Page 36 of Where The Devil Kneels

“And when they don’t find any of that?” I ask, the words barely audible.

“They’ll create it if necessary.” His face hardens in the dim light. “Which is why we need to witness and document everything they do.”

He leads me down a narrower passage that forces us to turn sideways. Our bodies brush against each other in the confined space. The darkness feels thicker here, the air stale and undisturbed. My shoulder blades scrape against rough brick as Silas pauses again, this time at a junction where the passage widens slightly.

Through the opening, I see my beloved library transformed. Garrow has claimed it, positioning himself before the fireplace like a general addressing troops. His hands lock behind his back, chin lifted with practised authority, lips curled in what might pass for a smile if not for the predatory gleam in his eyes. Facing him stands Officer Peck, fingers worrying the brim of his cap, weight shifting between feet as if the floorboards beneath him might suddenly give way.

“—complete waste of manpower,” Peck is saying, his voice carrying clearly through the observation port. “We’ve searched every room on the first and second floors. There’s no sign of her or anyone else.”

Garrow’s smile doesn’t waver. “Then search again. Check for hidden rooms, false walls, concealed spaces.”

“Sir, the warrant only covers visible safety hazards and code violations. We’re already stretching its legal boundariesby—”

“Let me worry about the legal boundaries, Officer Peck.” Garrow’s voice drops to that silky, dangerous tone I remember from town hall. “Your job is to execute the search thoroughly and find me something—anything—I can use.”

“Use for what, exactly?” Peck asks, a note of defiance creeping into his voice.

Garrow sighs, a theatrically patient sound. “To demonstrate that Miss Hale is not of sound mind to maintain this historic property.” He moves to my desk, trailing his fingers across the surface like he’s already claiming ownership. “Her paranoid behaviour, her isolation, her reported conversations with empty rooms, all suggest someone in desperate need of professional help.”

“I’ve seen no evidence of that,” Peck says, standing straighter. “In my interactions with Miss Hale, she’s been perfectly rational and—”

“Your daughter started at Oakridge Elementary this fall, didn’t she?” Garrow interrupts, the question hanging in the air like a blade.

Beside me, Silas goes perfectly still. His fingers tighten against the wall, knuckles whitening with tension.

Peck freezes, confusion washing over his face. “What does Lily have to do with anything?”

“Beautiful school.” Garrow picks up a paperweight from my desk, examining it with exaggerated interest. “I was there last week for the board meeting. Mrs. Winters is her teacher, isn’t she? Room 106, on the east hallway with the yellow door.” He sets the paperweight down with deliberate precision. “She’s in the afternoon ballet class at the community centre too, I believe. Tuesdays and Thursdays with Miss Elena.”

The blood drains from Peck’s face. “Sir, I don’t—”

“Such a pretty house you’ve got on Maple Street,” Garrow continues, turning to face Peck fully now. “That blue with the white trim, your wife’s choice, I imagine? The one with the lovely climbing roses by the front porch.”

I cover my mouth to keep from gasping as I realize what’s happening. This isn’t just a threat—it’s a careful attack on Peck’s sense of safety. Garrow isn’t only threatening him; he’s showing that Peck’s whole life, especially his family, is being watched and is at risk.

Silas’s fingers press against the small of my back, a silent warning to stay quiet despite my horror. His breathing has changed, becoming carefully controlled, as if he’s containing something dangerous.

“I need your signature on a report, Officer Peck,” Garrow says, voice light as if they’re discussing nothing more significant than the weather.

“Documenting your observations of Miss Hale’s erratic behaviour, her inability to maintain this property safely, and your professional concerns about her mental state.”

“You want me to lie,” Peck says, the words barely audible.

“I want you to consider your priorities very carefully.” Garrow moves closer to Peck, dropping all pretense of pleasantry. “Your career. Your mortgage. Your daughter’s safety. These things matter, don’t they? Far more than some inherited house and a woman you barely know.”

Peck’s face contorts with the impossible calculation he’s being forced to make, his integrity against his daughter’s safety. I watch the struggle play out in real time, see the moment when paternal instinct overwhelms professional ethics. His shoulders slump in defeat.

“I’ll need to write up the report,” he says, each word sounding like it’s being dragged from him.

“Already prepared.” Garrow reaches into his jacket and extracts a folded document. “Just needs your signature and badge number.”

My stomach twists with both anger and pity. Before now, I thought Peck might be part of the town’s corruption. Now I see he’s just another victim of Garrow’s control, forced to choose between two terrible options.

I turn away from the viewing port, my back pressing against the wall as I try to process what I’ve witnessed. Silas remains watching, his profile sharp in the dim light filtering through the peephole.

“This is how he controls everyone,” I whisper, the realization crystallizing. “Threats disguised as conversation. Surveillance masked as casual observation.”

Silas nods once, finally stepping back from the viewing port. “Every person in this town lives under his shadow. Some know it. Most don’t recognize the cage until they try to leave it.”