Waiting? Watching?
Rollo barked and, before she was prepared, hopped into a running start to reach the man. He nearly pulled her off her feet.
“Rollo!” she said in dismay.
But he’d already hurried over to his new friend. Mahoney hunched down to pat the dog as Rollo rushed toward him.
She followed. Rollo rarely disobeyed but she didn’t want to reprimand him. Not in front of Mahoney.
Mahoney stood up. “Pretty impressive dog,” he said.
“Yes, he is.”
“How long have you had him?”
“He’s six. I’ve had him since he was a puppy.”
He nodded, looking down at the dog then back at her. “And how long have you been out there searching for corpses?”
“I don’t usually search for corpses. I search for the living.”
“You’re not originally from here. Your friend said so.”
She shrugged. “I’m from the city. But I came here for years with my parents. Every year.”
“Why did you leave New York?” he asked. “What Grace told me—is that right?” These weren’t casual questions. It was as if he was daring her to say something.
Such as...admit she had special abilities? To connect with the living when they’d disappeared, gone missing—and to connect with the dead?
If that was what he wanted to know, she wasn’t going to oblige.
“I don’t have to live in the city. I’m a greeting card designer and writer. I happen to love the Hudson Valley.” She couldn’t help herself. “If Grace hadn’t said anything, I have a feeling you would’ve figured out I wasn’t from here, anyway.”
“The reason I suspected you weren’t really a local is because I am,” he said quietly. “And I would’ve remembered you.”
“But...”
“We wouldn’t have met, but I was thinking I would’ve noticed you somewhere along the line.” He looked her up and down, and she knew he was estimating her age. She didn’t think he was that much older—five to seven years, maybe. “I probably headed off to college when you were in high school. But from the way you’re so familiar with the valley and its history, I realized you must’ve been around here a fair bit.” He apparently felt he’d talked enough. “Where’s your car?”
“Down on the street.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“I have Rollo.”
“It’s all right.”
An argument would have somehow been more disquieting than just giving in. “Come on, boy,” she said to Rollo, tugging at the leash. Walking briskly, she started down the street again, aware that he was close behind her. She didn’t stop, and she didn’t turn around until she’d reached her car. When she opened the passenger door to let Rollo in, she finally looked back.
In the light thrown by nearby street lamps, she could see that he was staring up at the Old Dutch Church.
“From now on, let Rollo in by the driver’s side,” he said. “That gives him the ability to jump out and help you if someone comes from behind while you’re getting in the car.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
She shut the door and hurried around to slide into the driver’s seat. Starting the ignition, she saw that he was staring at the church again.
She didn’t wave; she turned the car around and drove home.
The roads were dark and quiet as she left the village of Sleepy Hollow. She came to the quiet road that led through foliage and trees to her cottage in the woods. Parking, she realized she’d done the same thing many times before, even at this hour, and never felt the slightest fear.
Until tonight. Now, the woods seemed to breathe. The night air seemed to dance. Malevolence might well have whispered in the breeze.
She quickly opened the door and let Rollo and herself into the house. The dog whined, and she thought he felt it, too, whatever was in the air. But he didn’t bark; there was no one out there.
Her ghosts were quiet when she entered. Rollo accompanied her as she went from window to window, making sure they were locked.
When she finally climbed up the stairs to bed, she paused, looking around. “I need a weapon, Rollo. Just so I’ll be able to get to sleep.”
She settled on the fireplace poker and went upstairs. When she lay down at last—Rollo taking up the foot of the bed—she was convinced she’d never sleep.
If she did, she feared, she’d have horrible nightmares.
But she did sleep. It was a matter of the human body giving out, needing rest.
And she didn’t have nightmares.
She dreamed of walking in the woods, clad in nothing but a white mist that swept around her like a beautiful satin gown. As she walked, she saw a tall, dark figure coming toward her. She wasn’t afraid. His face emerged from the shadows. It was Aidan Mahoney. He smiled, the way he smiled when he looked at others. She ran to him, the mist magical as it swept around her.
He was naked when she reached him.