“Sorry,” Quinn said.
“Yeah,” Dee muttered. “We were out there, doing business, when we heard something coming. We couldn’t tell what it was at first.”
“Where were you?”
“Out along Gallows Road near…” Dee said, looking irritated by the interruption.
“A good place to stay out of the way,” Quinn said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dee replied. “We thought maybe it was a cop, or something. We didn't know what to think. Then I figured it out-it was a guy on a horse. You could hear the sound all around you, man. It sounded like it was hell bent for leather.”
“A horse?” Quinn asked and felt his throat constrict. Almost immediately, his palms started to sweat. Dee didn’t notice.
“It was a horse all right,” Dee said. “You could see him coming down the road, riding like the wind.”
“Could you see who it was?” Quinn asked.
“Are you kidding, man?” Dee asked. “It was the dead of night-and you see some crazy fucker riding straight at you. How likely is it you’re going to get an ID?”
“What was he dressed like?”
“Dressed like?” Dee asked, his face knotted up in frustration. “You aren’t getting it.”
“Getting what?”
“Let me finish my goddamn story and you will,” he replied. “It was like nothing I’ve ever seen, man. The rider had this huge cape and the horse looked… demonic, you know? I could see his red eyes staring right at me. I thought for sure I was going to lose my head.”
“You panicked?” Quinn asked, growing more uncomfortable by the second.
“No, I mean it literally,” Dee replied, looking straight at Quinn. “This dude had no head. He was dressed like the Headless Horseman. You know, the one in that movie?”
Quinn felt like he had been punched in the gut. His throat closed in and he had trouble pulling in oxygen. He nodded only briefly as Dee continued.
“He just ran right past me, but I thought I was a goner,” Dee said. “I was seriously toast.”
“Jacob?” Quinn croaked.
“Jacob was fine,” Dee replied. “But I think the guy may have tried to take a swipe at him. He was so close, it looked like he ran through him. Jacob shit himself, I know that. But he didn’t lose his head.”
Dee stopped and looked at Quinn strangely.
“You feel okay, man?” he asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m fine,” Quinn managed, still feeling like his head was spinning. “What did you guys do?”
“Do?” Dee asked. “Jesus, man, what do you think we did? We ran like hell after he left.”
“So you didn’t see where he went?”
“We didn’t exactly stick around to find out what the hell was going on.”
“Then what makes you think this horseman killed anyone?”
“What makes me think it?” Dee asked. “Christ, man, I thought you were smart. You asked all those questions when you wanted to do your dope story, made the school look bad. You seemed pretty crafty. Where is your head now? Stuck under a rock? When a dude dresses up like the fucking Headless Horseman and then somebody dies with their head no longer attached to their body, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together, you know?”
Quinn still felt short of breath.
“But maybe it was the husband…”
“Maybe, if he liked to get all dressed up,” Dee shot back. “You telling me there is some killer out there as well as some motherfucker dressing up like a ghost? Because I’m not sure what bothers me more. The idea that some son-of-a-bitch is out there taking people’s heads off, or the fact that he is just one of two psychos in the area. It’s the same guy, man. It has to be.”
“Why haven’t you gone to the police?” Quinn asked.
“Oh, well, I’ll just go fucking do that, won’t I? ’Hey, Sheriff Brown, you know when I was buying drugs from your son, he and I just happened to see some whacked out motherfucker dressed up like a guy from that Johnny Depp movie?’ I’m sure they would give me a fucking medal for that, don’t you think?”
“I see your point,” Quinn replied, reaching in his head for something intelligent to say. But all the knowledge had been sucked out somehow. One line kept repeating itself: The dream is real. The dream is real. You thought you heard him the other morning. You were right. He’s real. The Headless Horseman is real.
“Jacob hasn’t talked about it, man,” Dee said. “I wasn’t going to mention it again, but after the murder… I tried to get him to speak up, maybe say something to his Dad. But he…”
“Jacob’s a shit,” Quinn said. “He doesn’t give a damn about anybody but himself.”
“Amen,” Dee said.
“I should have printed his name when I had the chance,” Quinn said to himself.
“You did that, you wouldn’t be in this county anymore. They would have run you out. You were cool, man. You had to play it cool. You know I appreciate that. My guys did too. If our names had been in the paper… Anyway, you have to pull your head out of your ass on this one. Because there is some serious freaky shit going down.”
“More than you know, Dee. More than you know.”
“Seriously, you look like you need a doctor,” Dee said.
“It’s nothing.”
“Look, I don’t want Jacob to know nothing about this,” Dee said. “But I felt like I had to tell somebody.”
“Thank you, Dee,” Quinn replied. “I really appreciate it. I do.”
“Do you?” Dee asked. “You look more sick than excited.”
“Let’s just say you caught me off guard,” Quinn replied.
“But you believe me, right?” Dee asked.
“I believe you, Dee. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
“Good,” he said. “Look, I’ve got to split. I’m done with this, okay? I told you, my conscience is clear. So don’t have no cops show up and ask me about it, okay?”
“It’s off the record, don’t worry,” Quinn said.
“Alright man,” Dee said and shook his hand. Two seconds later, he was out the door.
Quinn sat down in one of the chairs. He needed to think. Someone had actually seen the Horseman. He couldn’t believe it. Although Dee was a pot smoker, he wasn’t a liar and wasn’t inclined toward making stuff up. During the whole weed story, he had been one of the few reliable sources of information.
Quinn put his head in his hands and stared at the desk. So it was real. The dreams had been forecasting something, just as he feared. A voice from the darker part of his mind piped in: What did you think was going to happen? Did you honestly believe it was going to go away? That it was all in your head?
He hadn’t, Quinn realized. He had felt this sense of dread all month and it had been increasing every day. When he heard about the murder, it only confirmed what he had seen coming all along. Hadn’t he slipped up and said something about the Horseman to Gary when he called? But he hadn’t connected the Horseman with the killing. Maybe it was that serial killer or maybe someone who knew the woman. But he hadn’t thought of it. It was just a dream. But what if it wasn’t? Quinn kept wondering what he was going to do.
The Headless Horseman was riding in Loudoun. His nightmare was real.
Kate came back to her desk, sat down and sighed. She loved being a reporter, but she wondered how she was going to turn that particular business story into a good profile. It bored her, it bored Josh in photography. She had to face it-it was just boring.
She looked around the room for Quinn to commiserate with, but only Alexis and Helen appeared to be there.
With a start, she realized that her voice message light on the phone was blinking. She had not noticed.
She picked up the phone and dialed in. The voice on the other end surprised her.
“Trina, this is Sue Redacker,” the woman said and Kate bristled at the sound of her old nickname. “Johnny needs to talk to you. He said as urgently as possible. But he was a little worried to leave a message himself.”
Mrs. Redacker named a time and place and Kate started to worry.
