Page 30 of Where The Devil Kneels

“Three individuals have been reported missing since May 27th.” He flips a page in his notebook. “That was the day you first came to look at the estate, correct?”

My chest tightens. He’s been checking my timeline. “Yes, I came to inspect the property that day. Didn’t move in until June 7th, though.”

He nods, making a note. “Thomas Webb was last seen on May 30th. Ellen Mercer disappeared on June 3rd. Maria Guthrie hasn’t been seen since June 12th.” His eyes flick up to mine. “You familiar with any of these names?”

I shake my head, feeling the same cold weight in my stomach as when he questioned me last time. “No, Officer Peck. Like I told you when you first came by, I don’t know these people.” My fingers twist in my lap. “I’ve barely met anyone since moving in. Just the grocer, the hardware store clerk, and now you, twice.”

“Mmm.” He makes another note. “Mind telling me where you were the night of June 12th? That would’ve been… on a Tuesday.”

Tuesday. I was here, alone. Well, as alone as one gets in a house where someone else lives in the walls. “I was here at the estate. Working late in the library, cataloguing some of the older books.”

“Anyone who can verify that?” His pencil hovers over the page.

“No,” I admit. “I was by myself.”

“And June 3rd? That was a Monday, about a week before you officially moved in.”

My mind races. I’d driven up to check on some repairs, spent the afternoon here, then headed back to the city. “I was here in the afternoon, then drove back to my apartment around six.”

“Anyone see you leave? Anyone with you at either location?” His tone remains professional, but there’s a note of doubt creeping in.

'Not that I can think of.' Sweat breaks out along my hairline. This feels less like routine questions and more like he’s trying to prove I don’t have an alibi.

Officer Peck makes another note, his expression carefully neutral. “And May 30th?”

Before I can answer, the front door opens with a bang that makes us both jump. Heavy footsteps cross the foyer, accompanied by the distinctive sound of mud being tracked across my hardwood floors.

Rafe Calder appears in the foyer doorway, tool belt slung low on his hips and work boots leaving dirt clumps in his wake. His weathered face registers surprise at finding me with company, especially when that company wears a badge.

“Miss Hale,” he says, touching the brim of his cap. “Officer Peck.” His eyes dart between us, sharp and assessing. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Door was unlocked. Came to finish that basement repair we started.”

“Basement repair?” Officer Peck asks, his pencil poised.

Rafe nods, leaning his substantial frame against the doorjamb like he’s settling in for the long haul. “Been helping Miss Hale shore up that east foundation wall.Started Tuesday, the 12th. Worked late into the evening, if I recall.” He scratches his stubbled chin. “Showed her how to mix the right mortar for these old stones. Messy business.”

I stare at him, momentarily stunned. June 12th, the night of Maria Guthrie’s disappearance, for which I have no alibi. Except now, apparently, I do.

Officer Peck’s brow furrows. “You were here Tuesday night? With Miss Hale?”

“Till near midnight,” Rafe confirms with a casual certainty that would convince anyone. “These old houses, foundation work can’t be rushed. Miss Hale’s quite the student, got her hands dirty mixing cement, learning the proper techniques.” His eyes meet mine briefly, a silent message passing between us. “She’s determined to do this restoration right. Respects the craftsmanship.”

Officer Peck looks between us, something like relief flickering across his features. “I see. That’s… helpful to know.” He scribbles in his notebook, then snaps it closed with more force than necessary. “Well, I think that covers my questions for now.” He stands, straightening his uniform. “Appreciate your time, Miss Hale.”

I walk them both to the door, mind racing. Why did Rafe lie for me? How did he know exactly which night to provide an alibi for?

“If you remember anything about those dates, or see anything unusual around town, you’ll let me know?” Officer Peck asks as he steps onto the porch.

“Of course,” I promise, the lie bitter on my tongue.

Rafe lingers a moment longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish that work,” he says, his gaze steady and meaningful. “Don’t worry about the foundation. Some things just need proper support to stand strong.”

After they leave, I close the door and lean against it, my heart pounding. Three people are missing, all after I arrived. That can’t just be a coincidence.

“Silas,” I call out to the empty house, my voice echoing through the silent halls. “I know you’re listening. We need to talk about these disappearances. Now.”

For a moment, nothing changes, just the usual creaks and sighs of an old house settling. Then a shadow by the staircase deepens, separates from the wall, and Silas steps into the light, his tall form materializing as if conjured from the darkness itself.

The library doors close behind us with a soft click that feels final, like we’re locking ourselves in with secrets. Silas moves smoothly, lighting the brass lampsas he walks. The warm light makes the room glow, shining on the old books and polished tables. I stand near my usual chair, suddenly unsure where I fit in this room that now feels tense. Three people are missing. Three lives interrupted. And I have a feeling Silas knows exactly where they went.