The locals are on it?
Theyve been on it. They did a lockdown at the center for several hours. They questioned everyone there before letting anyone go. His car was in the lot, and there was security all around. Crow was quiet for a moment. If he was your average Joe, they wouldnt even have a Missing Persons report on him yet, but...
But its Richard, Aidan said quietly. He probably should have told Crow right then that Richard Highsmith was more than a rising politician to him. The reason he didnt was that he wanted the assignment.
He chose not to mention that he knew Richard well. He wasnt a hundred percent sure about his new position with the agency, but he knew one thing. He was not going to be pulled off this case, and while he didnt want to be dishonest, he wasnt going to tell his new supervisor about his friendship with the missing manyet.
Yes. And its hitting the news this morning, Crow said. Tarrytowns about an hour away from here
Less, Aidan told him. At this time of morning? Hell, yeah, he could get there fast.
Then go. Ill call your cell with any particulars we have. By this evening, Ill have a few more agents assigned.
Consider me gone. Aidan hung up, drained his coffee and started for the door.
They got me, my old friend. They got me.
He was going to find Richard Highsmith.
And the saddest thing of all...
Aidan knew he was going to find him dead.
1
It was a horrific sight.
And, bizarrely enough, one that might be missed, at least in Sleepy Hollow. Here, and in the surrounding villages and towns, images and effigies of headless horsemen were common.
A pole had been stuck into a mans likeness created from wood and stuffing and plaster and cottona likeness that ended at the neckline. Right where the Revolutionary-era jacket and shirt left off.
And Richard Highsmiths severed head had been stuck onto the pole.
It was bloody, and the midlength, salt-and-pepper hair was matted and dark. The face might once have held character and dignity.
Maureen Deauville stood with her enormous wolfhound, Rollo, and stared at it. For a moment, she felt as if shed been teleported back to medieval times. The breeze rustled through the trees and the sounds of traffic from the road seemed to fade. She might have been standing in distant woods, viewing the results of a gruesome execution carried out by some long-ago government.
In reality, she was on the street that bordered a cemetery to the west. There were houses heresome very old, some not so oldand a few businesses, including Tommy Jensens Headless Horseman Hideaway Restaurant and Bar. His effigy of the headless horseman, a good seven or so feet high, lurked on the roadside to attract clientele.
And it had been used to display the head.
The parking lot was filled with cars, mainly cop cars. It was barely 7:00 a.m. At least seven uniformed officers were there, ready to handle crowd control and keep the few cars on the street moving along. A crime scene unit van had just arrived and jerked to a halt, followed seconds later by the ambulance from the morgue.
Theyd begun the search for the missing man that morning, just half an hour earlier.
Youve done it. You and Rollo have done your jobs, Lieutenant Purbeck said with a sigh. Not what we expected to find, or hoped to find, but... He paused. But thats part of Richard Highsmith, anyway.
The blood was congealing. It had dripped over the crisp collar and seeped onto the shoulders of the white cotton shirt and blue jacket on the should-have-been-headless mannequin. The eyes were open in death, and crows and blackbirds lurked, waiting to attack. Even as Maureen stared up at the atrocity before her, a crow zeroed in, aiming for the soft tissue.
Weve got to get that down! One of the cops, a young man, new to the forceBobby Magill, Maureen thoughtgroaned, sounding ill.
Anyone whos going to puke, get the hell away from the crime scene! Lets get it covered! Lieutenant Purbeck shouted.
At Maureens side, Rollo gave one of his deep, bone-jarring barks. Maureen quickly soothed the large wolfhound. Good job, Rollo, she murmured. Men scrambled, as Lieutenant Purbeck said, I want a step...a block...something. We need an investigator up there. And crowd control! Someone arrange detours until weve got all this out of here. And I sure as hell dont want anyone around gaping and snapping shots for Twitter and Facebook!
Gina Mason, head of the forensics unit, stepped forward and yelled at them. Get the birds away! And then get some kind of screening set up. We have to preserve the scene! Can we get rigging and tarps around thethe Around it! Everyone will be breathing down my neck for trace evidence and Ill have to say we were defeated by a crow!
Dr. Aaron Mortenson from the coroners office had arrived, as well. He got out of his car and walked over to Gina.
Let the photographer up there first, and then Ill take a quick look. I wont disturb anything until youve had a chance to get what you need, he told her.
Mortenson was middle-aged, trim in appearance and always reserved. He saw Mo and Rollo. To her surprise, he nodded to her with something that was almost a smile. A silent acknowledgment that said, Work well done. He sighed loudly. Since its so early, thankfully no four-year-old saw this and realized the head was real. God knows Halloween. It might well have taken hours even in broad daylight before anyone saw that it wasnt just part of some grisly display.
She nodded solemnly back at him.
Lieutenant Purbeck came to stand near Mo, allowing the technicians and the medical examiner the space they needed.
He set a hand on her shoulder.
Im okay, she assured him.
Then she turned away, grasping Rollos collar and taking him with her. Hed done his job well. Too well. This was one search she wished she couldve sat out. Sooner or later, someone would have really looked at the headless horseman that stood outside the entrance to Tommys place. The police hadnt really needed her services. She actually wished that they hadnt called her; this one was a little too close to home.
Why my horseman? Mo heard. She turned.
Tommy Jensen, an old friendand owner of the Headless Horseman Hideaway Restaurant and Barhad been allowed through. The restaurant didnt open until eleven; his staff didnt even arrive until nine or nine-thirty. But, she realized, looking at his grim face as he stared at the scene, it was his horseman and his parking lot. She figured hed been called in.
He looked at her bleakly and tried to smile. Of all the horsemen in all the world...
Mo touched his arm. He was her senior by a few years; shed known him since she was ten or so. She recalled that the older girls had often teased him because hed been a big, awkward kid. He still liked to moan about his dating life. But now that they were all older and presumably more mature, the group shed hung out with growing up now frequented his restaurant. It was her favorite hangout when friends met up at night for dinner, coffee or drinks. He always took care of them.
Hed been born and bred in the area and was a true lover of the Hudson Valley. Hed owned the restaurant for about two years and it was charming, offering pool tables, dart boards and an enchanted forest for young children when their families came for lunch.
Purbeck turned to him. What time did you leave last night, Tommy?
Tommy was startledas if hed just realized he might be a suspect. About 2:30 a.m. And I didnt leave alone. I left with Abby Cole. We cleaned up, locked the place and were together the whole time. I drove her home.
And you didnt see anything? Anything at all unusual? Purbeck demanded.
Tommy shook his head. Sir, Im telling you, we were worn-out. Halloweens coming, you know? Were busy. We had to announce last call and practically shove people out of their chairs. When we finally took off, my car was the only one in the lot and...
And?
I didnt even glance at the horseman, to be honest. But, like I said, wed been busy. We had a lot of visitors and people were talking at their cars before leaving. Theyd been to the attractions, the haunted houses, the storytelling, all that. So...Im not a cop, but I dont see how this could have been done until the wee hours of the morning.
Purbeck released a sigh. Call your people. Were going to have this area closed off for the next five hours or so.
The poor guy! I feel really bad about this. Tommy frowned. But why did it have to be in front of my place? Oh, Lord, will anyone ever come here again? he asked, his tone dismayed.
Theyll flock into see where the head of Richard Highsmith was found, Purbeck said dryly. You can open, but not until dinner. He paused, glancing at the scene. Im giving my crime scene techs a good five hours. Until then, the crime scene tape stays up. Oh, and, make sure I can get hold of you.
Tommy looked at Mo. Dont leave town, huh? he said. Then he looked back at Purbeck. I dont leave town often, sir, so no worries there. Can I go home?
For now. Tell Abby well be talking to her and the staff, Purbeck added.
Tommy waved as he turned to leave. Then he stopped. Mo, can you come by later? He could be right about business being okayor people could be so creeped out, they wont come anymore.
Ill come by, Tommy, Mo promised. Im sure youll be okay.
She wished she believed her own words. But talking to him, encouraging him, was at least keeping him from seeing the head spiked on his effigy of the headless horseman.
Lieutenant Robert Purbeck walked over to her. Mo, you can go, if you like. Well take it from here. He sounded gruff and uncomfortable. You and Rollo were dead-on, as usual. He paused, rolling his eyes at his unfortunate choice of words. That came out wrong, but this whole thing is just...bad. Very bad. Are you all right?
Was she all right?
No one there was all right. But she wasnt a cop or a forensic expert; she was Rollos owner. She was an expert consultant. And, sadly, shed seen the very bad before.
Sometimes, more often than not, she and Rollo found those who were still living. She could proudly say that many a time they had helped save lives.
Not today.
Yes, Im fine, she assured Purbeck. But its not a picture Ill forget.
None of us will, he murmured.
She squared her shoulders and patted Rollos massive head. Weve found terrible and tragic things before, Lieutenant. And weve survived them.
Purbeck was a tall, muscled man in his late fifties. He could be a tough cop, but he was also a sort of father figure to her, and his expression was one of parental concern. We just discovered a head on a pole, Maureen. Here. In Sleepy Hollow. Thats damned...scary and disturbing.
All she could do was agree. Im worried about you, he said next. You live alone.
I have Rollo.
Rollo was huge. Standing on his hind legs, he was nearly six feet tall and dwarfed most men. He was one of the largest of his breed she had ever seen.
Rollo, yes. He might well scare the common car thief, Purbeck said. And, yeah, hes great at what he does. Hes not a bloodhound, not even a scent hound, hes a sight hound, but hes always right on the money. I guess dogs have it over us. He shrugged. And hes one hell of a companion. But, Mo, whoever did this is sick. Really sick. Im no expert on nutcasesand I dont think I have to be. This is He paused, searching for a better word. Apparently, he didnt find one. Sick, he repeated.
Maureen nodded again. I...I would hope that someone suffering from a serious mental problem, an illness, would be the only person who could do something so horrible, she said. She gestured around her. Most people come here because of Washington Irving and his short story The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Theyre intrigued by it, they love historyand, well, they just want to see the place. But with this... Someones turning it into an obscene joke.
Yeah. Some whacked bastard out there has taken the work of the first American man of letters and twisted it into something tragic. Im going to stop it. I refuse to let any more of this happen in our town. Im going to track down whoever committed such a...such a dreadful crime, such a travesty Purbeck broke off. I will get this bastard! he vowed.
Maureen placed one hand on his arm. People here were extremely proud of Washington Irving, and of course the tourist trade that sustained many businesses in the village of Sleepy Hollow and in Tarrytown was due to Irvings time-tested stories. She knew that herself. Like many who found their way to Sleepy Hollow, her parents were Irish New Yorkers who had fallen in love with the Hudson Valley. They hadnt purchased property in the area, though. Instead, theyd rented every time theyd come for the summer or other holidays. Shed been the one to set down permanent roots here, buying a cottage down the Hudson from Irvings Sunnyside. It had belonged to an older couple, friends of her parents, whod gone to Arizona because of the husbands severe asthma; they and Maureen had made a deal that was amenable to both parties, and shed become a full-time resident. Her parents, too, had decided to retire to Scottsdale, joking that theyd never again have to shovel snow.
While she still loved the citythere was, truly, nothing like New York in the worldshed needed to get away from the nonstop energy, the frequent chaos. And while she loved many places around the country, shed never seen anything quite as beautiful as the Hudson Valley. Yes, areas off a few of the main roads seemed remote and very dark. But shed bought what she considered the perfect home in Sleepy Hollow.
And Richard Highsmith, Purbeck said. Lord, why?
Neither of them had an answer for that.
Mo was hardly an expert on politics, but shed admired Highsmith. He was that rare politician willing to stand and fight alone. He hadnt adhered to any political party; he was an independent. He seemed to have taken the best policies and beliefs from everyone else out there. People loved him. He had plans for fiscal responsibility and he also had plans that focused on making equality part of the fabric of America.
Yes, he was loved.
But he was also hated.
And yet...