Nevertheless Nicolas stopped his Ford. A fork appeared ahead—just the right time to check his coordinates and make further plans. He pulled out a map from the glove compartment and spread it over the dashboard. So, if he turns right now, Malcolmtown is five miles down the road. Population 16 thousand. And among them, of course, there will be enough bad boys and girls.
“So, what do they have at the lab?” Douglas inquired after Rockston hung up. They sat in Douglas’ office, and outside the window the white veil of a blizzard streamed.
“Good news, sir. Near the nail on the right middle finger they found a hair. More precisely, a piece of hair. White. Now they’ll analyze it and get everything possible out of it.” John paused and then added, “Though it seems to me, it’s not what they think. I think I know who it is.”
“So who?”
“Santa Claus.”
Douglas sniffed loudly, but then understood that the trainee was not kidding.
“You mean, a guy in Santa Claus costume?”
“Exactly. In fact, I’ve had this idea since this morning when we investigated the crime scene. Blood and snow, red and white. Colors of Santa Claus.”
“An unorthodox association,” Douglas grinned.
“To tell the truth, in my childhood I was afraid of Santa Claus,” John admitted, a bit ashamed.
“Afraid? Why?”
“I didn’t like the idea that some odd guy could get to me through a flue while I slept,” Rockston said with a smile, and then continued more seriously: “And why are people afraid of ghosts? Not because ghosts are spiteful or capable of doing real harm. According to most legends, a ghost can’t do any more harm than a hologram. And nevertheless, nine of ten people would yell in horror at seeing a phantom of their own beloved mommy. So why? Simply because it is something otherworldly. Supernatural. And that kind of horror is worse than any physical fear. Santa is like that and it would be more logical to ask why others are not afraid of him, than to ask why I was afraid…”
“All right, excursions into psychology can wait,” Douglas interrupted impatiently. “Really, the Snowman dressed as Santa would explain why he entices children so easily. And a man in such a costume during this time of year doesn’t cause any adult suspicion, not to mention that Santa’s attributes mask his true appearance. Do we have any more arguments?”
“At first, I thought that red and white could actually be his fetish. But then I understood that it’s also very convenient. Blood is not visible on red clothing, at least, not from afar. And he, obviously, hides his victim’s stuff in a bag with gifts. The role of Santa is so ideal for a child killer that I’m surprised we haven’t seen this earlier.”
“Because this role has one big flaw—from the point of view of the killer, of course. It’s available only several days a year. And a serial killer, even the smartest one, is governed not by his reason, but by his needs. He can tell himself a hundred times that it’s reasonable to wait till Christmas, but if he gets an urge in July, he will kill in July. Our guy probably has a huge amount of will power… Or maybe he is stimulated by Christmas attributes. Anyway, well done, trainee! Damn, I should have thought of it myself earlier! But I guess in my childhood I was brainwashed by tales about good Santa… So, if you are right, that sample studied in the lab now is not a real hair, but a synthetic fiber.”
“Yes. So it won’t be too useful to us. At the best we will define the fiber’s manufacturer, but it probably can be bought for different purposes nationwide…”
“Then let’s return to the initial problem: where he is now. Your assumptions, trainee?”
Rockston understood that his professionalism was being checked again. He stood up and approached a blackboard where a map of New England was pinned.
“There were no new disappearances in Greenwood. Local police and teachers have already phoned around all parents who have white children of the suitable age. That means he’s left the city. Theoretically, in two days he could reach any place in the country and even in the world. But in practice he is obviously limited, as before, to those areas where snow lies. He could reach an airport, but flights are canceled too often now because of snow. As he has only one week per year to indulge himself, he won’t risk spending it in a waiting room. I can assume also that he in general avoids flying, so that his name wouldn’t be on passenger lists. So… he travels by car. We can be certain that it’s an off-road vehicle, but even a SUV can’t go fast in this weather. We know that the son of a bitch is very careful and, probably, won’t drive unsafely without an extreme need. That means, he hardly does more than twenty miles per hour on average, and mostly in daylight. It gives him about eight hours per day. In total, a maximum of 320 miles for two days. In the east he is limited by the ocean, in the south—by thaw. He is still somewhere here,” John traced an oval with his finger on the map.
“That’s right,” Douglas frowned, “in any of dozens of towns in this area. And we can’t ask for a stop and search of all Santa Clauses there. We have no proof, so we have no probable cause. Besides, we would become whipping boys as the idiots who emotionally traumatized children. Remember the teacher who was fired after he told his class that Santa Claus didn’t exist? We’re living in strange times, John. Once this country was the land of the free and the home of the brave. And now it is the land of lawyers suing for emotional trauma, defamation, and discrimination. Sometimes I don’t understand who won the Cold War. If we won, what happened to our freedom of speech? Why we are afraid to call things by their proper names…”
The phone rang. Douglas took the call. What he heard apparently pleased him more than the previous topic.
“Looks like, John, you were right in substance, but mistaken in details,” he said, having finished the conversation. “It is not synthetic. It is a human hair, from a beard or moustaches. And it was dyed. The original color is dark, but not black.”
“That means… he has a real beard!” Rockston exclaimed. “Perhaps this bastard thinks he’s a real Santa Claus.”
“Do you understand the importance of this news, John?”
“Certainly, sir. Nowadays, there aren’t a lot of men with Santa-shaped beards, either dark or not. And it’s impossible to grow a beard in one day. So, many people know his bearded appearance, and he probably even has it on his photo IDs… Since he isn’t gray-haired, how old is he?”
“About forty five. It’s surprising that he started to kill only two years ago… If, of course, we have found all his victims. However, these bastards don’t always start killing at a young age. Or maybe fantasies and pornography were enough for him before. We also know now that he is white, though that’s not surprising. Even nowadays black Santas are still exotic. Most likely, he doesn’t smoke and generally lives a rather healthy lifestyle… apart from his main hobby, of course.”
“He isn’t an actor,” John reflected aloud, “I thought that he could be an actor, but an actor can’t have a real beard…”
“I thought through one hypothesis,” Douglas replied. “Even before your idea about Santa—which, by the way, isn’t yet proved, though it is hard to think why else someone would dye a beard white. So, anyway, I tried to understand why he never had any failures. And I came to the conclusion that he understands children’s psychology very well. So well that he knows a child literally at a glance, even before communicating with the kid. So, most likely, he’s an experienced professional—either a child psychologist or some other occupation that deals with children, for example, a teacher… The first step, trainee?”