Candy Cain Kills by Brian McAuley

Author:Brian McAuley
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781959565208
Publisher: Shortwave Media

Half of Greg’s mind is in the station wagon, carefully navigating the snowy road toward town, but the other half is back at that house with his wife.

Despite all the setbacks, or maybe because of them, his plan actually worked. The spark was relit, he felt it in their kiss. In the grand scheme of things, one kiss might not be much, but it was a start. Enough to nurture back into a roaring flame.

Rolling down Main Street, it occurs to him that Nodland is the perfect name for such a sleepy town. Only a few side streets are visible with a smattering of homes. The church spire looms above as Greg follows the address on Brock’s card, finding the little brick building just past the diner.

He hops out of the car, hoping it’s not too late to call on the sheriff. It’s never too late to call on a sheriff, right? That’s what they’re there for. He presses the intercom buzzer and peers through the glass window into the darkened office. It sure doesn’t look like anybody’s here.

“Brock here.” The gruff voice rattles the old plastic speaker.

“Uh, hi, Sheriff. I’m sorry to bother you so late. This is Greg Werner, we met at the diner tonight? We’re the family renting the old Thornton house?”

“Of course, I remember. Storm knock out your phone line?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“That’ll happen.”

“Well, we found something in the house and. . . I think you’re going to want to see this video, sir.”

A gust of wind blows dusty snow across the sidewalk.

“Be down in five.”

Down?

Greg takes a step back and looks up to the small window above the station, where a light flicks on. Less than five minutes later, the fluorescent lights sputter to life in the station. Brock’s coming from another entrance, fully dressed in his uniform as he opens the front door just wide enough for Greg to squeeze through.

“Let’s get you in out of that cold.”

“Thank you.” Greg welcomes the warmth inside, unzipping his coat. “You live above the station?”

“Never too far from duty. Coffee?”

“No, thank you.” Greg holds up the camcorder. “I really just wanted to get this to you, maybe use your phone?”

“Well, I’m gonna need some coffee.” Brock heads toward the coffee machine against the far wall. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable.”

Greg lowers into the chair in front of the desk. He plucks a picture frame and looks at a photo of Brock shaking hands with Pastor Wendell on the church altar. “Special occasion?”

“My confirmation ceremony.” Brock scoops coffee grounds into the basket. “Every public servant in Nodland is elected by the church community. Divine duty, you might say.” He snaps the basket shut, flips the switch.

Greg’s never been one for organized religion, but he keeps that to himself. “Must be a good gig, policing a quiet town like this one.”

“As Paul said to the Thessalonians: ‘Aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands.’” Brock looks down at his own big mitts, as if contemplating some past labor.

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