by Chris Cooper
“That’s terrible,” Izzy said.
Madeline’s comments put a knot in Oliver’s stomach. “Do you remember anything else?” he asked, prying for additional info.
“No, just a tap, tap, tap, like fingernails. At first, I thought maybe Martin had forgotten his keys and was knocking on the door.” She stared at her lap for a moment. “He’s always losing his keys, the silly man. How’s everything back at home? Complete chaos, I imagine.”
“They’ve sent more officers from the neighboring district and the state patrol. The police have also implemented another curfew although I’m not sure what good that will do since two of the attacks occurred behind locked doors,” Izzy replied.
Madeline looked down as if debating whether or not to say what was on her mind. She looked at Oliver. “For what it’s worth… I’m sorry,” she said.
“Sorry?” Oliver replied. The words had knocked him back a few steps.
“For giving you such a hard time—for having the Elders keep such a close eye on you. We should have listened to Eric. You had nothing to do with this, and that’s clear to me now. I’m sorry that it took so long.”
Oliver felt a twinge of anger. The Elders had made him feel like a prisoner. If he hadn’t just learned the woman he saw in the field might have been responsible for the attack, he might have given Madeline a piece of his mind.
“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it.”
Who is this woman who comes bearing apologies? He didn’t recognize Madeline nor Izzy, and the attack seemed to have broken down some invisible barrier between them.
“What the hell was that?” Oliver asked when he was safely out of Madeline’s earshot.
“What are you talking about?”
“The tears, the apology. You hated that woman, and I’m pretty sure she hated you too. Why so friendly now?”
“I don’t hate her. Besides, she could use a little friendliness. We used to be good friends, actually.”
“What? What happened between you two, then?”
“The town,” Izzy replied. “I tried to get involved. Madeline encouraged me. But we clashed over everything. She’s so traditional, and I wanted to liven things up a bit. I think the painting at the art show was the final straw, but things had been rough between us for some time. Oh, I feel terrible about how I’ve been to her. She could have died. This silly feud isn’t worth it.”
“Terrible?” Oliver replied. “She nearly put you out of business and has people spying on me.”
Izzy shrugged. Oliver took a few deep breaths and tried to calm himself. Whatever feud had existed between Izzy and Madeline was the least of his problems. If the woman from the field was responsible for the attacks, he had come face-to-face with a murderer. But why is she attacking the town, and will she come back for me?
Chapter Twenty
Izzy handed Oliver the bakery phone. “It’s for you,” she said.
He held up the receiver to his ear. “Hello?”
“Oliver, it’s Eric. You got a minute?”
“Sure, what can I do for you?”
“I think we finally got our first big break, kid. One of Madeline’s neighbors saw someone messing around with her front door on Halloween night. Think he’s the one scratching those symbols in the wood with the tip of his cane.”
Oliver’s heart sank.
“What did he look like?”
“Funny you should ask. We probably never would have found the guy except he’s wearing this god-awful blue suit. We brought the description over to the tavern yesterday, and the bartender recognized him right away. He’s been staying in one of the rooms. We’ve been holding him at the station since last night.”
“Well, that’s great news. How can I help?” Oliver held out a tiny bit of hope that the man hadn’t mentioned the coin, but why else would Eric be calling him?
“The guy says he stopped by the bakery the other day. He mentioned he spoke to you directly and asked about that coin you found at Francis’s place.”
“Uh, yeah, he did.”
“And he said you referred him to us—told him we had it. Is that right?”
“Right,” Oliver replied.
“And you and I both know you have the coin. So, why would you lie to him, and more importantly, why wouldn’t you mention this somewhat bizarre interaction to me?”
“Um, I—”
“Either way, it doesn’t matter now. We’ll need the coin, though. Do you have it with you?”
“It’s at home, but I can go grab it right now.”
“I’ll meet you at the house in fifteen. And I don’t want to find out you’ve been keeping anything else from me. If this guy has anything to do with the murders, we could have questioned him a long time ago and maybe prevented the attack on Madeline.”
“I’m sorry. It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”
“Better not. See you soon.”
Oliver hung up the phone and looked over at Izzy, who had been listening in on his side of the conversation. He felt guilty for keeping his encounter with the stranger from Eric.
“Someone’s in trouble,” Izzy said, leaning over the metal kitchen table. “What did you do?”
“I’ve got to go back to the house. They found the man who came in the other day and think he might have something to do with the attacks. Eric wants to stop by to pick up the coin. He was pissed because I didn’t call and tell him when the guy came into the store that day.”
He left the bakery and walked in the direction of Izzy’s house. What am I going to do? The thought of handing the coin over to the police made Oliver sick to his stomach. He took solace in the fact that the mystery man was safely tucked away in police custody. But where is the woman?
He would have to turn the coin over to the police unless he ran, but that would make him look guilty. He had no way out of this, and soon he’d lose the coin and his only way to access Briarwood.
As he approached the house, Oliver noticed a large lump of butterscotch fur on the front porch. Nekko eyed him as he walked across the grass. The front door had been left ajar.
He cautiously approached, picked up the plump tabby, and slowly pushed the door open. He put Nekko down on the living room floor, and she sauntered over to a patch of sunlight in front of the window.
The place was turned upside down. Books had been ripped off the shelves, Izzy’s artwork had been toppled and torn, and the contents of the drawers and cubbies in the living room had been spilled onto the floor. Someone had come in search of the coin.
He heard a meek whimper from the other room. “Pan,” he said under his breath. Oliver walked into the kitchen, peeking around the corner to ensure no one was waiting for him. The tiny corgi was nowhere in sight.
“Pan?” he whispered.
The whimper was coming from underneath the cart in the corner of the room. He knelt down and looked underneath. As soon as he made eye contact, Pan came scampering from under the cart and jumped at Oliver as if pleading to be saved.
“Oliver?” Eric shouted from the front door.
“Someone’s broken in,” he said. “The place is a mess—” A crash came from overhead. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he froze, heart thumping louder than it ever had before.
The shouting must have tipped off the intruder. Oliver heard drawers being ripped from the dresser upstairs, followed by the sound of the entire dresser toppling to the floor. The intruder made their way down the hallway, seemingly overturning everything as they passed. Oliver edged toward the kitchen door, preparing to make a run for it.
“Stay there,” Eric whispered, startling him. He’d peeked out from the living room doorway, gun drawn. “I’m going upstairs. If I say run, you run for the station. I’ve radioed for help.” He disappeared into the living room.
“Police!” Eric shouted. “Come down slowly with your hands behind your head.”
Oliver held his breath, as he often did when he was petrified. The chaos upstairs c
ontinued.
“We’re coming up!” Eric shouted.
Who’s we? Surely, he isn’t going up by himself.
Oliver heard heavy footsteps on the staircase, and whoever was on a rampage upstairs seemed to have heard them too. The crashing stopped, and the hallway window shattered onto the roof of the back porch. Whoever was in the house was trying to escape out the second-floor window. Eric’s boots boomed on the wooden floor as he ran toward the window before trudging back to the staircase.
Eric flew past Oliver and out the back door.
“Whoever it was is gone,” Eric said, walking in from the back, several moments later. “Did you get a look at him?”
“Haven’t moved,” Oliver said, still frozen in fear. Eric crossed the kitchen and looked out the back window. “Dammit,” he said under his breath.
Police cars arrived a few minutes later, as did a panic-stricken Izzy. While the police inspected the house, Eric sat with Oliver and Izzy at the kitchen table.
“Have you noticed anything missing?” Eric asked.
Oliver saw his opportunity. If the intruder had come looking for the coin, they clearly hadn’t found it by the time Eric intervened. He could only hope it was still tucked away behind the baseboard.
“I came back for the coin. I left it on my bedroom dresser,” he lied. “I haven’t checked, but what if they came looking for it?”
Problem solved.
“We’ll check it out.”
Sure enough, no coin was to be found around Oliver’s toppled dresser when he and Eric went searching for it.
Eric returned to the kitchen with a scowl.
“What’s the matter?” Izzy asked.
“This puts us in a bit of a predicament. The man we have in custody clearly couldn’t have broken in. The pattern here is somewhat similar—only no one was home at the time, thank God.”
Oliver hated to think about what would have happened if someone had been home. What if it had been Izzy?
“So, we can assume whoever was responsible for this is also responsible for the other attacks. And that couldn’t be our man in custody. The most we’ll be able to charge him with is a few counts of destruction of property for carving signs into the doors.”
“You and I both know it can’t be a coincidence he happened to deface the three doors of three people who were viciously attacked. There’s no way,” Oliver said.
“Circumstantial,” Eric replied. “It’s just not enough. There’s no evidence the guy was inside any of the houses, and clearly, he couldn’t have broken into Izzy’s while still in custody. We’re going to have to let our friend go unless we find additional evidence that warrants a charge, and the odds aren’t looking very good.”
“What about the woman Madeline saw in the house the night of her attack?” Oliver asked.
“How do you know about that?” Eric replied.
“Madeline—she told us when we visited her in the hospital.”
“She did say something about a woman, but we’ve found nothing to support it. We think she may have just been—”
“I saw her too,” Oliver interrupted.
“Saw her? Where?” Eric asked.
“At the edge of the woods,” he replied. “I went looking for the house, the one I told you about earlier. She confronted me—just stood and blocked my path back to Izzy’s. My flashlight flickered, and by the time I got it working again, she was gone.”
“What did she look like?”
“Skinny with long black hair and a dirty nightdress,” Oliver replied. Once again, he left out the details about the secret town on the other side of the briars.
Eric gave Oliver a stern look. “All right then, looks like we’ve got some searching to do. We’ll keep you posted if we find anything.”
“What if she comes back?” Izzy asked. “We can’t just stay here alone.”
“If she—or whoever broke in—was looking for the coin, they’ve gotten what they came for. Perhaps our suspect has been telling the truth, and the person responsible did indeed steal the coin from him.”
Oliver felt a twinge of guilt. If the intruder actually was looking for the coin and found out Oliver still had it, they might come back. His lie would put Izzy in danger.
“Think you could keep someone out here tonight?” Oliver asked. “We might sleep a little better.”
Eric nodded. “We’ll post an officer outside for the night. We’re going to have to let our suspect go this evening if we don’t find anything strong enough to charge him. If you think of anything that might be helpful to us, give me a call. And if he bothers you again, let me know.” He turned toward the door into the living room.
“Wait a sec,” Oliver said. “You didn’t get his name, did you? I asked him for it when he came to the bakery, but he didn’t say.”
“Hale,” Eric replied.
“His name’s Hale?” Oliver asked.
“At least, that’s what he claims,” Eric replied. “Simon Hale. Guy’s got no identification on him, though, so all we have at this point is his word. Turns out the tavern still lets guests pay with cash.”
“Isn’t that at least a little suspicious?” Oliver asked.
“Suspicious, yes—illegal, no.”
Eric wrapped up with the other officers in the living room and left to return to the station. Once the police finished sweeping the house, they packed up their gear and left, except for the officer who would be camping out in the front yard.
“Oliver, is it?” he asked, standing in the doorway.
“That’s me,” he replied.
“My name’s Ben. They sent me over from Amberley. I’ll be keeping an eye on the house tonight. If you need anything, just holler,” he said, sticking out his hand for a handshake.
Izzy poked her head around the corner.
“And you must be Isabelle,” Ben said.
Izzy came over to greet him, extending her arthritic hand as elegantly as it would allow.
“Call me Izzy, please,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
Ben was well built and must have been several inches taller than Oliver, whose height already exceeded six feet. As he turned away from the door, Izzy looked over at Oliver and raised her eyebrows.
Oliver first had the thought after Simon visited the bakery that day. But the man spoke quite differently from those in Briarwood. The name confirmed it, though: Hale. Oliver had come face-to-face with Briarwood’s glorious leader.
Once Ben returned to his cruiser and Izzy was busy cleaning up the living room, Oliver sneaked to the third floor. His room had been left in shambles. Clothes had been pulled from the dresser drawers and were strewn across the floor, and the toppled dresser had left a deep gash in the hardwood. He lifted the dresser out of the way and examined the wooden molding next to the bedroom door. The strip of wood sat perfectly in place, undisturbed by the intruder’s rampage through the house. With a deep breath, he pulled the loose piece away, exposing the gold coin underneath.
Chapter Twenty-One
Oliver had given up on sleep completely. He sat at the small desk in his room while Nekko lay on his pillow, enjoying her unexpected brush with luxury.
With Anna’s help, he and Izzy had managed to clean most of the mess on the top two floors and sealed the broken window with cardboard and a few strips of duct tape.
The light from the desk lamp flashed across the coin in his hand as he examined the crow wrapped in tight vines. He mindlessly rubbed his thumb over the etchings, sympathizing with the dying bird. He too felt pulled into the briars and trapped in something he couldn’t quite understand. Eric had released Simon that evening, finding no other evidence to link him to the murders, and Oliver hoped the man would buy the story of the stolen coin—hoped that Simon wasn’t the one somehow responsible for the break-in. Somehow, Simon and the woman had to be linked. But how? He was sure he’d be able to find the answer in Briarwood.
A crash from the front yard broke his concentration. He ran toward the window t
o peer outside. The police cruiser was completely upended on the other side of the road, as if it had been picked up and thrown. The crash on the front lawn was followed by a bang at the front door. Panic set in, and he felt cold needles rise from his feet and up through his spine.
“Izzy!” he screamed, as if the sound of twisting metal and splintering wood hadn’t been enough to wake her.
She slept on the second floor, and he slept on the third, so whoever had just broken in would get to Izzy first. Oliver ran down the stairs toward her room, coin clenched in his hand. As he reached the second floor, Izzy cracked her door.
“What’s happening?” she asked in a quivering whisper.
“Lock the door and call the police,” he replied. “Don’t open it until they get here.”
Oliver nearly tripped down the staircase to the first floor, heels sliding out from under him.
The front door had been ripped completely off the hinges, but he saw no one in the living room. He had nothing more to defend himself than his bare hands, but he crept around the corner into the kitchen—nothing there either. As he returned to the living room, he saw a silhouette in the front doorway. The same lanky figure he’d encountered in the field stood hunched, with jet-black hair hanging over her face. She raised a bony arm with open palm upturned, as if asking for something. He knew what she wanted, but he didn’t budge.
She waited a moment and appeared to be displeased with his lack of response. She turned her head away from him and hobbled toward the staircase. She’s going for Izzy.
“Looking for this?” he asked, holding the coin up between his thumb and index finger.
The woman’s head snapped around, seemingly detached from the rest of her body. She smiled to reveal her jagged yellow teeth and held out her hand once more.
“You can’t have it,” he said. He had no idea where the sudden bravado came from.
She cocked her head, and he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, as if someone was grabbing him by his insides. The force pulled him upward. As his feet left the ground, he noticed everything else in the room was levitating too. The girl remained glued to the floor, but everything around her was floating.
