Chapter Twenty-Four

“It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveler.”

I pound the shortcut through the yellow birch trees, dark shadows mottling along the ground. It’s sunset, a breath away from darkness. I focus on reaching Maple Street as quickly as possible, but it’s not long before I hear voices fighting for attention inside my head, one of them familiar above my own choppy breath.

Hurry...

So stupid to leave everything! God, what was I thinking? No wonder she’s been so nice to me. The journal was in the safe deposit box. It had been right on top of my other things! But it wasn’t there when I took the rest. Now it’s gone.

Bram calls me again, but I have no time to answer. I leap over branches, wincing in pain every time my knee absorbs the shock as my feet crunch over the blanket of leaves. The old wives know these woods are haunted, all the woods in Sleepy Hollow are haunted, but I get it now. Ghosts can’t hurt me. It’s real live people you should fear.

The sickening click-click of a loose bike chain is all the motivation I need to hurry the hell up. He’s back. And somewhere behind me. If he maneuvers expertly in the cemetery, he’s going to maneuver all the more expertly in the flatter terrains of these woods.

I cast a glance over my shoulder. Obscured by shadows in the fading light, my follower is back, a good forty feet behind me, wearing the hooded jacket again cinched tightly around his nose and upper cheeks, legs pumping pedals up and down. In his hand, a tight fist holds a wooden baseball bat.

Horseman! Where the hell are you? Dane!

Damn it! How great are these protectors that they’re not around when I need them most? I don’t need them, I remind myself, crouching as I run to pick up a branch, thick and heavy. I hurl it hard behind me. It lands far to the right. A young man’s voice cackles. It sounds like nobody I know, yet every guy in high school and college combined. I try again, this time running alongside the brook, picking up a heavy rock that can damage a skull if chucked just right.

I fling it hard with all my strength. “Get away from me!” I yell, hoping at the very least that someone might hear me in these houses I’m running past. Glancing back, as my feet pound on, I see the rock as it hits my follower’s tire and bounces aside. The mountain bike wobbles but regains its course.

Faster…

I pump my legs. No pain, no pain. I’m racing fast now, but my knee can’t be an issue right now. My irregular breaths beat in time with my pounding heart. Bike Guy gains speed. He’s about twenty feet away, but the exit of the woods is now within my sights.

I pummel toward it, the opening in the wire fence like a magical portal to transport me to safety. But the closer I get to it, I notice the fence opening has been sewn shut with wire. Cold hard truth descends on me like a python on a cornered mouse.

“No!” I slam into it, pounding with fuming fists. “NO!”

I glance over my shoulder, gauging the number of seconds I have before my enemy reaches me, when I catch a glimpse of his wooden bat barreling straight toward my head.

I duck, the whir of the spinning bat hissing as it flies over my head and then hits the metal grid behind me. It tumbles from the fence to my shoulder to the ground. I leap up, grab ahold of the thin metal wiring, and hoist myself over the top edge of the fence.

Landing in a squat, I watch the biker skid to a stop, roll back, and lift his middle finger at me. Whatever, shit for brains. I want to spit obscenities, hurl my fury at him, then realize he’s just as capable of jumping fences as I am. My gaze locks on the only part of his face exposed by his cinched hood—his eyes—clear and jeering.

A familiar neigh comes from behind me. I whip around to see a gray mist swirling out of nothingness and quickly become a massive, black horse and headless rider leaping over me. Cold wind whooshes over, blowing back my hair, as the apparition leaps over the chain link fence straight at my attacker. The biker fumbles with the handlebars but regains control of his bike just in time to ride off ahead of the horseman by a good ten feet.

I would love to stand here and see how this chase ends, but the horseman didn’t show up just in time only for me to stand here. I run off for Betty Anne’s, reaching it a minute later, stumbling up the steps and slamming into the front door.

“Open the door. It’s me. Open up!” I pound hard with my fists.

Footsteps shuffle across the wooden floor. “For heaven’s sake, I’m coming!” Her voice filters through the screen. The irony of seeking shelter from one enemy on the front steps of another slaps me hard.

The door unlatches and opens. “Move!” I shove Betty Anne aside, lock the front door, and all the windows at the front of the house.

“What on Earth?” Betty Anne backs against the wall. “What happened?”

“Did you take it?” I demand, spitting hair out of my mouth.

“Take what?”

“The journal. The journal that was in my mother’s safe deposit box. The box with my name on it, not yours!”

“My name is on the account, Mica, but I don’t know what journal you’re talking about.” Betty Anne is on the verge of tears.

I stomp into my room. The bed has been made. She’s been in here. Throwing open my closet and pulling back the art portfolio, I expect for my envelope to be gone or in a new position as if searched through, but it’s not. It’s in the same position I left it in. Betty Anne hovers in the doorway, fingertips nervously touching her lips. I open the envelope and shake everything onto my bed.

A quick inventory confirms the family tree, the photos, even the little sticky notes that keep popping off from me unsticking and sticking them so many times. I whirl around. “Something should’ve been in the safe deposit box that wasn’t. Did you take it? A book, something with pages in it?”

At first she’s shocked. Does she really have no idea what I’m talking about? Then, slowly, her eyes gloss over. She nods, leaves the room. I follow her down the hall to the master bedroom alight with two bright lamps, needlepoint frames on the walls, and lots of lace curtains. She walks to a shelf by her dresser, pulls something off the wall, and brings it over.

A moment later, she plops it into my hands. An old doll, a ratty thing with blond hair and hazel eyes. Uglier than sin. More beautiful than life. “Sofia?” I’m hit with a hundred memories at once. I caress her white dress and then look up at Betty Anne. “What were you doing with this?”

She flings away tears. Her face has turned a deep pink, and I think she might choke from not breathing. Finally, she draws in a deep breath and mumbles something incoherent. After another breath, she tries again. “Your mother told me that if you didn’t come back, I could have her. She knew you never liked her dolls, and I guess I was the only one who did.”

“This is what you took?” I want to cry, too. The journal is still lost. Or did Dr. Tanner just prank me and is now on his merry way to the historical preservation society to claim his half-a-million-dollar check? I scream, “Where is it, Mami? You can speak to me, can’t you? You can even show yourself, so tell me where it is!”

Betty Anne covers her ears. “Oh, honey, don’t do that. It’s negative energy. It’ll invite unwanted spirits. Let’s take this to the kitchen.” She tugs at my arm, but I yank it away.

“Are you sure this was all you took? I need to know, Betty Anne. I need…to know. There was something else. Something important.”

“That was it, Mica. I swear I was going to give it to you now that you were back. Oh, what have I done?” She shakes her head.

Silhouetted by the lamplight and in tears, Betty Anne looks old and frail. I feel terrible for yelling at her. Yes, she took Sofia without telling me, even as I slept in her very house. But that was it. That was her crime—appreciating my mother’s disturbing handiwork.

I look at Sofia again, stroke her hair. Uglier than sin. But Mami made it for me with love because it had my color eyes and my color hair. Slumping under the weight of my immense failure, I amble to Vanessa’s room and sit on the bed with Sofia in the crook of my arm.

Soft shuffling of slippers on the floor follow me. “I’m sorry, Mica,” Betty Anne whispers from the doorway. “I thought you didn’t want her anymore. I shouldn’t have assumed I could keep her when she’s not mine to keep.”

“It’s all right.”

“I feel awful.”

“Don’t.” I hear my phone ding a text message. I reach my backpack on the floor and check it—from Bram.

Can u meet me earlier? They’re shorthanded at holloweve.

On my way

I reply with a sigh. I stand, handing Sofia to Betty Anne. “Here. Have her. I wasn’t talking about her anyway.”

“No, I couldn’t, not after—”

“Take it.” I stare at Betty Anne’s swollen, pink-rimmed eyes. “You’ll take better care of her than I would.” And just as she’s about to squeeze past me in the doorway, I throw my arm around her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m just losing it.”

“You’ve lost your mother is what you’ve lost.” Betty Anne sniffles. “Yell at me all you want.”

...

Walking to Kingsland Point Park, I remove Dane’s business card from my wallet and punch his number into my phone. “To what do I owe this honor?” he answers right away.

“I was almost killed a while ago, and considering you’re supposed to be my bodyguard, I’d like to know why I was left to fend for myself. Or did my dad forget to pay you, too?”

His voice sounds less stern than concerned. “Do you mind telling me where you went? One moment you were at the coffee shop talking to Tanner, and the next thing I know, I lost sight of you.”

Oh. He really does track me. “I took a shortcut. I had to get back to Betty Anne’s house as quickly as I could.”

“Well, rule number one from now on is no more shortcuts. If you must walk, walk where the rest of the world can see you. And for clarification, I’m not a bodyguard. Yes, I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you, but my main responsibilities involve your mother’s case.”

“Are you keeping an eye on me now?” I scan the street. “Because I’m crossing North Broadway into Kingsland Point Park to meet someone, but it’d be good if you had my back.”

“Who are you meeting?”

“Bram.”

A moment’s pause softens his tone. “You are a stubborn one. You feel that’s wise?”

“I feel it’s safe enough. But if you are so inclined to spy on me, please do so from where he can’t see you.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you. And…I’m sorry.” I enter the park through the east entrance. “I’m very angry and confused at the moment, so please forgive me for going against your judgment and indulging just this once. He’s my friend—I need him.”

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “Call me if you need me.”

“Sorry, Dane. I hope you’ll understand.” I know he’s doing his job, but I have to do what feels right, and ignoring my closest friend in town doesn’t. I hang up, hurrying into the heart of the park. The light from a yellowing lamppost casts a shadow on the figure ahead, reminding me of Bram-Dad in my garden dream. Dark and intimidating.

Until I hear him. “You’re a vision. Even when you’re not trying.” A minute later, his arms are around me, warm and enveloping. “What happened? Are you okay?” he asks.

“No.” I grip his jacket by the sleeves. “Someone is after me. I don’t want to stay in town anymore. I feel like I should leave soon.”

His body blocks the cold breeze drifting off the river. I want so much to stay shielded by him. “Who’s after you?”

“Someone on a bike.”

He huffs. “You’ve just named half the people in Tarrytown. If someone’s following you, you need to report it to the police.”

Somehow I get the feeling that Sleepy Hollow police couldn’t care less about my safety. “They know,” I say. If Dane is informed, then Officer Stanton knows by now as well.

“You reported it?”

I pull away. “Yes.”

He smirks and caresses my face. “You’re not the same. You’ve changed.”

I push his fingers aside. “I’m just being cautious, Bram. You have to understand that.”

“And you have to understand that I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t you see that?”

I nod and close my eyes. I do see it, but I also thought my mother didn’t love me, and I was wrong. I thought my father would never lie to me, and I was wrong. Clearly, I’ve been wrong about a great number of things and need to wake up.

He squeezes my shoulder, inching closer, as though hoping I’ll take him in for a full hug. “Things will get better soon. You’ll see.”

I shake my head. “They have to. ’Cause they sure as hell can’t get any worse.”

Apparently, they can. Suddenly, Bram’s body goes rigid, and he spots something behind me. “What the fuck?” His voice booms through his chest against my ear, making me gasp aloud. He shoves me aside and charges toward a side street.

“Bram?” There, in the dark behind a slew of maple trees lining the sidewalk, sits the old blue Eclipse.