Page 5 of Halloween in Sleepy Hollow
My pulse jumps. “Kids messing around the dark, maybe? Playing hide and seek?”
“Maybe,” Shea agrees. She leans against me. “But let’s get into the library, anyway. Like… now? Okay?”
Thea nods emphatically. “Yes. That sounds like anexcellentidea.”
Her arm locks around mine as she practically drags me towards the back of the library.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” I assure her. But I would probably sound more convincing if my own voice wasn’t shaking. “Like Shea said, just kids messing?—”
[“Help!”
From the shadows, a woman emerges.
She’s dressed as a witch, with a tight black corset and a ragged skirt that wraps around her ankles as she runs towards us. Upon closer inspection, her makeup is streaked with tears and her mascara is smudged in dark crescents beneath her eyes.
She’s young. Maybe mid-twenties at the most. But her terrified expression makes her appear even younger than that.
“Help me,” she pleads. “I—” With a stumbling step, shetrips on the uneven sidewalk and pitches forward to land on her hands and knees.
Shea lets go of my arm and rushes forward to her. “What happened?” she asks. “Did someone hurt you?”
The woman looks up at Shea and lets out a shuddering sob. “I was supposed to meet up with my friends. At O’Henry’s. But I heard a sound in the alley. Like a cat crying. And—” Her voice breaks.
I drag Thea along with me as I hurry to join Shea.
A sick feeling builds in my stomach.
Poisonous memories worm their way to the surface.
Of the dizziness. The nausea. The claustrophobia.
The terror.
Did someone drug this poor woman but miscalculate the dosage, just like what happened to me?
Did someone—a man, a bigger man, maybe one dressed all in black so he could lurk in the shadows—grab her? Threaten her?Hurther?
Dropping to my knees in front of the crying woman, I try to keep my voice steady despite the fear surging through me. “It’s okay,” I soothe. “We’ll help you. Whatever happened, you’re safe now.”
Thea clutches my arm to the point of pain. Her breaths come in shallow, uneven bursts. “I can’t call for help,” she says quietly. “My phone…”
Shea rubs the woman’s arm gently. “We can go into the library. It’ll be safe there. And we’ll call for help. Okay?”
The woman lifts her gaze to meet Shea’s. Panic flashes in her eyes. “What if he… he…” Another sob slips out and she buries her face in her hands.
Shea glances at me. Even in the darkness, her worry is clear. “I need to call Oliver. Have him come right away.”
Thea moves to the young woman’s side and reaches her hand out to her. “Come on. Let’s get to the library. I’m one of the librarians there, so I can get us in.”
My heart is thundering; the sound almost deafening in the night’s stillness.
As Thea grasps the woman’s hand, I loop my arm around her waist, helping her to stand. She sways for a moment before regaining her balance. Her tearful gaze turns to me. “I… I know you. You were my English teacher. Senior year. Ms. Quinn. Right?”
“Yes.” I hug her to my side. “And you’re Emily.”
Relief washes across her face. “Yeah. Emily Warren. You were one of my favorite?—”
“Let’s get inside,” Shea interrupts. Tension strains her voice. She pulls her phone from her purse and adds, “And I need to call Oll.Now.”
