by Laura Greene
Late one night, while staring blankly at the letters and wondering if she will ever catch Tom Hendry's murderer, Jane receives a panicked phone call from Lila Hendry. All she says is, "come quick, the killer has sent another letter." That is enough for Jane; she doesn't need any more. If there is something else in the letter, some tiny piece of evidence that can help solve the case, Jane will do everything in her power to uncover it. It is just after 11pm, and Jane has dashed over to the huge, domineering Conwell House. In the dark, the grounds take on a more ominous appearance, and as the large mansion looms over her Jane feels an oppressive feeling, as though she is being watched from the woods across from the sprawling lawn.
It is Charles who opened the door, wearing a white shirt and black suit pants, looking as though he has been up all evening taking business calls. Though the doorway is large, Charles' athletic figure is equally as impressive. Domineering, yet with those kind eyes... Jane can get lost in them if she’s not careful.
“Jane, I'm so glad you're here. Lila is beside herself,” Charles says, welcoming her into his home.
“Where is she?”
“Sheriff!” comes a shrieking voice from the top of the staircase. There is Lila in a white dressing gown, descending the stairs like a character from a Jane Austen novel. Yet she is clearly upset and unnerved, her usually pale features flush as she reaches Jane, standing over the markings on the lobby floor which, as they always have, read: “nevermore.”
“It's okay, Lila. I'm here now.” Jane can calm almost any situation with a few gentle words and a soothing timbre to her voice.
Lila instinctively embraces Jane. She has grown close to the sheriff during Jane's visits to Conwell House. “Here it is, I found it sticking through the letterbox this evening,” says Lila, holding an envelope in her hands.
Pulling out a pair of thin latex gloves from her pocket and putting them on, Jane opens the envelope and reads what is inside:
“You got what was coming to you, Tom Hendry. The devil walks, and now you can live by his side. But it doesn't stop with you. Your line has to end. Starting with that dear boy of yours. Charles, I'll be coming for you next, to stop your family's foul ways.”
At the bottom of the letter, as with the previous two, is a series of strange symbols.
“I can't lose Charles...” Lila whimpers, tears streaming down her silken cheeks.
“You're not going to,” reassures Jane. “I'm going to make sure someone is here with you both 24/7 until I catch who is writing these letters. You'll be safe, Lila, and so will Charles.”
Placing a gentle hand on Jane's arm, Charles says, “We can't thank you enough, Jane. You've been such a rock for both of us through this difficult time. Might I ask...will you be one of the people watching over Conwell House?”
Lila's face lights up. “Oh, please say you will, Jane.”
Jane nods. “Of course. I'll take turns with Deputy Morris. He's a lovely person, but he's not as good at chess as I am.”
Charles and Jane have played several games of chess together over the last few weeks while Jane spent time trying to get a feel for the place and the Hendrys themselves as people. Initially, she spent this time hoping that she would find out something about Tom Hendry that will help with the investigation, but over time her trips to Conwell House have become enjoyable distractions from her private life. In many ways Conwell House feels like a sanctuary away from the world, as though her worries lie far beyond the woods, melting away into nothingness.
Three loud, booming knocks sound.
“Who...who is that?” asks Lily, nervously looking at the oak doors which lead to the darkened world outside.
“We're not expecting anyone at this hour,” says Charles. He moves towards the door.
“Hold on,” begins Jane. “Given that this letter directly threatens you and your family, Charles, I think it's a good idea if you don't answer any doors for now.”
Jane steps forward and peers through a small peephole in the door. On the other side is a man in his thirties, with hair long and unkempt, and his face and hands resembling the look of someone who attempted to wash soil from their skin in a hurry but left a thin residue. A long shadow obscures much of his features, making him difficult to recognize.
“Hello? Who's there?” Jane asks loudly, her hand resting on the revolver in her holster.
“I w... wanted to check on Lila and Charles...” the muffled voice returns from outside.
Lila lets out an audible sigh. “It's Franklin, our groundskeeper.”
Charles steps forward and looks through the peephole himself, then, he unlocks the door, revealing the slightly stooped figure of Franklin, his eyes darting around nervously.
“We're fine, Franklin,” says Charles. “Sheriff Scott is just checking in on us.”
“I... I saw the car... Was worried.” Franklin stammers when he speaks.
Jane wonders if this is because of her presence. People get nervous around law enforcement, both the innocent and the guilty. “Franklin, nice to see you again.” Jane already questioned Franklin, along with Yuri Tamoshi, the Hendrys’ cook, and a few of the other staff on the Conwell House Estate to see what they knew about Tom's death. Most of them seemed shocked, but Franklin particularly took it to heart as the only staff member who has lived permanently on the estate.
“Always good to me was Mr. Hendry,” he said several times during questioning. “S...sad to see such a bad thing h... happen. He d...didn't deserve that.”
Franklin is the eyes and ears of the estate. He has worked there all his life, like his father before him, though Franklin Sr. sadly passed away. He is a simple man who lives in a hut somewhere in the woods, and Charles leaves him alone for the most part. Jane feels that it is a kindness that the Hendrys have decided to keep him on.
Still standing on the doorstep of Conwell House, Franklin asks, “Will you be nee... needing anything else t... tonight, Sir?”
“No, we'll be fine, Franklin,” says Charles, patting Franklin on the shoulder. “And thank you for looking out for us as always.”
“Y... you and L... Lila mean a lot to me, Sir. I wouldn't want anything b... bad to happen to you.”
Jane watches as Franklin turns and leaves, crossing the lawn with an unusual gait to his walk, slightly stooping as he goes. “It must be a comfort having Franklin near,” Jane says, trying to gauge the Hendrys’ feelings about him.
“Oh, yes. Franklin is a sweetheart,” responds Lila, her tears now dried.
Clearing his throat, Charles says, “Yes... well... he is a strange man, but Dad had it in his will that Franklin should be kept on if anything ever happened to him.”
“You wouldn't have kept him on?” inquires Jane, looking down at the letter still in her hand.
“Oh... I would. It's just he has an unusual fascination with my sister...”
“No he doesn't!” says Lila. “Sheriff, really, my brother doesn't like that Franklin takes pictures of me sitting on the lawn occasionally. But I let him, and he's harmless. I think it's good that he likes taking photographs, and he always asks first.”
“Just don't encourage him too much,” says Charles, before turning to Jane. “Where do we go from here then, Jane?”
“I'll stay in my patrol car tonight and watch until morning. I'll then have Deputy Morris take over. You'll be quite safe, but you must tell me if you have any worries or if you receive any other threats. As Franklin said, I'd hate for anything to happen to you.”
Charles responds to this with his usual charming smile. “It's good to have you here, Jane. Wouldn't you feel more comfortable inside though?”
Jane feels a sudden longing. She would love nothing more than to pass the evening away chatting with Lila and her brother by a roaring fire, but something deep down tells her that she is getting too attached to the family and the house. “That's very kind of you, Charles, but I'll have a better vantage point from outside for now. Try to get a good night’s sleep, both of you.” With that,
Jane leaves the comfort of Conwell House and heads to her patrol car, parked next to the cherub water fountain. In the dark its features look more malevolent than ever, and from all around, the silence of the estate and Wild Cove beyond it speak of something waiting in the darkness, readying itself to emerge and once again visit tragedy and pain upon the Hendrys.
More than once, Jane sees the watchful features of Charles above in one of the windows, looking down at Jane and waving to her. She is watching the Hendrys, and Charles is watching Jane. How she wishes Jack could be there to show the same concern for her well-being.
Three more nights pass like this. Deputy Morris watches during the day and Jane keeps watch at night. With each passing hour spent with the Hendrys, Jane feels an ever-growing closeness to them; and with this comes a resolute desire to protect them from the twisted stalker hovering out there in the shadows. As each day progresses, Jane spends more and more time in the house rather than watching from her patrol car until, on the third night, she spends the majority of her shift inside by a large fireplace, talking with Charles into the late hours, periodically doing a walk around the building to ensure that they are safe.
Jane enjoys Charles' company, and though she misses Jack, Charles' gentility and good manners remain in stark opposition to the sarcasm and fiery nature of her boyfriend. Is he even my boyfriend anymore? The thought filters through Jane's mind on more than one occasion while succumbing to the charms of Conwell House. She is certain that there is a growing connection with Charles, and when he jokes that he would like to take Jane out for a meal when all of this is over to thank her she does not decline the invitation, though she does not say “yes” either.
During one of these nightly conversations, while sitting by the fire in the library chatting with Charles, Jane hears a scream from upstairs.
“Lila!” shouts Charles, as both he and Jane rush into the lobby and then up the stairs to meet her.
Lila comes out of the doorway to her bedroom, shaking. “Someone was at my window!”
“Are you sure?” asks Charles.
“Yes! I heard them walking around, twigs snapping under their feet. When I looked out there was nobody there, but I heard it.”
“Stay here and lock the door behind me,” says Jane. Charles is adamant he is going to be by Jane's side, but when she reminds him that Lila will be alone, he reluctantly agrees to stay indoors.
Pulling her gun from her holster, Jane walks into the night. The air is colder than it has been for several evenings, and the slight chill reminds her of the frozen winter they only recently overcame. That is not a pleasant memory, and as Jane looks out across the darkened lawn, lit occasionally by wisps of moonlight, a cold dread seeps into her bones.
At first, Jane only listens. Hoping to hear the sound of footsteps that she can follow. But no such sound comes. Silence is more frightening than any noise. It holds inside of it a bleak and encroaching promise that something is out there. It’s this fear of the unknown that clouds Jane's mind.
Slowly, Jane walks around the perimeter of Conwell House, being sure not to stand on any of the twigs Lila heard being broken by an unseen foot. Reaching the corner just before Lila's bedroom window overhead two floors up, Jane takes a deep breath and then swiftly moves, pointing her gun in the direction of the section of ground directly beneath the window. At first, Jane sees a hulking figure standing there. It is a humanoid shape, leering back at her from the darkness. Only when a fragment of moonlight pierces the black clouds above, meeting the beam from her flashlight, does Jane see that the hulking shape is a tall bush. She sighs with relief.
When she returns indoors, Charles asks, “Did you see anyone?”
“No, but I nearly shot one of your well-kept bushes,” Jane jokes.
There is no sign of a prowler outside, and Charles suggests out of earshot of his sister that the sounds might be in Lila's worried mind only. Jane agrees, though she has to take any threat seriously. The very idea that Tom Hendry’s killer is wandering the estate is enough to fill even the experienced Jane Scott with fear for what might come.
Chapter 5
Jane's phone rings at 6 in the morning. Groggily, she leans over from her bed and answers. “Hello?”
“Sheriff Scott?” comes the voice on the other side.
“Yes? Who is this?”
“It's Philip Barnsley; I believe you've been looking for me?”
Jane sits up, the tiredness temporarily abating. “Professor, thanks for calling... Sorry if I sound a little out of it, I was on night shift...”
“What time is it there?”
“6am.”
The professor suddenly sounds bashful. “I'm terribly sorry about that, I didn't realize it was so early.”
She reaches over to her shirt, which is hanging on the back of a chair, and pulls out her notepad and pencil. “No problem. Did you have a chance to look at the copies of the letters I sent you?”
“Yes. I did. The letters are a mix of occult symbols put together from Norse, Egyptian, and Coptic writings. I haven't seen them in this arrangement before.”
“What do they mean?" asks Jane.
"Unfortunately, that's something I can't exactly say. It seems to me that they've been used in such a way that a cipher would have to be used to understand the meaning."
Jane’s disappointed. "What do you mean a 'cipher,' do you mean one of those code breaking things?"
The professor answers. "Yes, whenever someone writes a message in code, the code can be read only if you possess the cipher. In simple terms, the cipher tells you what the message means. The reason I can't decode this is because the symbols are so erratic. They are from different cultural sources, which doesn't make sense to me. It's like writing a sentence with words from different languages.”
“I see… Is there anything you can give me about who might have written this?"
“As I say, without the cipher, I can't decode this. However, I'm a little surprised that you came to me considering you live in Wild Cove."
Jane is puzzled by this. "Why is that?"
"Because one of the country's foremost leading experts in occult symbology lives in your town.”
“That's unusual. I had no idea. This town continues to surprise me. Do you think that person could be behind these letters and the murder I'm investigating?"
"I highly doubt that," replies the professor. "After all, he is a pastor."
Since she came to Wild Cove, Pastor Callaghan has become Jane's most trusted friend. He has assisted her on a number of investigations and he always brings with him a wisdom and understanding about the local community. As a man of God, Jane is uncertain as to why Pastor Callaghan is an expert in occult symbols, but he is a man of many surprises.
After catching up on a few hours of sleep, Jane drives onto Main Street and pulls up right outside the town church. It’s midday and the sun hangs in the sky directly above, bathing the streets of Wild Cove in a comforting glow.
The church has a single spire that reaches up to the sky, providing a comforting sight to the townsfolk. Wherever you are in Wild Cove, all you need to do is look up and you can see the church. When times are tough or you feel down, the church and Pastor Callaghan are waiting to offer solace, kindness, or advice. Jane is in need of all three of these.
Entering the church doors there is no service currently on, but she knows the pastor is home. He always is during the day. He believes the church should remain open as much as possible. Jane often marvels at the pastor's love for kindness. Though being a sheriff drains Jane's fortitude at times, the pastor is an ever-present source of inspiration. He fights the good fight wherever it is needed, and Jane finds that comforting whenever she falters.
“Jane!" the pastor says, walking out from a side door near the altar. "It's so good to see you. I was just looking over some sermon notes. How have you been?"
"I'm okay,” comes Jane's reply.
"Are you sure?" The pastor wears a concerned expression on his face.
"You know I'm always here if you need to talk."
“I have a lot on my mind. Tom Hendry's case, and Jack...”
The pastor chuckles. “And what sort of a mess has our resident mechanic folklorist got himself into now?”
Jane explains about the night at Stefano's restaurant and how Jack didn’t defend her when his parents were so rude.
“Ah, yes. The Macreadys,” the pastor says thoughtfully.
“So you know them?”
“Oh, yes. They used to come here. Far be it for me to join our town's gossipers, but what I will say is that the Macreadys always had an argument somewhere to fight, and if they couldn't find one, they'd make one. If they've focused on you, it's only because they ran out of other things to argue about.”