passed the road to Sunnyside, Washington Irving’s beloved home in the valley, and soon came to another small, barely paved road. He took it toward the river and saw a charming cottage, smaller than Sunnyside and architecturally different. It had two floors with several gables but was also graced with stonework and detailed molding.
He heard a trickling brook as he stepped out of his car and saw that the land sloped toward a forest. To his left, he could see the river. As he paused, he thought that the air itself felt electric, shivering with a strange sense of expectation.
He heard Rollo barking as he neared the door. Just 8:30 a.m. now. She might still be asleep.
No matter.
He knocked on the door.
It seemed she wasn’t much of a sleeper, either. She opened the door, apparently aware that it was him. She was already dressed for the day in jeans and a soft blue sweater. She looked at him with a frown, not alarmed that he was there, but surprised and wary.
“Agent Mahoney.”
“I need you to come with me,” he said.
She flinched. “Is someone else missing?”
“No. I need you to...to see whatever the hell it is you see.”
Some expression he couldn’t readily identify passed over her face. Her eyes didn’t meet his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t. If you think I can help in any way, I’ll come with you. But I don’t know what you’re expecting and I don’t know what you think I can do.”
“Yeah?” He was surprised by the hostility in his own voice. Great way to get someone to do what he wanted. “All right, fine. Just come.”
She seemed to dislike the very sight of him. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse. The word
please
formed in his mind but didn’t make it to his lips.
“Rollo’s coming, too,” she said flatly.
“That’s fine. I like the dog.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Neither of them said anything else, but the inference was there.
Yeah, he liked the dog—not her.
It was irrelevant; they didn’t have to like each other.
“Let me get his leash,” she said.
She stepped back inside. The door closed, and he wasn’t asked in.
For a moment he wondered if she’d locked him out and was calling her friend Lieutenant Purbeck to tell him the FBI man was crazy and that he was harassing her.
But the door opened again. She appeared with Rollo, who wagged his massive tail madly and nudged Aidan for attention. Aidan gave it to him briefly.
“Thank you,” he said formally.
She didn’t respond but strode to his car, letting Rollo hop into the backseat.
“Where are we going?”
“The cemetery.”
She didn’t ask why but remained silent as they drove. He was keenly aware of her beside him. Her head was high, the angle emphasizing the fine lines of her features. He inhaled her scent and for some reason, the fact that she was beautiful and poised and possessing such a demeanor of strength began to irritate him.
When they reached the site and parked, she led the way up the hill, weaving through the stones and memorials with the dog and coming to a halt before the tomb.
She turned to look at him. “Why are we here?”
He answered her question with another. “Why did you come here yesterday?” he asked.
“You saw. Rollo was on the scent!”
“Yes, I saw. But how did you get to the head? Richard’s head,” he added, as if there was any risk she might misunderstand.
She flushed. “I’m...not sure,” she said.
“I think you are.”
“Really? And what are you? Psychic?”
“No. I don’t read minds, and neither do you. But you have...something.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Tarrytown, Irving, Sleepy Hollow—there’s a fair amount of territory. Miles of woods, streams, water and, hell, there’s a damned big river. But you immediately homed in on the right area. You found a head. Kind of like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Someone would have found it soon enough.”
“Yes,
He heard a trickling brook as he stepped out of his car and saw that the land sloped toward a forest. To his left, he could see the river. As he paused, he thought that the air itself felt electric, shivering with a strange sense of expectation.
He heard Rollo barking as he neared the door. Just 8:30 a.m. now. She might still be asleep.
No matter.
He knocked on the door.
It seemed she wasn’t much of a sleeper, either. She opened the door, apparently aware that it was him. She was already dressed for the day in jeans and a soft blue sweater. She looked at him with a frown, not alarmed that he was there, but surprised and wary.
“Agent Mahoney.”
“I need you to come with me,” he said.
She flinched. “Is someone else missing?”
“No. I need you to...to see whatever the hell it is you see.”
Some expression he couldn’t readily identify passed over her face. Her eyes didn’t meet his. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I don’t. If you think I can help in any way, I’ll come with you. But I don’t know what you’re expecting and I don’t know what you think I can do.”
“Yeah?” He was surprised by the hostility in his own voice. Great way to get someone to do what he wanted. “All right, fine. Just come.”
She seemed to dislike the very sight of him. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse. The word
please
formed in his mind but didn’t make it to his lips.
“Rollo’s coming, too,” she said flatly.
“That’s fine. I like the dog.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
Neither of them said anything else, but the inference was there.
Yeah, he liked the dog—not her.
It was irrelevant; they didn’t have to like each other.
“Let me get his leash,” she said.
She stepped back inside. The door closed, and he wasn’t asked in.
For a moment he wondered if she’d locked him out and was calling her friend Lieutenant Purbeck to tell him the FBI man was crazy and that he was harassing her.
But the door opened again. She appeared with Rollo, who wagged his massive tail madly and nudged Aidan for attention. Aidan gave it to him briefly.
“Thank you,” he said formally.
She didn’t respond but strode to his car, letting Rollo hop into the backseat.
“Where are we going?”
“The cemetery.”
She didn’t ask why but remained silent as they drove. He was keenly aware of her beside him. Her head was high, the angle emphasizing the fine lines of her features. He inhaled her scent and for some reason, the fact that she was beautiful and poised and possessing such a demeanor of strength began to irritate him.
When they reached the site and parked, she led the way up the hill, weaving through the stones and memorials with the dog and coming to a halt before the tomb.
She turned to look at him. “Why are we here?”
He answered her question with another. “Why did you come here yesterday?” he asked.
“You saw. Rollo was on the scent!”
“Yes, I saw. But how did you get to the head? Richard’s head,” he added, as if there was any risk she might misunderstand.
She flushed. “I’m...not sure,” she said.
“I think you are.”
“Really? And what are you? Psychic?”
“No. I don’t read minds, and neither do you. But you have...something.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Tarrytown, Irving, Sleepy Hollow—there’s a fair amount of territory. Miles of woods, streams, water and, hell, there’s a damned big river. But you immediately homed in on the right area. You found a head. Kind of like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Someone would have found it soon enough.”
“Yes,
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