Page 77 of Brimstone Hollow

I’m alone in a sun-baked field. The cicadas are screaming. Thunder rumbles.

“Annie-Girl?” a voice says. I turn but it isn’t my father standing there.

“Chief?” I say. My voice is the voice of a child, high and frightened.

A huge hand hovers above us; gold and silver, it glints in the bright sun. Blinding.

“It’s okay,” Dishman says. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The hand moves, words appearing in the air between us, words I can’t make out. They wriggle and shimmer like a mirage.

And then there’s a loudBANG!

A gunshot or thunder, I can’t tell which. I bolt awake, sweating on top of the covers.

I grab my phone and, before I’ve even registered what I’m doing, I call Dishman’s number.

“Annie?” he says. “What’s going on? Did you find something?”

“What?” I say, still muzzy and confused. I look at the old clock on the nightstand. It’s almost 5:00PM. The golden afternoon light shines through the gap in the curtains. Blinking, I let out a huge yawn. My days and nights have become so topsy-turvy that I’ve slept almost the whole day away.

“Annie?” Dishman says, sounding worried now. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry, I just… Actually, I don’t know why I called. I, um… What’s going on there? Did your other officers find anything on the footage?”

“Nothing yet. But I’m not at the station,” he says. “I’m at Ezra’s church.”

“The church? Why? Did something happen?”

“Somebody broke into the parsonage. Heaven knows what they might’ve taken. People are showing up here, treating Ezra’s house like some kind of holy shrine. It looks like someone also swiped the keys to the church office and rooted around in there. Though nobody can be sure. There’s almost eighty people here now. The place is a circus.”

“I’ll be right there,” I say, and hang up before he can argue.

TWENTY-TWO

EVEN BEFORE I GETout of the car, I hear the music. The piano and the guitar are barely audible over the mass of voices, all joined together, droning out “Amazing Grace.” I walk up the steps and look inside the double doors but don’t see Dishman or Will Carpenter. Instead, I find both of them standing outside the back door, where Dishman is apparently midway through giving Will a lecture.

“You can’t just leave the keys to this place lying around, Will,” Dishman says, and his calm voice makes it all the worse. His disappointment is so much more effective than rage.

Will nods, sheepishly.

“What were you thinking?”

“I just put them down for a minute. They were on the counter, next to the sink and… I mean, I didn’t think someone wouldtakethem!”

He looks like he’s about to cry, his big brown eyes wet and his chin trembling.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

“The parsonage is a crime scene,” Dishman tells him, more softly now. “Don’t let anyone else in there.”

Will nods.

“And keep the keyswithyou,” Dishman says. “Or we’ll confiscate them.”

Another nod.

“I’m going to go have another look in the parsonage,” Dishman says. Then, to me, he mutters, “Annie, get him inside.”