“Remember I said I saw a dark blotchy form? One second she was there, stark white jacket against the muddy field; the next flash, she was replaced by a presence. I thought maybe something was in my eye, but I dreamed about it that night. I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier. I…”
“You thought we wouldn’t believe you,” Tom finished for him.
“Yeah. Exactly.”
“You’ve been a lot of help, Stew. Nothing else? Woman of undetermined build, height, and hair color walked behind there at ten PM the night Brittany was taken from her backyard, her pants, socks, and one shoe found in her parents’ outdoor trash can. The woman intermittently turned into a dark form, perhaps alternating with each flash of lightning. That sound about right?” Tom pretended he was reading it off his notepad.
“When you put it like that… forget I said anything.” Stew started for the door.
“Thanks for calling. Have a good day. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.” Tom shook the bewildered man’s hand and went to his car.
Once inside, he banged his palms against the steering wheel. God, he hated this case. This place didn’t feel right. Everyone he talked to had a predilection for the mysterious rumors surrounding the Smith family.
He raced down the road, wishing one of his leads had given him an inkling of hope.
Eleven
“What’s the rest of the story?” Brent didn’t even wait for the car doors to shut all the way to ask. Taylor’s aunt had kept at them for a while before excusing herself. They’d sneaked away quickly and quietly, and Taylor grabbed her keys from Brent. She was doing the driving today.
“Yeah, tell us what else you found out,” Isabelle said from the backseat. She was in the middle, knees pressing against the center console.
“Where was I?” Taylor asked them. She couldn’t remember. It felt like hours ago since they’d been in the basement discussing the journal.
“They started referring to the thing as ‘shadow man’,” Isabelle said.
Taylor sorted the details she’d found in her mind and remembered the next bit. “Two children vanished in a month, then another three. The village was devastated, and they blamed a man from another home. He was killed by Hans’ own hands, with an ax. There was no judge on that trial.” She was driving up the street but kept talking as she headed for the highway that would lead them to Gilden.
“That’s messed up,” Brent said. His seatbelt alert was chiming, and Taylor told him to strap in.
“They learned their mistake when another child went missing. Only this time, it was Otto, their son. As we read last night, Elisabeth’s husband and brother went to look for it, to end the Schattenmann, but what happened that night was almost beyond explanation. Her handwriting was cramped; small and hard to read. I could only make out a few of the words, but she talked about something called a bindung. That translates to ‘bond’. And I could read familie, which is obvious.
“From what I gathered, they made a bond with this creature. Isabelle, you said it yourself. Grandma talked about having sanctuary from it. A deal, but not for me. This has to have something to do with it.”
Isabelle grabbed Taylor’s arm from the backseat, drawing the steering wheel to the right. “Are you saying the Schmidts had their child taken and still cut a deal with it? Did they speak to it? Does it talk?”
Taylor tugged her arm free from her cousin’s grasp. “I don’t know. The last page is gone, torn from the book. But it sounds like it.”
Brent had been quiet, but now he chimed in. “This is too weird. Are you guys yanking my chain? Is this some sort of prank?” He tried to laugh, but it came out garbled and phony.
“Sorry, B. This is as real as it gets. Welcome to the real Taylor Alenn. You sure you want to come with us today? I could drop you off after we hit the psych ward.”
Taylor glanced at him from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t catch any flicker of regret. If anything, she loved him more from the determined look on his face. “I don’t think so. If this bastard is still lurking around, we have to stop it.”
He was a great man. Her dad was going to love him too. Her dad. He’d tried calling her, and she’d never called or texted him back. He’d know something was wrong.
“Did you hear me?” Brent asked.
“I forgot to call my dad.”
“So what? Call him later today, tell him you’re studying and that you’re fine,” Brent said.
“You don’t know my dad. If he calls and hasn’t heard back for a day, he freaks out. Him not calling or texting me is what has me freaked out.” Taylor imagined driving on the highway now, and seeing her mom and dad heading toward Red Creek in their Range Rover. Her little brother would be there as well, thinking about dragons and the upcoming baseball season.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just call him when we get there,” Isabelle said from behind them.
“Sure. I will.” Taylor kept driving up the quiet road that connected the towns. As usual, there weren’t many cars on it. This wasn’t a major interstate or anything. There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot up here, but the landscape was beautiful. Even in her frazzled state of mind, Taylor could appreciate the budding green trees, the melted snow run-off creating ponds in the ditches, and the grass springing to life all around them. She always thought it was strange to see the farms along the highway devoid of crops, and longed for the point of summer where she could roll her window down and smell the fresh growth, feel the heat on her face.
Gilden was coming up close: two miles, according to the last sign. The mental health care facility touched on the outskirts of the larger
