A Soul To Steal by Rob Blackwell

ass on the line.”
    “Think about it Gary, why did they put you in charge today?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Sure you do,” Quinn said. “You hate reporters. You tell them nothing. You’ve made no secret about it. Stu doesn’t trust Tipper—he never did. He’ll leak. But you won’t.”
    “Because they trust me,” Gary said. “And I'm betraying that...”
    “No, because you got burned by Kyle and Summer,” Quinn said. “You said something off the record and they put it in their stories. But they don’t know about us. Why? Because I didn’t burn you. I went out of my way to protect your son and I didn’t have to. A cop’s kid dealing marijuana is a big story…”
    “Shut up, okay?” Gary said. “You don’t have to remind me.”
    “Kyle doesn’t know I talk to you—my own editor doesn’t know,” Quinn said.
    This last part was a bold lie—Rebecca knew damn well who his source was. But she would never give it up.
    “No one will know if you leak to me,” Quinn said. “You know you can trust me. They won’t know.”
    “All right,” Gary said finally. “All right.”
    “Tell me what you know,” Quinn said.
    “They found a body, in the woods, on the gravel road between here and Waterford,” he said.
    “Hearse Road?”
    “Yeah,” Gary said.
    “They found a body. Murdered?”
    “She was decapitated, Quinn,” Gary said. “That kind of thing doesn’t tend to happen accidentally. The Kaulbach kid spilled the story along with his guts. The woman was missing a head—clean cut from her shoulders.”
    Quinn felt a momentary stab of panic. In his head, an image played from his nightmare. The Horseman was bearing down on him, a sword in his hand, preparing to remove his head. He could feel the blade about to cut into his flesh.
    Quinn pushed it away.
    “And Kaulbach found the head,” he said.
    “They were called out there to search,” Gary said. “Originally they wanted to have a whole pack do it, but they stopped.”
    “Why?” Quinn asked.
    “Because they’re scared,” Gary said. “Scared this isn't a murderous lover or something...”
    “Scared it’s the Horseman,” Quinn said.
    “Yeah,” Gary said, and then added, “Wait. What? The Horseman? Who the hell is the Horseman?”
    “No one,” Quinn said quickly. “I sometimes get my serial killers mixed up.”
    “I'm not going to say who I was thinking of,” Gary said.
    “Lord Halloween,” Quinn said. “That’s who they are worried about.”
    “Look, I was truthful at the beginning here,” Gary said. “I don't know much. We don't know that it is that guy at all. Hell, some people still even think it really was Holober. But even if it wasn’t… He has been gone 12 years, for Christ's sake. It’s just…”
    “Just what?” Quinn asked.
    “The brutality of it is unusual for this town, you know that. And with this time of year..."
    “It isn’t hard to jump to conclusions,” Quinn said. “So are they going to talk about it?”
    “Are you nuts?” Gary asked. “If I so much as mention that you are inquiring about a headless woman in the woods, what the hell do you think they will say? They’ll clam up.”
    “So how do I get the story, Gary?”
    “That’s not my problem,” Gary said. “I shouldn’t have told you this much. They’ll find out who leaked it.”
    “No they won’t,” Quinn said.
    “They will...”
    “They will if you run around acting guilty,” Quinn said. “Don’t do that. Just act like everything is normal. Just be cool.”
    “Easy for you to say,” Gary said grumpily.
    “Look, I appreciate what you’ve told me...”
    “Just don’t screw me over,” Gary said. “All right? Just don’t screw me over.”
    And with that, he hung up, and Quinn was left in silence.
    He looked at the clock. It was still early in the morning and no one else was here. And he had the story of a lifetime.
    Almost.
    There were two concerns. The first was the vision of his nightmare intruding on reality.