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“Sheriff, are you here to talk to us about the incident?” I direct toward Christian, when no one else speaks. Arik fidgets with his cane while Kieran stands, straight shouldered. The steady tread of the Christian’s boots echoes from behind, signaling his approach as if he hadn’t just caged me in. We share a sidelong glance and he clears his throat.
“If you gentlemen don’t mind, I could speak with her. I promise I won’t push too much.”
Kieran nods but keeps his eyes trained on him. There is tangible animosity between the men like spiderwebs in a dusty attic.
Christian stuffs his hands into his pockets, pulling out a notebook and pen then gestures to one of the settees. We keep our eyes on one another, unspoken compulsions between us.
Kieran stands watch from the entryway. My neck prickles with unease.
I’m not sure why I play into this obvious facade. There was no reason for Christian to be here, mere weeks after the fact I had arrived here. What was Kieran’s endgame?
“We’ve already investigated the sites along the small shore here and the database did not pull your records. And we can’t utilize the media…as that can be dangerous.” I didn’t notice before but Christian’s pallor had taken on a gray tinge.
“You mean, someone could claim they know me but have sinister intentions?” I focus on his eyes, because I know if I glance at Kieran, he could read what’s on my face.
“More like if there was someone seeking to harm you, they could find your location easily. We don’t want that, do we?” Christian offers.
“You think there could be someone looking for me?”
“It’s possible.” He looks down at his dirt covered boots.
“Do you think I could follow up with you when I learn more?” I quickly glance at Kieran whose arms are folded tightly across his chest.
Christian shoots him a sidelong glance, before replying, “I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Sitting there between the hostile gazes of two men who were clearly engaging in a conflict beyond my understanding, I know that there’s more to my arriving here than a simple accident.
THIRTY-THREE
Evening Hours
The main street of town has been transformed with faded, flickering lights streaming across buildings; old, disheveled pumpkins littering sidewalks and strange straw dolls are nailed across doors of businesses. Faceless children run by in costumes covered head to toe while the adults linger just out of periphery.
It’s a nightmare in waking form.
“The townsfolk really go all out for this time of the year. I never really understood their fascination with the Devil.” Kieran shakes his head as if he’s truly perturbed.
“They’re fascinated with the story of the cove, right?” I ask. The streets are bare. A few stragglers weave in and out of shops. Bells chime and a low din travels above our heads.
Christian needs me to find him. A natural encounter in a public place would eschew suspicion. And I can’t stand another second beside Kieran knowing what lies in those tapes and within the dubious visions my mind has shown me.
We amble by a ruined building, rundown with decay when a familiar streak of blonde crashes into me. I stumble and she reels back horrified as she notices Kieran.
“Dr. Lazarus—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Hi…Marisa.” She rights herself then forces a smile. “My husband should be looking for you near city hall.” Chloe gestures to a small brick building ahead of us.
I breathe a sigh of relief. An easy save.
“You have to go?” I ask Kieran, only to keep up appearances.
He clears his throat and peers down at me. “Yes, I have the honor of lighting the Devil on fire tonight.”
“Lucas is waiting for you on the steps. I think he said you have business to discuss?” Chloe prompts.
Kieran seems reluctant to leave, his hand still hovering behind my back.
“I’ll be okay. I think I can handle myself,” I assure him.
He seems satisfied with this and my muscles relax. When he turns out of view, Chloe drags me down an alleyway until it spits us out on the outskirts of town.
