by Laura Greene
Jane then has a conversation with Deputy Morris about Keith Tillerman. She asks him if he thinks the limp he has is “put on”. The deputy says that he isn't a doctor, but he certainly doesn't think the limp is bad enough to not have walked Susan home just a few nights ago.
“It seems suspicious to me that the kid might be faking his football injury, but for him to be involved in Susan's disappearance?” asks Deputy Morris over the phone.
Jane sighs regretfully. “It wouldn't be the first time that a teenager was involved in a crime like this. Maybe there's more to Keith Tillerman than meets the eye. We'll need to speak with him and his family, without attracting suspicion from Agent Ross that we are still investigating this.”
“When?”
“We'll try and go around tomorrow or the day after. I have to be seen to be doing other police work or the FBI will be onto us.”
Around 2pm, Jane decides it is time to meet up with her co-conspirators to see if she can help with their observations. However, as she walks along the hallway from her office, she notices something that piques her interest. Great police work often relies on a combination of luck, expertise, and following your instincts. At least, that is what Jane believes.
When Jane walks down the hallway she hears, at the bottom of the stairs, Agent Ross and his two colleagues leaving the building to meet with a contact out of town. Who that contact is she does not know, but it has afforded her an unprecedented opportunity. FBI agents are usually thorough, but they have not requested all available keys to the briefing room. In fact, Jane still has one in her possession. As she passes the door, she wonders about the nature of the information the FBI has inside that room. Are there clues as to what, exactly, they are investigating? And will that help Jane find Susan?
Carefully taking the key out of her pocket, Jane unlocks the door and slips inside, closing the door behind. What she sees amazes her. The briefing room has been transformed. Filing cabinets occupy a once empty space, images and other documents are plastered to the walls, and on a single desk, which Jane instinctively knows is Agent Ross's, there are a number of files sitting in plain view. Not so careful are we, Mr. Ross? thinks Jane to herself.
Stepping over to the desk, Jane thumbs through the files she can see. At first, she keeps an ear out for the agents returning. However, the details of the files are so shocking to her, so gripping, that she loses herself in her detective work. Soon, she is cross-referencing information in the documents with what she can see posted on the wall.
It all makes for grim reading. The FBI believes that a crime syndicate has descended upon the sleepy town of Wild Cove. This angers Jane. She has no hint that such a presence exists. Worse still, the documents allege that this crime syndicate is involved in people smuggling. Child smuggling, to be exact. The details of where those children went are too horrific to dwell upon. Although no direct mention is made of Susan in the documents, it doesn't take Jane long to conclude that Agent Ross is there to find out whether Susan Dern has been kidnapped by that same syndicate.
Jane takes some of the documents and walks over to a copy machine in the corner she usually fights with. The thing only works half the time. Slipping what Jane perceives to be the most important page into the copier, she hits the copy/print button. The machine comes to life with the same juddering resistance it always does, as it finally decides to slowly and angrily scan the document.
At that same moment, Jane's phone receives a text message. It’s from Jack. Henry Wright is on the move again. Jack followed him around the town as Henry walked the snowy streets. Jack was convinced of his guilt, as Henry walked to Hemlock Street and stood at the very bushes and wall where Susan's bloodied phone had been found. Jack says, "I think he's getting off on reliving his crime. He's now back at his house, will check in if anything changes."
The noise of the copier is still buzzing, but it is soon joined by a new sound. Jane's blood runs cold. It’s the sound of Agent Ross and his two colleagues ascending the stairs to the very room Jane is now in. If she is discovered there, she will be arrested for accessing classified federal information. As Ross and his colleagues walk up the stairs, their footsteps echo outside of the room. The copier then jams.
The copier has always been the bane of Jane's existence, and now it is threatening to derail her entire career; perhaps even gloating over her ending up in jail, if machines can do such things. Agent Ross and the other two agents are now just outside the door, talking among themselves about something. Jane has no choice; she can only hope that the document will not be discovered in the now silent copier. The door handle to the room moves and Agent Ross's muffled voice from the other side says, "I was sure I locked this."
He enters the room, looking around. "See if anything has been disturbed." Agent Ross and the other two men look around, checking the filing cabinets and other materials.
"Seems fine to me," says one of the other men.
Agent Ross continues to search the room with an expression of disbelief and suspicion. He has good reason to be suspicious, though he does not know it, for the figure of Sheriff Jane Scott is watching and listening from nearby. From outside, to be exact. She has climbed out of a window and is now staring down at a 20 foot drop beneath her. The icy wind which has blown on and off all day is now, unfortunately, increasing in ferocity.
Jane clings onto the exterior of the building, feet poking out over the narrow ledge. Ice has formed on the building facade, and one false move will result in her plummeting to the ground. You're crazy, thinks Jane to herself as she looks desperately for a solution. The prospect of spending any serious amount of time out there is a daunting one. It will only be moments until someone outside sees her clinging for dear life to the side of the building. Worse still is the inquisitive figure of Agent Ross wandering around the briefing room as though looking for something.
Finally, he stares at the window where Jane is. She is hidden by the blinds, but Agent Ross is clearly going to open the window and look outside. "I wonder…" he mumbles under his breath. Walking over to the window, he reaches out his hand and places it on the handle. Jane looks around for any way out.
Suddenly, a clunking sound makes all three FBI agents jump. It’s the copier. The machine has decided to work, springing into life and then jamming again. Maybe the copier does like me, thinks Jane, as Agent Ross walks over to it to see what is wrong; now certain someone was in the room trying to copy some of the documents. At the same time, Jane edges along to the next windowsill and then pulls the window open falling into the next room from outside.
She falls with an almighty crash, only to be greeted by the puzzled face of Doris from the front desk who is sitting drinking her coffee on break in the staff room. Jane hears the clambering of feet coming from the next room and looks to Doris with a panicked expression. Agent Ross is wondering what the noise was, thinking that perhaps someone has indeed been out on the window ledge and has climbed into the next room.
But when Agent Ross and his colleagues enter the staff room they find Doris standing on one leg, her other leg in the air, while she attempts to touch her toes. "This is the hardest one," she says to the agent without looking up at him.
"What are you doing?" Agent Ross asks in an agitated fashion.
"I've got my seniors’ Zumba class tomorrow, and I have been trying to get this move all week. It's impossible.” Doris then leans over, with her posterior facing the agents.
"Ah, yes..." says Agent Ross, flustered, "very good. Carry on." The agents promptly disappear back into the briefing room.
When the coast is clear, Jane emerges from a small cupboard at the back of the room. “Seniors’ Zumba?” she says, laughing. “You hate exercise.”
“It's never too late to start,” Doris says, sitting down and returning to her coffee.
“Thanks for covering for me, Doris. I owe you.”
“No need. I don't like that man and you're a good soul, Jane. I hope whatever you were doing out on that window ledge w
as worth it.”
Jane holds up a document in her hand. “I hope so, too.”
Chapter 7
Jane keeps that piece of paper on her person. No one is going to get their hands on it until she can figure out what to do with the shocking information she has found. For now, Jane needs to focus on finding Susan. As the sun sets, she leaves the station, gets into her car, and is intending to find Deputy Morris, who is still watching Keith Tillerman.
That is when she receives the phone call from Jack.
Jane answers the call on her Bluetooth, with Jack's voice coming through the car speakers. It’s immediately clear to her that he is outside. When the sun dips below the horizon, bathing the town in darkness, the wind gets up again. With it comes a flurry of snow and yet Jack is on foot, the wind blowing into his phone, making it sound like he is lost in an abyss of static.
“Jack?” Jane says repeatedly.
Jack's words are only intermittently clear. “Jane.. Henry Wright... Moving... Hemlock Street... Lost him...”
“Where are you now, Jack?” Jane says loudly, hoping she is heard.
“Hemlock... Bushes...” His words are growing more distant.
Then, a sound comes that frightens Jane more than any oncoming blizzard. Jack lets out a shout. A yell that rises up out of the static then cuts off suddenly, as too does the call. Something terrible has happened to him.
Jane throws caution to the wind and floors the car. As the car slides around street corners into the darkened night, she radioes Deputy Morris and all available units to descend upon Hemlock Street.
The snow is now coming down so thickly that Jane can hardly see 3 feet in front of the car. But finally, she makes it to the same spot where Susan Dern was taken. Clambering out of the patrol car Jane pulls out her gun and flashlight, scanning the bushes where she found Susan's phone. It’s like a carbon copy of the first crime scene. There are signs of a struggle in the snow, tracks which lead back to the bushes in front of the tall brick wall, and then nothing. No sign of Jack, nor any sign of where his attacker may have fled to. The snow around is undisturbed.
It doesn't make any sense. There must be more tracks... Jane thinks to herself, her panicked mind now desperately searching for a solution. And in that moment, while she worries for the safety of her boyfriend, it dawns on her. The wall...
Jane pushes through the bushes for several feet until she reaches the brick wall. She pulls herself up with all her might, until she is looking over the other side. On the other side of the wall, there are messy tracks. Footprints leading off through the gardens. Jane knows they are size 10.5s.
Henry Wright pulled Susan over the wall before heading off through a row of backyards. Now, he has done the same thing again, this time with Jack. The snow falls in even greater amounts, but Jane is not going to wait for backup. Soon, like the evening when Susan was taken, the footprints will disappear forever and Jack will be lost in the same nightmarish place as Susan.
Jane rushes through the backyards, over fences and hedgerows, following the same tracks until they stop at the rear of a large house. A set of double doors lead into the basement of the building. There is no time for hesitating. Jane brandishes her weapon and her flashlight, pulls at one of the doors, and disappears inside.
She walks as quietly as she can, negotiating the cluttered basement. It is stacked with boxes and trinkets from a bygone age. Books, desks and tables, children's toys... As Jane rounds a corner in the darkness she sees, to her horror, the body of Jack Macready lying on the floor. Over him stands the slight figure of Henry Wright checking the rope tied around Jack's wrists.
Henry turns to Jane as she enters. Jane points her gun in return. Finally, she has him. The fiend behind Susan's disappearance. She'll bring him in herself.
“Freeze! Show me your hands!” screams Jane.
Then, thump! A searing pain. What blindsided her? Blood gushes from a wound on her head and the gun is taken from her hand as she falls onto all fours. Henry Wright disappears further into the basement like the coward he is, while his accomplice does the dirty work.
“Owen...” an old, withered voice says from the darkness. “Ah, you have new classmates. Come on then, children. It's almost time for school.”
Jane feels her dazed body being lifted up and dragged to the corner of the basement. There, under a cold, yellow light bulb old Mrs. Marsden stands, dressed as though she is teaching another class for school. The trembling, semi-conscious figure of Susan Dern is tied to an old school chair and desk, while Jack is tied to another, barely breathing.
“You'll be late for class; hurry, Owen,” says Mrs. Marsden, grinning.
The large figure of Owen Marsden appears to Jane through her hazy vision, lifting her up and then tying one of her hands to another wooden school desk. “Owen... no...” says Jane, trying to find her strength but failing.
“I've got them for you, Mom,” says Owen. “You can start now.”
“Start what?” Jane whispers.
Mrs. Marsden sits on a wooden chair at the front of class, facing her “students”. “Why, your lessons, you silly little girl!” Mrs. Marsden smiles and then opens an old, yellowed schoolbook. “Now, let me see... Shall we start with a history lesson? Or how about math? I do love math!”
Then, there is silence. The smiling face of Mrs. Marsden changes. Her expression turns from being happy to being pained. Tears well up in her eyes.
“What's wrong, Mom?” says Owen, his voice cracking with emotion.
Mrs. Marsden shakes her head. “No. No... This is all wrong.”
“What is?” asks Owen.
“This isn't my class... There are supposed to be more children...”
Owen flies into a fit of rage. His once kind demeanor is of someone unhinged and pushed to the brink. “I can't do this, Mom! You said you needed a class. You wanted to find your class. Well here they are!” Owen moves between Jack and Jane's chairs to young Susan's shivering, seated body. Owen pulls at her hair and lifts her head so his mother can see her face. “Look... It's little Suzie...” Then, he moves to Jack, propping his head up by the chin. “And this is young Jack...he's a real handful...” Finally, he places his sweating hands on Jane's shoulder, pulling her backwards with force. “Sit up straight, Janey!”
Mrs. Marsden cries. “Owen. No! You're hurting them. This...this isn't my class.”
Reaching to his belt, Owen pulls out something that glistens in the light of a solitary bulb, but Jane's barely conscious mind can't quite put it together initially until it finally reveals its true nature.
Owen brandishes a knife in his hand and points it at his mother. “You wouldn't listen, Mom! All this time, you wouldn't listen! I've tried to look after you, but the dementia...” Owen turns to Jane, his eyes pleading. “You have to understand, Sheriff. They said they'd put her in a home...I've tried...I really have. You don't know what it's been like...”
Jane groans and takes a deep breath, trying to stay conscious as the blood trickles from the wound in her head. “I know how hard it is, Owen. Just, please...you don't want to hurt anyone. I get it. Things got on top of you...”
“On top of me!” screams Owen, waving the knife. “I tried not to let her leave the house, but that just made things worse. She would get angry and harm herself.”
“Owen... Who are these people?” says Mrs. Marsden, confused. “What are they doing in my house?”
Turning to his mother, Owen flashes the knife in front of her face. Rage creeping through his gritted teeth, “You wouldn't listen, Mom. You haven't taught in twenty odd years! But no, you had to get out at night and go looking for your class...”
“Is that why you took Susan?” asks Jane promptly, the pain in her head growing.
“Yes,” answers Owen. “I saw her walking home one night when I was trying to find Mom. I knew she did it regularly. Mom even approached her and said she was one of her students. But she wasn't. They're all grown up now... Like me... But not prisoners like I am, coope
d up indoors looking after my senile mother. I thought that maybe if I got that girl and brought her home, maybe Mom could play with her in the basement.” Owen laughs maniacally. “But Mom just kept saying that she had more students coming soon. So that's when I grabbed Jack tonight. I saw him wandering around in the snow, chasing Henry. I thought just a few more and Mom would be happy.”
“I... I don't want this, Owen,” says Mrs. Marsden. “Where are my students? I don't know these people.” Mrs. Marsden starts shaking back and forward, letting out a whimper as she recedes into her own shattered mental world.
“For the last time, these are your students, Mom.” Owen says, despair groaning through his voice.
Owen clings to the knife, trembling, standing dangerously close to his mother as he contemplates consoling her or putting an end to his burden.
“Owen,” Jane says as loudly as she can, trying to pull at the rope around her wrist. “Please, don't do this. I can get you help.”