stirred.
When he moved into the light, he could see the road lay in front of him. Emerging carefully, he glanced in both directions looking for any sign of the horse. But there was nothing, except long shadows cast by the moonlight.
He could stay here, but it was possible the Horseman had gone back. Maybe now was his only chance. He knew the bridge was to his right. It couldn’t be that far. With an effort, staying close to the forest on the far side of the road, Quinn started jogging as quietly as he could.
With every step, he started to feel better. The overwhelming presence of his pursuer was gone-that feeling like somehow he was just behind him out of sight. Maybe he would be free this time. Maybe he could reach the bridge.
He saw it now, far down the road. It was approximately a half-mile away-a few minutes, he thought. That’s all I need, Quinn thought, a few minutes.
He gathered up his remaining energy and started to run. It was a dead run, with all the energy he could manage. With every step, the bridge was closer.
That’s when it happened. The pounding of hoof beats exploded out of the forest behind him. Quinn didn’t dare look, he just kept running. Somewhere behind him he could hear the horse kicking up the clay as he pounded his way toward the bridge. A dark hollow laugh echoed high above the trees and Quinn’s blood ran cold.
One minute, he thought-I’m so close this time.
But he knew he wasn’t going to get it. The horse’s gallop sounded ever closer, a noise that was pounding into his brain with every step. The laugh rang out again as Quinn stumbled.
The horse was on top of him. Quinn could hear the blade come out of the Horseman’s sheath. Could hear it positively ringing in the cold fall air as it began its stroke. And Quinn knew where it would be aimed. He could almost feel the blade as it approached his neck.
He could see the bridge, only yards away. But he wouldn’t make it.
Quinn knew he was a dead man.
He knew what it felt like to die.
When he woke up, he was screaming.
Friday, Oct. 13
Quinn came in early in the morning and was again one of the first in the office. He felt tired and worn down but forced himself to start working. It was the only way to get his mind off the nightmares. He checked off several ideas on his agenda. He had to keep following up the Kilgore murder, had to write up that piece on Terry and…
Talk to Buzz, he remembered. See if Buzz could think of anything that happened in the Chronicle building.
After a moment, he found a note stuck to his desk keyboard.
“Don’t forget about the dog story,” it read.
Quinn crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. He didn’t even look at the signature-a loopy giant H. The dog story? He had written the lead of the paper this week and Helen was still forcing a story about dog shit. It was enough to drive you nuts.
He was also surprised to find his voicemail light blinking. Surely Helen hadn’t decided to leave a voice message as well?
But it wasn’t Helen. Instead it was a message from an old source of his asking for a meeting.
Quinn wondered what it meant. Why was Dee calling him now?
He would have to wait until school was out to go meet him, so he spent the remainder of the day working on his Terry story and making calls to find an update on the Kilgore case.
He barely saw Kate, who came in before lunch, but then was off again. Janus told him it was for some profile that Laurence wanted.
At about 2:00 p.m., Quinn left to head over to Loudoun County High School.
Janus grabbed him on the way out.
“You need me to come?” he asked.
“Nah,” Quinn said. “A source asked for a meeting. Don’t know what it’s about. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Quinn shook his head as he walked down the stairs and out the back door of the building, glancing into the printing press room as he passed by.
He arrived at Loudoun County High School near the edge of town five minutes later. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to go there, but couldn’t. The building was smallish and dull-gray, with a football field and bleachers not far behind it. It had little to distinguish it from countless other schools.
Quinn walked around the edge of the parking lot and entered a back door. Technically he wasn’t supposed to go into the high school, not after the story he had written last summer about its growing marijuana problem. But he also had recently written a glowing profile of the policeman on duty at the school and figured that would ease any complications that might arise if he were caught. It was also after school hours and he thought it unlikely anyone would spot him.
Dee was in the appointed place.
“What’s up?” Dee said, leaning against a locker near a science lab.
“You called and I came,” Quinn said. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been all right,” Dee said. “But I’ve got something to tell you. It’s important.”
Quinn nearly laughed. Dee somehow always had a serious look on his face, like any minute the sky was going to collapse on top of him. Quinn liked him, but it was damn hard to take the kid with anything but a grain of salt.
“Sure, what is it?” Quinn responded.
“Not here, man,” he said and gestured inside an empty classroom.
Quinn sighed. This was probably a waste of time. When they got into the room, Dee shut the door.
“I can’t be seen talking to you,” he said.
“The marijuana article was over a year ago, Dee,” Quinn replied, smiling. “I’m sure they've forgotten about it.”
“No, it isn’t that,” Dee said. “They haven’t forgotten about it either, but that ain’t the point.”
“Then what is?” Quinn asked.
“I know something about that murder,” Dee said, still looking nervously at the door.
“Mary Kilgore?” Quinn said, suddenly taking the entire conversation a lot more seriously.
“Yeah, the chick from Middleburg,” Dee said.
“What do you know, Dee?”
“Like who killed her, man,” he said.
“Everybody knows that,” Quinn said. “The police arrested her husband.”
“It wasn’t him, man,” Dee said. “No way it was him.”
“Look, Dee, just calm down and level with me. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw him,” Dee said. “Two weeks ago. Jacob and I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
“The guy who killed that woman,” Dee said. “He was dressed up, but I’m sure it is the same guy. I’m sure of it.”
“How do you know he did it?”
“Shit,” Dee said. “I’ve seen some weird things in my time. But I saw this dude try to take Jacob’s head off.”
Quinn was lost.
“Just tell me what you saw,” Quinn said. He wasn’t sure if Dee knew anything at all, but the kid was obviously nervous. He sure thought he had something.
“Jacob and I were out near Purcellville the other week,” Dee said.
“When?” Quinn asked him.
“A week ago Saturday, I think,” he said.
“You were scoring some dope?” Quinn asked.
“Shut up!” Dee said fiercely, looking at the door. “These walls aren't exactly soundproof.”
