Chapter 7: 'We Won't Let You Run Out On Us Again'

Mistle began to feel a wave a panic rush over his body. His cheeks were on fire while his knees felt as if they were about to be knocked out from under him.

He transferred his gaze from Holly to Kayla and then to Ivey, and then back again, stopping at his wife. Things were not exactly on stable ground when he left two weeks ago for an extended business trip. Tempers had flared, things were said and Mistle’s prized beer stein—which he had purchased 20 years ago at a Pink Floyd concert—eventually laid shattered on the kitchen floor.

Man, she crossed the line, Mistle thought as he relived their ridiculous argument. That mug was irreplaceable. Mistle was only thankful the mug, on its flight from Holly's hand, missed his head.

His wife’s eyes burned into his. He felt her impatience growing. When she was angry, she often bit her lower lip. If she bit any harder now, she may bite through her perfect mouth. He realized how much he missed her.

Mistle tore his eyes away from her’s, unable to say the words that would follow to her face.

“I’m sorry, honey. I have to go,” he choked out. “I’ll explain what I can later.”

Ivey smiled in relief as Mistle turned quickly toward the car.

Holly was rendered absolutely speechless and Kayla was just plain confused. This wasn’t the first time her husband had left her on a need-to-know basis. His secrecy made her increasingly insecure. Her own father was a drifter. When he did come home, he always told these far-fetched stories of his travels and promised he would show her someday. That someday never came.

As the car pulled out of the driveway, Kayla asked flatly: “Mom, what the hell was that?”

Holly sprinted into the house, leaving Kayla still confused on the lawn with her father's luggage. She returned with her keys and grabbed her daughter’s hand, almost dragging her toward her baby blue Volkswagon Bug.

“Mom, where are we going?” Kayla demanded.

Holly opened the door and guided Kayla. As their seatbelts clicked into place, Holly found her voice again.

“We’re going to get your daddy back,” Holly replied. “And I don’t ever want to hear ‘hell’ come out of your mouth again.”

Kayla swallowed hard as the door slammed shut. Holly tore out of the driveway and quickly made her way down the winding street. As she came around the last corner she saw the mysterious black sedan about 50 yards ahead, turning right onto Lyndale Avenue, and head toward the freeway. The beginnings of snow flurries sprinkled the road.

Holly kept her distance. She didn't want her husband or anyone else in the car to know she was following them. She swept her strawberry blonde hair behind her ears and adjusted her review mirror as she prepared herself for the unknown. She had new highlights in her hair—he didn't even take the time to notice, she thought—as she merged onto I-35W South.

Up ahead, in the sedan, Ivey and his niece behind the wheel, Meredith, explained more to their bewildered passenger.

“I’m an intern for Frankenmuth,” Meredith began.

“The congressman?" Mistle asked. Meredith nodded.

“We received a letter from an unknown sender—I open all his mail," she told Mistle, her eyes shifting between the road ahead and the man seated behind her.

"The letter was written in German," she said. "I studied German in school so I translated it, and it was disturbing. It talks about some type of battle about to happen.”

“And it was addressed to Frankenmuth?” Mistle interrupted. "Did you show him the letter?"

“No way. I mean, at least not yet," Meredith said. “I didn't want to freak out everyone else. First thing I did was call my uncle. I figured he'd know what to do.”

Ivey chuckled into his beard.

"Kid gives me way too much credit," he said. "But I got to thinking this might be a bigger deal than this private-I could handle alone. And you're the smartest guy I know."

Mistle smiled awkwardly, still unsure of what it all meant. He paused to think about the letter, and then he looked at Ivey. They had done a hitch in Germany, during their days in the Marines, and Mistle had soaked up much of the country's history.

“You know, maybe there's something about Frankenmuth in this," Mistle began.

"The congressman is no terrorist," Meredith shot back, exiting the freeway at Burnsville Parkway and turning west. 

"No, I wasn't saying that. Listen, Frankenmuth translates to 'courage of the Franconians.' The Franconians are known by most as the Franks, a medieval Germanic tribe that conquered much of Western Europe by the Eighth Century," Mistle explained. "The land of Franconia is now modern day Bavaria."

"Whoa—this guy is clever," Ivey said. "He’s telling us something.”

Mistle looked again at Ivey.

"Well, I'm not sure he's playing The Riddler here, but—" 

“The letter stated that on Christmas Eve morning, he would blow up Western capitalism at the 'fall of America.' That's what he called it," Meredith said.

"Get it?" Ivey asked, rapping his left hand on Mistle's thigh. "We can only assume that means Mall of America.”

"That gives us two days," Mistle said.

Their car pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex. The tag hanging from the rearview mirror hinted that this is where Meredith lives. As Mistle, Ivey and Meredith emerged from the car, they were startled by another car that pulled up to a screeching half right behind them. Mistle exhaled with a groan.

Holly jumped out of her Bug, with Kayla planted in the passenger seat, a look of fear on her face.

“We won't let you run out on us again, Tim,” Holly told her husband. “You tell me what all this is or we'll be running out on you—for good.”

* * *

EDITOR’S NOTE: November is National Novel Writing Month, and we need you to help Minnesota Patch write a holiday novella. Here's how it will go: We’ll post a new chapter every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for the next four weeks, each written by one of the Local Editors from a Patch in the Southwest Metro.

Our Patch writers will incorporate your ideas into the next chapter. Take our poll or contribute your thoughts below for plot twists, character names or settings for scenes. Through a lot of fun, improvisation and unpredictability, by Dec. 16, we’ll end up with a finished holiday novella.

Our next chapter will appear Friday, Dec. 2.