Page 10 of At Midnight Comes the Cry
“Does that mean what it sounds like?”
Lyle nodded and drew a finger across his throat. “Fired.”
4.
“So what is he going to do about it?” Clare unsnapped Ethan’s car seat harness and hoisted him out of the car.
“Lyle? Nothing.” Russ pulled the folding stroller out of the back and slammed the hatch shut. “Just because Kevin used to live and work here doesn’t give us—doesn’t give the MKPD any jurisdiction to look into his whereabouts.” He opened the stroller. “And God knows he doesn’t have the time or manpower. They’re short by two now—an acting chief instead of a chief plus a deputy and that unfilled officer slot.” He took Ethan from her and buckled him into the stroller, an unnecessary precaution, she thought, but Russ was a tad obsessive about safety. And she had to admit, the mall parking lot was jam-packed for a weekday afternoon.
“I should have hired someone when I had the chance,” he muttered.
Clare heroically refrained from making a face at this old song. “Okay, so Lyle isn’t in a position to figure out what’s going on. Why don’t you look into it?”
“Clare, I can’t do anything. I don’t have any jurisdiction either.”
This time she did roll her eyes. “Russ, you’re a civilian. You don’t need an official imprimatur to find out what’s happened to a friend. And yes, before you argue that definition, Kevin Flynn isn’t just someone who worked with you. He’s your friend. And if no one knows where he is, no one knows if he needs help or not.”
“Oh my God, you sound like Knox. She was gunning for me to hang out a shingle as a PI.” He looked around. “Which way?”
She pointed. “The main entrance.” The brief snowfall of last Saturday had melted away, and the asphalt was mercifully dry. “Do you want to know what your problem is?”
“Of course. Why else did I marry you?”
She whacked his arm. “You’ve spent your entire adult life, in the army and out, as a cop. You don’t know how to function as a civilian.Take me. If someone from, I don’t know, the St. Alban’s vestry was missing, I wouldn’t worry about jurisdiction. I’d try to find out what had happened to them.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “I don’t think you’re the best example.” They paused to let a car pass before crossing to the wide sidewalk encircling the Aviation Mall.
“You could at least go to his apartment and check it out for—” She stopped herself from saying “clues,” because she knew Russ would laugh at her. “Indications of where he might be.”
“How am I supposed to get into Kevin Flynn’s apartment without a warrant to show the landlord?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to break in, because I know that’s not true.”
“Laws just don’t mean that much to you, do they?”
“Not when they stop people from doing what’s right, no.” She opened one of the outer glass doors and let him maneuver the stroller into the foyer. A shopper laden with carrier bags paused to let them through the inner door before heading back outside.
“Okay, where is this Santa?”
Clare looked at the mall directory, sensibly placed near the entrance. “Santa’s Village. By JCPenney. Which is…” She traced the map. “Right here.”
They set off across the food court. There were a lot of shoppers, which made her wonder if she was kicking off the Christmas season right. As a single army officer, her holidays had been spent either on duty or with her family, and as a single priest, there was so muchChristmas—in the church, in the town, in her friends’ houses—that she never felt the need to do much of anything at home. Last year, for their first Christmas as a married couple, she and Russ had gotten a tree and strung up lights and it was all good, low-key and sweetly romantic. But she was a mother now. The huge Southern Christmases of her childhood had been extravaganzas of decorations and toys and gingerbread houses and caroling. She had loved them. It was only as a full-grown adult that she had realized how much grinding laborher mother and grandmother had put into making December a magical month. Maybe she was supposed to be out shopping right now, getting things ready for her little family? She frowned.
“Clare. Isthatthe line for Santa?”
“It can’t be. The store is all the way down…” Clare’s voice faded away as she realized the massive queue of grim-faced parents and children dressed in their holiday best was, in fact, the line for Santa. “Eugh.”
“‘Eugh’ is right. C’mon, let’s try it another day.”
“No, we have to get it done early if we’re going to send the picture out in our Christmas cards.”
“Pictures. Okay. How about a different Santa? There’s got to be one who’s less popular.”
Clare pointed to the end of the line. “We’ve already missed the Glens Falls Holiday Spectacular or whatever it is. Where else can you get pictures with Santa?” Russ opened his mouth. “And don’t say the VA hall.”
He closed it again, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s probably going to be an hour. If not more.” The line was a series of switchbacks between polished stanchions and velvet ropes, like a festive version of security at O’Hare Airport.
“I know. But we’re here, I’ve taken the afternoon off—let’s just get it done.”
