Mid-thirties? Van Camp murmured. Attractive, good bone structure. It doesnt appear that any of the bones in the face were broken or disturbed.
No bruises or contusions. Naturally, the skin is somewhat...
Yeah, Van Camp said.
You recognize her, by any chance? Aidan asked him.
Van Camp shook his head. No. And I guess we cant be a hundred percent sure if this head goes with the body by the vault until...until the M.E. puts her together.
The two men scrambled down; the police photographer got into position to take more pictures. Members of the crime scene unit assembled to search for trace evidence.
Aidan rejoined Purbeck. The man just stared at the display. He shook his head. You know what our murder rate is around here? Practically zero.
Doesnt help that were close to Halloween, Voorhaven said.
That was probably true. There were few places in the country to rival the Sleepy Hollow area for Halloween. It came complete with the rolling hills, brooks, fog and spooky woods that first gave rise to legends and then to the stories written by the first American recognized as a great writer by the European community. So there were a zillion haunted venues: haunted houses, haunted hayrides, haunted happenings. Usually, it was an entertaining and commercially successful timeand the merchants were in a frenzy of happiness.
And the headless horseman reigned supreme.
Whoever did this has to be stopped. Fast, Van Camp said.
Van Camp, I need you and Voorhaven to go to the station with Special Agent Mahoney. Get him up to speed on everything. Mahoney, youre alone on this? Purbeck asked him, apparently puzzled.
Aidan hesitated. It wasnt that he couldnt be a team player; he usually enjoyed working with others. True, he wasnt completely familiar or completely comfortable with his new team yet. But he trusted that would happen in time.
Everyone wanted a trusted coworker at his back.
Still, he was well aware that he didnt work like most agents. Sometimes his methods of investigation were...different.
Just as hed heard that the agents in the Krewe had what might be considered different methods of investigation.
His methods workedand that was why, he assumed, his superiors had decided to make use of him in a way that brought about results.
Well bring in more people, Im sure, Aidan said. When necessary.
Nice. Seems they give the locals some respect, Voorhaven muttered sarcastically.
Aidan looked squarely at the man. Detective, Im here because Lieutenant Purbeck called my office. Because, thank God, there arent many murders in this area. I was sent because I grew up here. More than that, I grew up here with friendsone of whom was Richard Highsmith. I know how the man thought. I know his habits, his virtues and his weaknesses. Im not here to step on toes. But Im going to get whoever murdered my friend. He realized that, without really thinking about it, hed made the decision to disclose his relationship with Richard to these policemen, even though he hadnt yet told Jackson Crow.
Voorhaven stared at him awkwardly. I, uh, Im sorry. By all accounts, Highsmith was a really good man.
Aidan nodded. Yeah. He looked at the headless horseman effigywith its head. And now we have a Jane Doe and she might have been a good person, too, and if not...well, shes still entitled to the very best law enforcement can give her. So, Im willing to do anything it takes to get to the bottom of this.
Of course, Voorhaven said.
The kid just got his shield a year ago, Van Camp told Aidan. Hell learn. When youve been around long enough and you see something like this, youre happy to accept whatever assistance you can get.
Aidan nodded.
So, now weve kissed and made up, Purbeck said. Good. You two, give the nice Fed anything he needs or wants, okay?
You got it, yeah, sure, of course, Voorhaven said.
Aidan looked across the street.
Mo Deauville was still there, Rollo at her side. She was watching them.
Purbeck raised a hand in a gesture of thanks or farewell or both.
She waved in return. For a moment, the wind caught her hair and lifted it around her. The Cousin Itt comparison no longer seemed the least bit apt and he wondered why it had ever occurred to him. She might have been wearing a trench coat, but she suddenly created an image in his mind. He pictured her as an ancient warrior princess. A Viking goddess, maybe.
A moment later, she was gone, but the image lingered.
* * *
Mo moved through the different cemeteries until she reached her point of arrival that morningstreet parking by the Old Dutch Church.
Rollo trotted obediently along. She thought she shouldve put on his service-dog vest, since dogs werent really allowed in some of the places she walked through to get where she was going. But it was a Thursday morning, and although there were a few people in the various historical cemeteries and burying grounds, she remained at a distance and no one bothered her. Still, she did hear a few people exclaim what a beautiful dog Rollo was and, one girl squeaked that there was a woman walking around with a pony.
She pretended not to hear any of it as she made her way back to the car. Everything shed seen that morning seemed to be imprinted on her mind.
The scenes shed witnessed werent easy to forget.
Remember, Rollo? We figured it would be such a lark, living here! Mo said aloud.
Rollo let out a deep, rich woof, as if he understood.
Shed worked with the police for a long time. First in New York City and thenwhen she moved out herewith the county.
Fortunately, she could live wherever she wanted. She had a freelance career and was lucky enough to have a nice contract with a greeting card company. Many of her cards were e-cards, but many were also constructed of paper. Her company was actually based not too far away, in Connecticut, and she drove over for meetings once a month. Other than that, she worked on the internet and with graphic programs. She produced her paper creations by hand and on her own time, which allowed for her sideline of finding the lost and missing with Purbeck and Rollo.
Purbeck called her whenever a child went missing in the woods, and she and Rollo would find that child. It wasnt always children. The last time shed been called out, Mr. Husseldorfone hundred and two, and looking forward to his next birthdayhad wandered out of his nursing home. Shed found him down by one of the brooks, fishing without a pole. But the expression on his face and his every movement showed her that in his mind he was fishing.
Shed left the city because she preferred to find the living. In the city, it seemed, she too often found the dead.
But then, that was her real talent, wasnt it?
Arriving at her car, Mo opened the door for Rollo to hop into the front, then walked around and slid into the drivers seat. Technically, she was in Tarrytown and not Sleepy Hollow. There were signs that announced when you actually reached Sleepy Hollow.
She loved her home. It was right on a little twist on the river. She could stand in her backyard and see Sunnyside, the home where Washington Irving had lived for many years, and where hed died. And sometimes, looking across the river, she could see him. He was older; he walked with a cane. But he was tall and lean, an extremely attractive older man. Sometimes, when a train went by, he lifted his cane as if cursing it.
She loved her home. It was right on a little twist on the river. She could stand in her backyard and see Sunnyside, the home where Washington Irving had lived for many years, and where hed died. And sometimes, looking across the river, she could see him. He was older; he walked with a cane. But he was tall and lean, an extremely attractive older man. Sometimes, when a train went by, he lifted his cane as if cursing it.
Everyone in the area knew how much hed hated it when the tracks had gone in. The trains blocked his view of the river when they went by, creating a nuisance with their horns and whistles and noise, day and night. After all, the writer had purchased Sunnyside because he loved peace and quiet. Hed added rocks to his stream so he could better hear the rush of the water and hed built up a mound in front of his cottage so it wasnt easily seen when visitorsor the curiousarrived via the road.
Well, Rollo, she murmured, why do you think you and I live in a cottage and not a house? It means Im going to have to look that up, the difference between a cottage and a house.
Rollo had no answer, other than a wriggle in the passenger seat. She assumed he was trying to wag his tail, but he barely fit in the car.
Her home was surrounded by trees and stood about a quarter of a mile off the road.
It had always astonished her that you could leave New York City and less than an hour later, youd reach a countryside of hills and vales and streams and trees. The wonder of it had been with her from the time she was a child.
She parked beneath the porte cochere at the side of her cottage. Once, the parking spot had been a carriage drop. She hadnt closed it in, although sometimes, in the dead of winter, she ended up scraping a lot of ice off her windshield. She just couldnt bring herself to add clunky garage doors to a spot that was so lovely.
Rollo went bounding out of the car, ready to find a tree of his own choosing.
Mo walked down to the river and gazed out toward Sunnyside. She shielded her eyes against the late-October sun that had risen through the clouds and the mist. And there he was.
Repair work was going on at Sunnyside, with scaffolding up by the porch where Washington Irving had often sat, enjoying the peace of the riverwhen the trains werent rattling by. There was no train at the moment.
Irving wasnt sitting. He was walking, as if taking a midday constitutional. Shoulders high and squared, he moved slowly but with dignity, handsome in a jacket, vest and cravat. She watched him for a few minutesand she saw him look down the slight bend in the river to where she stood. She wasnt anywhere near close enough to see his face clearly, but she knew he was watching her, too. He waved at her, and she waved back.
She doubted he knew yet that his beloved TarrytownSleepy Hollow area had been visited by a flesh-and-blood demon who was killing peopleand taking heads.
During his life, people had often asked Irving whether he believed ghosts existed. Irving always said that if they did, and if he came back as one, hed certainly haunt a place hed loved. Sunnyside.
And, of course, there were frequent sightings of the ghost. He was often caught in orbs and patterns on film and digital cameras
This amused Irving no end. Hed told Mo once that he derived great pleasure from studying people as they walked around Sunnyside gaping at their photosand swearing theyd captured his image in a slew of dust motes when hed actually been standing right behind them as theyd taken the pictures.
She didnt have the opportunity to speak with him often. It only happened on days when she went back to Sunnyside to walk the grounds and revel in the peace and beauty of the place.
And to shop in the gift store. She loved going in at this time of year; they always had delightfully spooky things for sale. Sometimes, the essence of Irvingas he liked to refer to himselffollowed her into the store and teased her as she did her shopping. He was quite a prankster and particularly liked making her look as if she were talking to herselfostensibly driven crazy by the ghosts of Sleepy Hollow.
Rollo! Lets go in, she called to the dog.
He came loping over to her from the woods, where hed no doubt had a number of good sniffs and marked several treesan Irish wolfhound was capable of a lot of marking. She stooped to give him a massive hug. Shed taught him long ago not to jump on people, since hed knock most of them to the ground if he did.
In the early 1800s, her home had been a one-room wooden farmhouse. Sometime before the Civil War, the Ahern family had come from Boston and purchased the house. Theyd added a wing as well as a second story. During the war years, Sean Ahern had built another wing. Hed had a son killed at Shiloh and had turned his pain into a passion for helping wounded soldiers. Hed taken in many who had been displaced.
The ivied entrance with its small pillars led to a long hallway. The dining room was to the left of the kitchen, which came complete with modern conveniences. A door from the dining room led out to what was still called the hospital porch. To the right was the staircase and the parlor, and beyond the parlor was an office/library. Behind that, she had a large family room. The house was filled with marvelous little featuresa recessed area in the office for a daybed, a bay window at the front of the parlor and built-in shelving for bric-a-brac and plates and books. The family room had French doors that opened onto the back porch with its view of the river. There were the trains, of course. That was okay. For her beautiful little piece of the world, she could deal with the trains.
She set her keys on the eighteenth-century occasional table by the door and pulled off her jacket, hanging it on a hook. Then she started a pot of coffee in the kitchen, and after that, went to the office to sit at her computerand stare at it. While Halloween might be approaching, she was working on designs for Valentines Day.
His nails clicking on the hardwood floors, Rollo came down the hall and settled in her office, next to her desk. She tried to focus on the screen. Shed been working on a verse for a pop-up card shed designed that revealed a cherubic cupid pulsing with sun rays when the card was opened. He was aiming an arrow with a heart for a tip, and so far shed written, Roses are red, violets are blue, my world is brilliant, since I have you.
Mo loved what she did. Shed been a visual arts major, and while still in college she became fascinated with pop-up cards. Shed worked for a number of card companies, but eventually shed started working at home. She did the artwork and the paper engineering on the cards before they were sent off to be replicated in large numbers.
She made a decent living from her art. She and Rollo never accepted money for working with the police; to her, it wouldnt have seemed right.
What do you think of my latest card, Rollo? Simple and sweet. Gotta tell ya, this isnt easy when...
She could still see that first horsemanwith the head of Richard Highsmith on it.
Mo heard the slight creak of old floorboards and turned around. Rollo was already at her feet so she knew it wasnt the dog moving.
Her heart quickened for a moment. She had just seen two people whod been decapitated. Noises in the house didnt usually bother her. It was old; it was constantly settling. And, of course, she had several resident ghostssome better than others in their abilities to make floorboards creak and cause solid objects to move.