But Mo understood those fears, understood those abilities, and she’d shown him that loneliness didn’t have to be his future. “We will get to the truth,” he vowed.
She nodded. With Rollo at their heels, they left the graveyard and the mausoleum and made their way to his car. They were silent as they drove. He found that he didn’t like the silence, that he suddenly wanted them both to be honest.
“How do you do it?” he asked her, looking for more than a partial or evasive answer this time.
“I wish I knew,” she told him. “I...I think of the person. I see his or her face. Then I build something around the face. And then...well, as you saw, Rollo really does have his own talents.”
“Do the dead speak to you, call to you?”
She winced. “Sometimes. At least, I think I hear a voice.” She turned to him and said almost desperately, “But it’s not always the dead. I find the living, too.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s a true gift, and if you don’t believe me, ask someone you’ve been able to find. Ask J. J. Appleby,” he added softly.
He hoped he’d helped her.
She directed him down the street past Tommy’s place and the little strip mall with the dry cleaners. “There,” Mo said, pointing.
The store had a very large parking lot, convenient for shoppers. The Halloween display had been created beneath a giant sign advertising wholesale prices, claiming they bought surplus stock of the best brands.
The parking lot was empty except for a few cars near the door. It was very early morning. The first of the employees were probably coming in. Later, mothers or fathers might bring their children to enjoy the Halloween display. It was well designed, with a witch stirring a cauldron as bats on wires flew over her head. There was a smiling vampire on the other side, one that resembled the friendly count from a kids’ TV show. And there were little leprechauns peering around the skirt of a fairy-tale princess. Dead center in the display was the headless horseman.
And, as Mo had seen in her mind’s eye, he now had a head.
Van Camp and a number of police officers hurried up to them. Aidan slipped an arm around Mo’s shoulder. “I can take you home now,” he whispered.
He glanced at Van Camp, who nodded. “I’ve got this,” he said. As Aidan started to turn, Van Camp said, “We’ll have the employees assembled at the station in a matter of hours.”
“Can you call me when they’re in? And keep them separated as much as you can.”
Van Camp offered him a grim smile. “We’re actually pretty good cops, you know?”
“I do know,” Aidan assured him with a conciliatory grin. “Sorry.”
He left with Mo and Rollo; it was time to get away from murder and death.
Full daylight had broken by the time they arrived at her house. When she opened the front door, she said, “I know you have a million things to do. You should probably sleep. But...could you stay a little while? I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be an annoyance, it’s just that...”
“I’m here,” he told her. Mo headed into the kitchen with Rollo. “Yes, you deserve a big treat, young man.”
Aidan called Logan at the hotel, describing events as he’d seen them the night before.
Logan filled him in, too. “We followed Richard Highsmith’s assistants and security force all night. Someone had an eye on them at all times. I’m assuming the charges against Jillian Durfey will be dropped by Monday morning, since she was nowhere near the latest murder scene.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Listen, I’m going to catch a few hours’ sleep on Mo’s couch,” he told Logan. “She’s shaky, and I don’t blame her.” He sighed. “Except that I should be going to the M.E.’s office—”
“That’s why we have a Krewe,” Logan said. “One of us will get over to the M.E.’s. Probably Sloan. And then I’ll head over to the station to start questioning employees. You’ll be useless without some sleep.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Logan. And whether they dismiss the charges against Jillian Durfey or not, I know one of them is involved.”
“I don’t disagree. But whoever that person is, he or she is working with someone on the outside. Someone who knows Sleepy Hollow. It almost sounds as if we’re looking for a historian.”
“If you grow up around here, you grow up with the history of the area. We’re proud of our role in the Revolution—and very proud of our literary hero, Washington Irving. Most kids go to the various historic venues with their schools quite a few times. But I believe you’re right—it has to be someone who knows Sleepy Hollow backward and forward.”
“Yeah, but for now, just get some sleep, Aidan. We’ll reassess when we see you.”
“All right, I’ll sleep for a few hours. My phone is on and it’ll be next to me. Call if you need anything at all.”
Mo was there, her eyes dull. She was obviously exhausted. And feeling guilty and in pain. In a way, she saw this as her fault.
“Mo,” he said sternly, “like I told you before, you couldn’t have done anything to save her.”