Chapter 11

The Taxi pulled up with a yelp from the brakes in front of Jennifer's childhood home. If she had taken a picture of the house when she left at eighteen and held it up to what she was seeing now, even though it was eleven at night, the entire area looked the same. The shingle on the lower front of the two-story house's roof was still flipped up and not performing its duties as required. Her childhood bedroom window still had the same fogginess to it, all the stickers she had applied and peeled off left residue all over.

The front yard was plastered with hard wet snow as were the pitiful looking bushes that outlined the porch, each side flanked the stairs and made the area feel significantly smaller than it was. Jennifer gently tapped the weathered rose shaped door knocker and waited patiently for someone to welcome her into the house.

It was not long before she could see her Mother through the decorative glass at the top of the solid oak door. She was stumbling down the stairs while trying to secure her robe, careful to not miss a step. At her age, a missed step could lead to a life changing injury and with her Father on the ropes, we did not need that. Take as much time as you need Mother, Jennifer thought.

The door creaked and popped as it welcomed Jennifer home. The door had missed her apparently, that is what Jennifer took from all the noises coming from it. Her Mother stood in the doorway shivering, "Hello my Jenny bug." She smiled an exhausted grin and waved her in.

Stepping into the foyer for the first time in over eight years really felt as if she had never left. The feeling was like how it felt when she went out for a walk at night and came in, standing on the patterned rug in the middle of the welcoming foyer.

They hugged, a long warming hug, "Mom, it's great to see you. Let us get you back in the bed and we'll catch up in the morning."

With an extended breath, "Certainly, you remember where your room is, right? Nothing has changed so get yourself to bed so you don't sleep until the afternoon like you used to."

Jennifer smiled, briefly remembering why she left at eighteen, "Yes Mother." She saluted her with a smile on her face and they went off to their designated sleeping areas.

Opening the door to her room, the door she had lived behind for so many years, it still stood tall and proud. Each divot represented some sort of schoolbook being thrown or an errant porcelain figurine bouncing off it. There had been many moments that life overwhelmed Jennifer and her solution was to hurt something that had no feelings at all.

The night began to tug at Jennifer's shirt, forcing attention and telling her body to hit the mattress and doze off into nothingness. She was not one to take orders on demand, but her body did agree. Climbing into the bed and curling into a ball, Jennifer quickly fell asleep. The comfort and safety of being home with her parents relieved her mind and refreshed her soul.

The morning came quicker than expected, as if the nighttime were a myth and when you closed your eyes to fall asleep someone controlling the show hit fast forward so you would have more awake time. Her head was heavy, jetlagged, but she managed to rise and quietly proceed downstairs so she could get a cup of coffee before everyone woke. It was only seven in the morning; early bird gets the worm.

To her surprise, both her parents were sitting in the living room, "There's our tired little princess. You almost missed lunch sweetie."

Jennifer smiled as she thought who the hell eats lunch at seven in the morning, "Morning Mom, Dad. How long have you been up?"

Her Father cleared his throat and stood, "Honey, we get up at five in this house. Now come give me some love."

With light feet and a quick step, she reached her Father and gently hugged him. She was very careful to not exert too much energy on him with his cancer prognosis and all, "How you feeling Dad? That may be a silly question but are you doing alright?"

Her Father let off a deep belly chuckle, "I am fit as a fiddle. Never felt better. I ran ten miles yesterday. Actually, broke my personal per mile record."

Something was amiss, "Jenny, have a seat sweetheart. Let us talk."

Jennifer rested her body in the chair and a half, wrapping her legs around so she was as comfortably postured as possible.

The television was on; the sound was faintly breaking each pause in the courtesies, morning news, always with the morning news.

Putting down her 'Mother of the year' mug she had from the eighties, "Well, we don't want to upset you or concern you. There is a very delicate subject we need to discuss, and I want you to wait it out with us. Do not storm off. Just sit and let me talk."

Her Mother swiped through her cell phone appearing to look for something of significance, "Jenny bug, the news has been non-stop talking about the murders in San Diego, you know, the Christmas Darling ones."

Jennifer nodded as she listened to her Mother slowly attempt to lay out the foundation of this conversation, still wondering where she was going with this all.

Her Mother continued, "You remember when Uncle David gave you that enormous blade for your sixteenth birthday and the huge fight it caused? That length and style of blade is what the San Diego police are calling the murder weapon."

It all coming together now, "What are you getting at mom? Dad are you on board with whatever the hell is happening here?"

Her Father nodded as his grey hair splashed with each momentum shift, "I am Jenny. Just listen and be open-minded. You're Mother and I sit around all day, we're both laid off from our jobs, there is a lot of time to imagine things."

Placing her mug down with a resounding clash, "Jennifer, your handwriting is all over the postcards this Darling is leaving at each murder scene. It is your exact handwriting. I'd know it anywhere."

With a quirky rebuttal, "Yeah, you know who had some interesting handwriting? The Zodiac killer, whom they never caught. They tested so many people's handwriting and never tracked down the killer."

Her attempt to deflect the topic failed as soon as her Mother pulled out a postcard, the postcard, "Well, while you were sleeping, I found these in your bag, the same exact postcard as all the other killings. I have got five of them here. Can you explain?

Jennifer's eyes drowned in oncoming tears, "Mother, Dad doesn't have cancer, does he?"

They both shook their heads; reassuring the fact that something uncomfortable was coming very soon. Her Mother held the postcards up the entire time. Her Father sat, legs crossed, analyzing Jennifer's body language.

Conceding defeat and taking the solitude of family for granted, "I'll tell you what, you're right. I am the Christmas Darling. The last eight years I have killed someone that the justice system set free. Every time I have done it has felt better and better. Knowing I am restoring balance to an extremely skewed world is the blessing I've devoured since I left here."

It was at this proclamation that the sounds of screeching tires and roaring sirens broke the silence outside. Megaphones bellowed through the air and the shuffling of feet increased in volume and speed. There had to be at least eighty armed police officers just outside her childhood home, each yelling something different but all meaning the same thing.

Jennifer scowled at her Mother, "How could you do this to me?! I am your blood! You created me!"

Her Mother stood and held up the cellphone she was vigorously scrolling through, "Sargent, you got all that right?"

An affirmation faintly came from the speaker, "Honey, Jenny, don't act self-righteous in this house when you are out in the world doing things that are not for you to handle. Plus, there was a huge reward on you and, as your Father said, we do not have jobs. Tough luck kiddo."

Jennifer yelled out, "Hey Sarge, were you recording that stuff?"

A dead silence fell over the room. Not one of them had thought of that. They would need proof. Now, this was not a get out jail free card, but it gave Jennifer some sort of foot to stand on. Certainly not a case breaker, not at all.

Her Mother grabbed her by the arm, "You admitted it Jennifer. You are nothing more than a common criminal. You are not my daughter anymore. You understand that, right?"

With a wicked smile, "Oh, trust me, I know that for a fact. I guess we will be sitting right beside each other in a pile of melting flames in hell for all of eternity. You are no better than me. I have a purpose; you merely have an agenda. There's a big difference."

A loud pounding shook the house, "Jennifer, Christmas Darling, come out or we are coming in! I'll give you ten seconds!"

Ten seconds came and passed as the two women locked eyes and mentally wished the worst on one another.

The front door, rose door knocker and all, burst open sending splinters of oak through the foyer. The two San Diego detectives rushed in with a bevy of U.S. Marshals.

What could be done now? What would be done now?

Jennifer was ready to accept her fate and face the consequences for acting as judge, jury, and executioner. Her time was up, and she was ready to accept that.