M. Sellars: In the bleak midwinter

Besides, right now he could really use the distraction. The looming marriage proposal was starting to weigh heavily on him. It wasn’t as if Kathy and he hadn’t talked about it several times before, but this go around it wasn’t going to be just talk.

This time it would be for real.

It probably wouldn’t be bothering him so much if it weren’t for the fact that while she went away to college he had stayed here and worked. Now, she had a Masters Degree and he… Well, he was just a sheriff’s deputy in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Midwestern town. Sure, he was finally on his way to the police academy in Kansas City and a job on the force there afterward, that much was true; but even then he’d just be a cop, and she’d have those fancy letters behind her name.

He knew damn well she could find someone better, and that’s what worried him; because whether she loved him or not, like Sheriff Morton had said, she just might be smart and say no. He knew the comment had been offered as a joke, but he’d already been fighting with that very thought himself, ever since he’d picked up the ring.

Yeah. A mindless distraction would definitely help right about now.

4:31 P.M. – December 22, 1975

Bremerton’s Dime Store

Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

Premature darkness wasn’t the only thing Mother Nature had on tap for what was already going to be the longest night of the year without any help from the weather. She was definitely in a mood to show everyone who was really in control.

Before Deputy Carmichael had pulled out of the sheriff’s office parking lot, the leading edge of the predicted storm-turned-blizzard was rolling into town. As he hooked a quick right onto Grimes Avenue, heading over to State Street, clumped together snowflakes were starting to throw themselves against the windshield of the cruiser in hesitant, on-again, off-again bursts, driven by a rapidly rising wind. Two blocks later, the vacillating showers of frozen precipitation had worked through the series of spasmodic starts and settled into a steady diagonal curtain of the icy tufts as the official beginning of winter took possession of the small town. By the time he had traveled the last three short blocks to Bremerton’s, the snow was liberally applying itself to the landscape with relentless intent, building the first of many fresh layers upon the frozen foundation that was already in place.

Skip slowed the cruiser as he reached the dime store, quickly scanning for a space to pull in. Almost immediately he noticed a silhouette framed in the light that was escaping from the storefronts. The dark form waved and gestured toward the corner farther down. Picking up on the cue, he coasted another fifty or so feet, then flicked on the cherries as a visible warning before giving the steering wheel a quick turn to cut across oncoming traffic. Slipping carefully between the front of a pickup truck and the back end of a compact that was waiting to make a turn, he guided the cruiser through a hard arc and into a diagonal space in front of Evanston’s Drug at the opposite end of the strip.

Out of habit, he checked the time. According to his watch, slightly less than five minutes had elapsed since Clovis had hung up from the initial call. However, given the traffic snarl he had encountered at the Lake Street intersection, despite a quick burp of the siren to clear the way, Deputy Carmichael wondered if he could have been here just as fast traveling on foot.

He levered the vehicle into park, then shut off the engine and killed the lights. Bremerton’s was back up the street, on the other side of Sissy’s Florist Shop, which was nestled almost dead center between the five-and-dime and the drug store. However, before he even had the key out of the ignition, the silhouette had come down to meet him and was already standing under the awning on the sidewalk directly in front of the patrol car. In the yellowish glow pouring from Evanston’s windows he could see that what had earlier been little more than a dark outline was in fact Ruth Babbs, Bremerton’s store manager. Apparently she hadn’t taken the time to don a coat before coming outside, so she was now hugging her thick sweater tight, with her hands tucked beneath her crossed arms.

“Evening, Missus Babbs,” he said, nodding in her direction as he climbed out of the vehicle, only to be greeted by a cold gust of wind that presented him with a face full of the oversized snowflakes. He sputtered and blinked, then shoved his hat onto his head. After pushing the car door shut he walked toward her.

“Skip,” the manager called back to him by way of a greeting. “I sure do appreciate you coming down so fast.” Her voice sounded relieved, but what he could see of her face still appeared to be deeply creased with concern.

A tangle of voices was coming from the small crowd gathered just outside the dime store’s main window at the opposite end of the short block. Even with the distance and other background noise, it filled his ears with a muddy thrum, interspersed here and there with a random high note or two. Threading through it all was the unmistakable sound of a small child bawling. Given the combination of darkness, backlighting, and heavy curtain of snow, he could actually hear the people better than he could see them. However, that in itself was more than enough to get a general assessment. Even if he hadn’t been aware of the current situation, he would have been able to tell just from their sound that they weren’t there to watch the train, as would usually be the case this time of year. Their audible distress warned him that things weren’t yet resolved, and that raised his own concern by a notch or two.

“So you still haven’t located the child?” he asked, just to be sure.

Stepping up onto the sidewalk he came under the shelter of the wide awning that ran the length of the storefronts. Now that the oversized flakes were no longer streaming directly in front of his eyes he could see much better, and Missus Babbs’ expression was definitely pained.

She gave her head a shake. “No, we haven’t, and we’ve been over the entire store three times now.” She looked in the direction of the crowd for a moment then back to him and added, “Elizabeth is just beside herself. She came out front to get some air, but I’m not sure it’s done much good.”

“Has anyone called her husband?” he asked.

She nodded. “He’s on his way.”

“Good,” Skip grunted. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine, but having him here should help. So, did anyone see the girl leave the store?”

“Not that I know of.” She shook her head again. “They’ve checked all through Norris’s and Evanston’s too.” She tilted her head toward the entrance of the drug store as she continued. “Sissy’s was already closed for the day. We’ve asked around, but a lot of people were going in and out of the stores, so…”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Skip replied as her voice trailed off. “Well, let’s go have another look. She’s probably just hiding somewhere.” He gestured ahead and they started walking toward the store proper. “So, Clovis said you were the last person to see the girl?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“And where was that?”

“When she and her sister first came into the store. They wanted to see Santa, so I sent them to the back where we have the North Pole all set up.”

“Okay, so what about Mister Babbs then? Didn’t he see them?”

Skip made what he considered a logical assumption since everyone over the age of seven knew Missus Babbs’ husband played the part of Santa at Bremerton’s and that he had for what seemed like forever. In fact, there was even a Polaroid in his parent’s family photo album from back when Skip was a small child. It showed him standing next to Mister Babbs while the jolly man in the red suit cradled his younger sister on his lap. In the photo, Skip was clutching a candy cane and looking genuinely befuddled by the entire ruse. Even back then very little escaped his attention, including the fact that Bremerton’s Santa was really the owner of the sandwich shop.