urging me to follow the clue of the Xmas Day Butcher.
“I’m going to George’s house,” I said to no one in particular. “I need to see what he has hidden.”
The thought of waiting and doing nothing was suffocating me; the growing unease in my heart because of Angela was never going to go away unless I found her.
I grabbed my coat off the lounge chair, sat in it, and slipped on my boots, which were resting beside it.
I had no intention of calling George to let him know I was coming; it wouldn’t work.
It needed to be a secret. I needed to go in and out to see what was really going on.
I was a desperate man, and I was willing to do desperate things, even if it was a trap. I had no other choice.
When I stepped outside, the chilly air sliced my face. My heart raced at the thought of sneaking into George’s house, but there was no turning back. I couldn’t wait anymore. I needed to go.
But then—a voice spoke out to me: “Come with me.” I turned around, panic swelling in my gut; no one was there. All I saw was an empty land blanketed with snow.
“Come with me!” the voice growled angrily.
I couldn’t tell if it was a manifestation of my mind or if it was someone in the woods taunting me from afar. I started to breathe rapidly, childish screams echoing in my mind, my head pounding with so much noise.
I ran back inside my house and shut the door just before I blacked out on the floor.