There Comes A Horseman

By Laura/MotownGirl

Chapter 1

Trixie Belden sighed and brushed her blonde curls off her forehead as she saved the case file on her computer. She looked out the open window of Belden-Wheeler Investigations and breathed in the scent of early autumn. The days were still warm, but the leaves were just beginning to turn due to the recent crisp nights. She sighed again, drawing the attention of her partner Honey Wheeler, who was working at her own desk across from Trixie’s.

“What’s wrong, Trix?” Honey asked. She and Trixie, who had been best friends since Honey moved to Sleepyside, New York the summer when they were both 13, had finally realized their dream of starting their own detective agency a few months earlier. They had a steady case load, thanks in part to referrals from Honey’s father and many of the people they had helped throughout their teen years.

“I don’t know – nothing, really. I just thought we’d be working more exciting cases,” replied Trixie. “I know I should be happy that we’re finally in business, but something seems to be missing.” She felt almost guilty saying anything negative. They had rented a large restored Craftsmen-style house in town that was already converted for business use as part of the town’s effort to preserve historic buildings. Their offices were on the first floor, and they shared a large apartment on the second floor, making it that much easier to manage their personal and business budgets. They couldn’t have found a better spot. They were close enough to New York to vie for that city’s clientele while still being near their friends and family.

Honey’s adopted brother, Jim Frayne, had just finished graduate school and was in the process of building a school for troubled youth on Ten Acres, the property left to him by his great uncle. At one time everyone thought Jim and Trixie would end up together, but they remained nothing more than close friends. Honey was engaged to Trixie’s oldest brother, Brian, a physician who was currently a resident at Valhalla Hospital in White Plains.

All four were members of the Bob-Whites of the Glen, along with Trixie’s brother Mart and their friends Diana Lynch and Dan Mangan. Although the club was formed a dozen years earlier, the friends still considered it to be an important part of their lives and they got together often, as all of them had remained in the area.

Diana and Mart, who had married a couple of years earlier, lived in White Plains. Mart, who had attended Cornell University for its agricultural program, found himself drawn to culinary studies and took advantage of the university’s alliance with the Culinary Institute of America. He discovered a love for cooking and creating new dishes, and was now the assistant to the executive chef at 42, a 4 star restaurant in White Plains. Diana had focused on her talents as an artist and was working towards her first exhibit at a gallery in NYC.

Dan had followed his dream of becoming a police officer, but had found that he didn’t like living in the city and was soon disillusioned by the big-city scene. He also missed Trixie. While they had been close friends for years, their friendship had suddenly developed into something much more during college. He was hoping to find a position with the force in Sleepyside or the surrounding area sometime soon.

We’re all so lucky, Trixie thought. I’ve got nothing to complain about.

“I’ve got an idea,” Honey said, breaking through Trixie’s reverie. “It’s already 3 o’clock, and I just finished the notes on the Cooper file. Why don’t we go for a ride? It’s been over a week since we’ve ridden, and it’s a beautiful afternoon.”

Trixie grinned, her mood bouncing back. “That sounds like a great idea, Hon! Let’s go!”

Honey giggled. “I sure didn’t have to twist your arm! I guess this is one of the advantages of owning our own business – we can play hooky whenever we choose!”

Thirty minutes later found them entering the preserve on their favorite mounts. Honey’s father had maintained a stable of horses since moving to Manor House. Bill Regan had been the Wheeler’s groom the entire time, although he now also had his business training show horses. He was well-known as being the one of the best trainers in the state.

“Let’s go in a different direction today, Trixie said. “I feel like we’re stuck in a rut. We haven’t been to the southern part of the preserve in a while.”

Honey nodded her agreement. “Remember when we used to get lost whenever we rode in that section of the preserve? At least our sense of direction is a bit better now.”

Trixie laughed. “Well, even Jim got lost that one time when we were looking for Reddy, and he was supposed to know the preserve like the back of his hand. I still can’t believe Brian, Jim and I ended up stuck in that old schoolhouse overnight – and that Brom and Mr. Maypenny’s places were only a stone’s throw away from it!”

Brom Vanderheidenbeck was an elderly man who lived in a small, very old cottage on the Wheeler’s preserve. His family had been amongst the earliest settlers of the Hudson Valley. He was almost a hermit, but was a kind old man who knew many stories of magic and myth and loved to share them with Trixie’s and Diana’s younger brothers when they were little. The Bob-Whites first met him when visiting Mrs. Vanderpoel, a neighbor who often fed Brom when he needed a bit of help. He was short and rotund, and had a long beard, though he was bald except for a fringe of white hair around his head.

“We should stop and see Brom,” said Honey. “Mrs. Vanderpoel said that he’s started to get forgetful, and she worries about him.”

“He must be like, what, 80 now?” Trixie mused.

“I’m not sure. He seemed pretty old when we first met him twelve years ago, but he might not have been as old as he seemed.”

As they rode further towards the far edge of the preserve, the sky grew gray and the woods seemed different somehow.

“Have we ever actually ridden to this spot before?” Honey asked as she involuntarily shivered. “It feels kind of creepy.”

“I think we always turned off towards Mrs. Vanderpoel’s at that last fork. We’re almost out of the preserve now. I don’t even know who owns the land next to the preserve, do you?”

“I’m not sure. It may be part of Sleepy Hollow, or maybe it’s owned by the county or state. I’m sure Daddy would have bought it if it had been for sale. He wants to keep as much of the land in its natural state as possible, you know.”

Trixie was looking into the distance where the trees were very close together when she suddenly saw something very tall dart between the trees.

“Honey!” she gasped. “I just saw something move in the trees!”

Honey laughed. “What’s so odd about that? There are loads of deer, not to mention other wildlife, in these woods.”

Trixie shook her head. “This wasn’t a deer. It was tall, like seven FEET tall, and it looked like it had some kind of horns.”

Honey stared at Trixie. “What? There’s no animal like that! You must be working too hard.”

“Let’s go see what, or who, it is,” replied Trixie. “Maybe someone is lost.”

“No way! I don’t care who or what it is. The trail ends right here, and the trees are too thick to take the horses through there. Besides, if someone was lost, they would have called out. We’re easy enough to see on our horses.”

Trixie sighed, giving in to Honey’s logic. “OK, I guess you’re right. But what could that have been? I know I didn’t imagine it.”

“Maybe it was Nomakata,” giggled Honey. Let’s go check on Brom before we have to head back. It’s almost four thirty.”

Trixie and Honey soon found themselves approaching Brom’s cottage. The sky had cleared the farther away from the edge of the preserve they rode.

“I forgot how close Brom’s house is to the edge of the preserve,” commented Trixie.

“The distances in the woods have always confused me,” agreed Honey.

They dismounted and knocked on the door. All of the windows were closed, which seemed unusual on such a nice day. When there was no answer, Trixie knocked again and called out, “Brom, it’s Trixie and Honey.”

They heard movement inside the cottage, then the door opened and Brom peered out at, then beyond, the girls.

“Hello, Brom,” Honey said cheerfully. “We were out for a ride and thought we’d stop by to visit since we hadn’t seen you in some time.”

Brom smiled, although he appeared to be pre-occupied with something. “Come in, girls. Would you like a cup of tea?”

The girls accepted the offer of tea, and watched as Brom set the kettle on the wood stove. It was obvious that he had lost some weight, and he appeared somewhat haggard.

“Have you been ill, Brom?” asked kind-hearted Honey. “You look a bit peaked.”

“Me?” he scoffed. “No, I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Trixie and Honey exchanged looks; Brom was being evasive, but he was a naturally private person.

Brom placed loose tea into a strainer. “Did you ride all this way just to see old Brom?”

“Yes, but we actually rode to the southern edge of the preserve first. I don’t think we’d ever done that before,” Trixie said.

Brom looked at her sharply. “You didn’t leave the preserve, did you?”

“Why, no. The trail ends, and the trees are too dense to take the horses into the Sleepy Hollow woods.”

He visibly relaxed and took the now-whistling kettle off the stove to make the tea.

“Do you know who owns that land?” Trixie asked. “We weren’t sure if it was owned by the county or what.”

Brom set the teapot on the table and then turned to get the cups. He sat down slowly and looked at the girls intently. “It’s privately owned by a trust of some sort, I think. You girls should never go into the woods – not any of you kids. There’s evil there.”

Honey gasped. “Evil? What kind of evil?”

Maybe he’s starting to confuse his stories with reality, Trixie thought to herself. Maybe he’s getting senile. Outwardly she smiled. “You mean like there’s illegal activity or something going on?”

He stared at her, realizing that she was not taking the warning seriously. “No, missy, I don’t. I mean real evil. Moloch lives in those woods, and he’s making plans. You need to stay as far away from those woods, and Sleepy Hollow, as you can. Moloch preys on young people, so you be sure to tell Bobby and those Lynch boys to stay away too.”

“Who’s Moloch, and what kind of plans is he making?” Trixie asked incredulously.

“He’s a demon, and he’s gathering soldiers. He’s very tall and thin; has big horns like a ram. You don’t want to see him. He hides in the trees. I can’t tell you any more – just stay away from Sleepy Hollow. Lots of bad things happening there lately.

Someone killed the sheriff of Sleepy Hollow a few weeks back, and there’s been more deaths since – killings, suicides; it’s awful.”

Trixie opened her mouth to ask another question but Honey, realizing how upset Brom had become, gently interrupted, changing the subject. “Our agency is doing great, Brom. We hope you will come by and see our office the next time you go into town.”

“That’s right, you’re official detectives now.” He stopped and seemed to be considering something. “What exactly do detectives do these days?”

“Well,” Honey said, “we investigate when people or things go missing, or if someone thinks another person is doing something wrong, we try to find out if that’s so. We also do a lot of background checks and things like that for businesses who want to be sure they are hiring honest employees.” She really didn’t want to admit that a good part of their business so far involved spying on cheating spouses.

“What if someone wanted to be sure that something didn’t fall into the wrong hands? Would you keep it safe?” Brom asked.

“Sure,” Trixie answered. “But most people would use a safe deposit box for something like that, and it would be less expensive than hiring a private detective to store something.”

“Never have trusted banks,” mumbled Brom. He peered at Trixie from underneath bushy eyebrows.

“What kind of building is your office in? Is it one of those new modern places?”

The sudden change in subject caught the girls off guard for a moment. Honey recovered first saying, “No. We rented one of those beautiful Craftsmen homes on Main Street that have been converted into office space and apartments. We wanted our business to feel like it was part of the history of the town. We’ve been combing antique stores looking for interesting things with a local connection to decorate the office with.”

Brom nodded and brightened suddenly. “That sounds nice. You know, I have something I’d like to give you to put in your office.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Trixie objected, but Brom had already risen and was moving towards his bedroom. He was gone for several minutes, during which Trixie and Honey whispered with each other, making guesses as to what Brom intended to give them. The old man didn’t have much besides a few old maps, a couple of paintings, and some well-loved furniture. Brom returned holding a tarnished metal tube about twelve inches long and several inches in diameter.

“This has been in my family for a long time” he said, holding it under the light. “I’m the last of my line and I’d like it to have a good home.”

Trixie and Honey examined the tube. “It’s beautiful,” Honey observed. “What was it used for?”

“It was used to store and transport important documents, maps, that sort of thing. It prevented them from burning or getting wet, and it could easily be placed in a saddle bag or hidden in one’s boot.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Trixie. “That’s really cool; I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you sure you want to part with it?”

“Well, this type of object was often used by spies. It seems fitting to give it to you two detectives since you do spying, of sorts. I hope you can find a good spot to display it in your office.”

“Thank you so much, Brom!” exclaimed Honey. “We love it, and we’ll give it a place of honor. We don’t have anything else nearly as nice as this, and it means even more knowing it belonged to your family.”

Trixie nodded in agreement. “We’re honored that you would share a family heirloom with us.”

Brom nodded and mumbled “You’re welcome,” his face taking on a reddish tinge under his beard. He looked out the window. “It’s going to get dark soon. You’d best be going.”

The girls put their teacups in the sink in the small kitchen and made their way out to the horses, Brom trailing them as they said their goodbyes.

“You ride straight home now,” he cautioned. Honey and Trixie waved as they turned their horses toward home, the tarnished tube secured in Honey’s saddle bag. A wind had blown up and dark clouds scudded across the sky.

“The weather sure turned fast, didn’t it?” Trixie remarked.

“Yes, but remember it seemed cloudy near the edge of the preserve earlier, so it’s probably been moving in for some time.”

They cantered in silence most of the way back to the stables. The farther they got from Brom’s, the clearer the skies became. It was calm and sunny at Manor House.

Trixie looked up at the sky as they dismounted. “This weather is just strange!”

Honey laughed, shaking her head. “We’ve seen the weather change this fast before.”

“But something about those clouds and that wind just felt, I don’t know, creepy!”

“We both have the creeps after what Brom told us about a demon. Do you think he’s getting senile? I’ve never heard that name in any of his stories, but then I don’t think there have been demons in them, just witches and fairies.”

Trixie unsaddled her horse and began to curry her. “I don’t know, Honey. That demon he described sounds like that thing I saw in the woods.”

Honey almost dropped the saddle she was holding. “You think you saw a demon?” Since when do you believe in stuff like that?”

Trixie looked around to make sure the groom wasn’t within earshot. “Remember what he said about the sheriff of Sleepy Hollow being murdered? He made it sound like it was part of something bigger going on. The authorities kept everything hush-hush, like it was just a prowler call gone bad or something, but I heard that he was decapitated.”

“What? How does an armed officer get decapitated?” Honey asked, hands on her hips.

“Exactly – how? It doesn’t make sense. And there have been all kinds of reports of people dying in strange ways the past couple of months in Sleepy Hollow. Now today, Brom warns us away from Sleepy Hollow altogether.”

Honey shook her head. “I don’t believe in the paranormal; well, maybe a little bit, since what happened to us at the Sligo House, but demons and decapitations? It’s just too much!”

Trixie’s mind turned back to Brom’s gift. “It was sweet of him to give us that old document thingy,” she said. We’ll have to decide on a good spot for it; maybe we could have it mounted in a shadow box or something and hang it on the wall.”

“It was nice of him,” Honey agreed, “but it’s sad that he has no family left to pass things on to, especially since his family has been here in the Hudson Valley for so long.”

The girls finished grooming the horses and headed home. When they arrived Honey took the silver tube out of her bag and went to put it into the filing cabinet.

“Wait a minute, Honey. I want to look at that before you put it away,” said Trixie. “I didn’t get a good look at it in the cottage; it’s kind of dark in there.”

She picked up the tube and saw that the tarnish obscured beautiful engraving that she could not make out. “This tube is really old. I wonder if it still opens?” The cap on the end was secure and didn’t budge. She shrugged and handed it back to Honey before heading upstairs to start straightening up the apartment before the rest of the Bob-Whites started showing up for dinner. They were ordering pizza so they didn’t have to cook, but Trixie always put off housekeeping chores until she absolutely had to do them, so the place need a good vacuuming. Honey straightened her desk and locked the filing cabinet before following Trixie upstairs.

Later that evening Trixie told the rest of the group about their visit to Brom and what he had told them, although she omitted the part about possibly seeing a demon in the woods. Mart would never stop teasing her if she related that bit of information!

“What do you think, Brian? Could Brom be getting senile?” Honey asked.

“I don’t know. It’s possible. He is in his 80’s, but it could be something to do with blood flow to the brain or a variety of other reasons. I wish I he’d let me examine him, but I doubt he’s seen a doctor in decades.”

“I think we need to make sure we all check up on him more often,” said Jim. “Living all alone like that, he could have a stroke or something and no one would find him for days.”

“Oh, that would be terrible!” said Diana with tears in her eyes. “Should we create a schedule or something?”

“Brom would figure that out right away,” said Mart. He’s lived alone all his life, and if we all start suddenly showing up all time he ‘s not going to be happy.”

Dan nodded in agreement. “The best we can do is check on him occasionally, and we could also ask Mrs. Vanderpoel to invite him over to her house more often. That way she can kind of keep an eye on him too.”

“That’s a great idea, Dan!” exclaimed Trixie. Changing the subject suddenly she asked, “Have you heard about any weird stuff going on in Sleepy Hollow?”

“Wow, where did that come from?” Dan asked, eyebrows raised, “And what do you mean by weird?”

“You know, like unexplained deaths, stuff like that,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No, I haven’t, but I don’t have much contact with Sleepy Hollow PD,” said Dan.

Brian cleared his throat. “I might have heard something.”

“What? What have you heard?” Trixie almost jumped out of her chair.

“Calm down, Trixie,” Brian said. “It’s just some stuff I’ve heard through colleagues, and I can’t say for sure whether it’s true. In fact, I’d be surprised if it was.”

“Tell us!” Trixie bounced in her seat on the couch.

Brian hesitated before speaking. “Well, one of the residents I work with also does some part-time work at the county morgue, or should I saw he did. He quit last month; said there were too many odd things happening. Evidently Sheriff Corbin wasn’t shot by an intruder as the news reported. Jerry saw the body. He said that there were no bullet wounds, and that the sheriff’s head had been cut off.”

The rest of the group gasped as one. “How could someone cut another person’s head off unless he was already unconscious?” Trixie asked. Sheriff Corbin would have been armed, and the news said he had a deputy with him. Who would even have time to do something like that?” Trixie was just not ready to accept the fact the Brian was corroborating what Brom had told them earlier.

Brian held up his hands. “I’m just telling you what he told me. He also said that the wound was one long cut, like a sword or guillotine or something was used, and that the wound appeared to be cauterized. The sheriff had lost very little blood.” He looked increasingly uncomfortable as he spoke.

Diana, Honey, Mart and Jim looked very pale while Dan just looked grim, but Trixie was too excited to be nauseated by the information Brian had revealed. “Have you ever known this Jerry person to lie?”

Brian shook his head. “No. He seems like a very stable, honest guy, and he’s a good doctor.”

“Why didn’t you tell us all of this before?” Trixie demanded.

“For one thing,” Brian said, “I was kind of freaked out when Jerry told me what he had seen. I can’t figure out how the sheriff could be killed in that manner when he was armed and, as far as I know, didn’t experience a head injury prior to being killed. Secondly, if there’s some freaky killer out there, I didn’t want my sister and my fiancee’ to go hunting him down.”

“Hmph!” Trixie exclaimed. “You said ‘odd things’, plural. What else did he see that made him decide to leave his job at the morgue?”

Brian laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t miss a thing, do you Trix? Well, not long after that happened, a Reverend Knapp was killed at the Dutch Church in Sleepy Hollow, just like the sheriff.”

Dan stood up. “It sounds like Sleepy Hollow has a serial killer who like to decapitate people. I wonder why no bulletins have been put out to surrounding PD’s?”

“My guess is because it’s a cover up of some sort,” contributed Mart. “I’ll bet that the official cause of death for the reverend wasn’t decapitation.”

“No, Jerry said that was one of the things bothering him. The coroner’s report said it was death by stabbing. He was evidently standing outside the church at night when it happened.”

“I remember the story from the news, now,” said Honey. “It was reported as a mugging, but who would mug a reverend standing in front of his church?”

Brian sighed. “I’m afraid there’s more. Another body came in, a deputy who supposedly committed suicide in his cell after being arrested for assaulting a fellow deputy. Jerry said his head was bent so far back his neck looked like a pretzel.”

“How does that even happen?” asked Jim.

“He was said to have run headfirst into the wall of the cell, committing suicide, but I’ve never heard of an injury like that. A broken neck, sure, but not like that.”

Trixie, who had been silently listening, asked “There’s more, though, right? I can tell.”

Brian nodded. “The deputy’s body disappeared from the morgue, but the security cameras mysteriously stopped working that night.

“But – but that’s just impossible!” Trixie almost shouted. “Something bizarre is going on, and it’s obvious the police are covering it up!”

“I know there’s been an increase in suicides in the area lately too,” Brian added, “but I have no reason to believe there’s anything supernatural about them.”

Dan, who had been looking out the window, turned to the group. “While I don’t like to bad-mouth my own kind, in this case I agree that they are hiding something. I assume it’s for the public’s safety, but this is all just so strange. They probably don’t want to start a panic. I can’t explain the dead deputy disappearing from the morgue, but it’s certainly possible that there is a serial killer who uses some sort of sword to kill his victims.”

Diana, who had been very quiet, spoke up. “How did Brom know there were strange things happening? He doesn’t read the paper or watch TV, and he hardly ever goes anywhere but Mrs. V’s.”

“I don’t know, but from the way he worded it,” answered Trixie, “he sounded like he thought the things happening in Sleepy Hollow were connected to the ‘evil’ he insisted is in the woods.”

Jim hesitantly spoke. “I hate to admit this, but the woods at the far edge of the preserve have always given me a strange feeling.” He turned to Dan. “What about you, Dan? You’ve probably spent more time in that part of the preserve than the rest of us.”

Dan looked around at his friends before speaking. “It’s always seemed darker there, and there is some sort of mist that swirls around even when the weather is clear; I think it’s sort of swampy in places.” He stopped, then abruptly added, “There have been times when I thought I saw something odd darting through the trees. I always convinced myself that it was just the mist playing tricks on me, but to be perfectly honest I would just get the heck out of there. I don’t like going near that edge of the preserve, and neither did Mr. Maypenny.”

Trixie looked intently at Dan. “Can you describe what you think you saw, Dan?”

Dan shrugged. “Why? Do you think it was Brom’s demon? You don’t believe in that stuff!”

“I didn’t say anything earlier, because I figured Mart would just tease me all night, but I saw something in the woods today before we went to see Brom. It was a quick look, but I know it wasn’t a deer because it was too tall. It was sort of gray with long arms, and I swear it had some kind of horns…”

Mart burst into laughter. “You are seeing things, my dear Beatrix! Horns, indeed? Did he have hooves and a pitchfork too?”

Red faced, Trixie replied angrily, “Mart Belden! I know what I saw! It wasn’t devil horns; they were sort of curved, like the ones we saw on those rams at Uncle Andrew’s farm. When Brom described Moloch, he described the same sort of thing. I’m not saying what I saw was a demon, but something is in those woods!”

“I hate to admit it, but I saw the same thing as Trixie,” Dan spoke reluctantly, “so you can’t blame it on her imagination, Mart. I learned a long time ago not to discount things just because they are written about in stories. All stories have a truth in them somewhere.”

Diana’s eyes widened. “Do you think all of those stories Brom told the boys when they were younger were true?”

“Of course not,” Mart scoffed. “Those stories are just Dutch fairy tales.”

“They may be fairy tales now, but they had to start somewhere,” argued Trixie. “Brom’s family settled in these parts way before the Revolutionary War, you know. That case he gave us today looks like it’s hundreds of years old.”

“Where’s is it?” asked Mart.

“I left it downstairs in the office,” answered Honey. “It’s all tarnished and I’m sure it’s silver.”

“I wonder why he gave it to you two?” wondered Jim.

“He said he wanted it to have a good home, and he was glad that we opened the agency in an old building instead of a modern one. We told him we were decorating the office with old things with a local historical connection and he seemed to think it belonged here.”

Brian yawned, saying, “I don’t think we’re going to solve all of these mysteries tonight. I need to get going; I’ve got the early shift tomorrow. Trixie, I don’t believe in demons either, but I still think it’s a good idea to stay away from those woods.”

Trixie nodded. “I’m more concerned about Brom than anything, although I do want to find out more about what’s been going on in Sleepy Hollow.”

Jim groaned. “Please promise me you’ll stay away from guys with swords.”

Trixie smiled, “I promise. That doesn’t mean Belden-Wheeler Investigations can’t do a little digging into any suspicious deaths that have happened in the area recently.”

As Brian rose, the others began to make motions to leave as well. Dan was the last to leave after he and Trixie spent a bit of time together on the small balcony that had been added to the back of the second floor. Trixie and Honey both retired soon after. It had turned out to be a very tiring day.

Chapter 2

As the Bob-Whites were saying their goodbyes, in nearby Sleepy Hollow Lt. Abbie Mills sat in a large room at a desk surrounded by old books, maps, and very old furniture. Abbie’s mind wandered from the large tome she was reviewing. She still couldn’t believe how her life had changed so drastically in recent months. She had been prepared to leave for Quantico, thanks in part to the support and guidance of her good friend, mentor and boss Sheriff August Corbin. He had taken a wayward, troubled teen and helped her become a happy, stable, adult who was very good at her job in law enforcement. He was the only person, besides her sister, who knew why she had become troubled in the first place. She felt guilt surge through her as she thought of her sister, who had not been nearly as fortunate. When the girls were found after disappearing in the woods near Sleepy Hollow years before, Jenny had stuck by her story of being held in some sort of purgatory by a strange creature before being rescued by a member of a search party. Abbie had not supported Jenny’s story, too afraid to tell the truth. Jenny, diagnosed as delusional, had ended up institutionalized and would not speak with Abbie until they had recently reconciled when the Sandman, an evil member of Moloch’s army, had threatened Abbie.

Abbie had bounced from one foster home to another, and was arrested one night by Sheriff Corbin. He was easy to talk to, and she found herself telling him the story of the woods. He had listened intently and never questioned her integrity. He believed her story, and he believed in her. After his death, she discovered that he kept meticulous files of unexplained activity in the area. These files were a source she kept returning to now that he was gone.

So, life was as normal as could be expected for Abbie the night she and the sheriff received a call of a disturbance at a nearby farm.

Upon arrival, they saw a pickup truck parked, the driver’s door open. The horses in the barn were whinnying in panic. Abbie checked out the truck while Sheriff Corbin headed to the barn. Abbie discovered the driver of the truck dead, his rifle nearby, and radioed to the sheriff. Not receiving a response, she started towards the barn when she heard the sound of gunshots. Running towards the barn, the blade of a broad axe sliced through the barn door. The doors blew open and a rider on a white horse galloped out. The rider stopped briefly as Abbie looked up. The rider, who was wielding a broad axe, had no head! The rider wheeled the horse around and galloped into the night. Abbie had found her friend dead on the barn floor, his head cleanly removed.

Later that night, Deputy Andy Brooks had brought Ichabod Crane in on suspicion of being the killer. While he was quickly ruled out, he insisted that he was a professor at Oxford who, after coming to the colonies to fight for the Crown, had changed sides and was working with General Washington in the Colonial Army. He had killed a Hessian soldier, first shooting him and then beheading him, and had been wounded and dying himself. He remembered nothing until he woke in a nearby cave that night.

Even though he passed a polygraph he was destined for a stay in the psych ward, but subsequent events resulted in him being named a consultant for the department by Captain Irving. The Captain was a skeptic, but he could not deny that Crane seemed very sure that there was a headless Horseman roaming the area in search of his head.

Washington’s bible, found in the cave where Crane awoke, had a passage from Revelations marked, telling of the coming of the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Crane remembered Washington telling him that the war would determine the outcome of all of humanity, and he and Abbie had been trying to defeat the Horseman since. There was so much going on it was hard to keep track. Andy was involved with the Horseman somehow and was arrested after knocking her out when she was attempting to help Crane keep the Horseman’s skull away from him. He was later killed by something in his cell, something that was tall, gray and had horns. She knew what she saw, and that he hadn’t committed suicide, and Crane later discovered it was the demon Moloch who was orchestrating the coming of the horsemen – the same demon who had taken Abbie and Jenny years before.

They had also discovered, thanks to Crane’s wife Katrina, that the blood of Crane and the Horseman had mingled and their fates were intertwined. This was why Crane awoke from his protective sleep in the cave when Moloch summoned the Horseman. Fortunately, they had found a way to separate Crane from the Horseman with the help of the Freemasons and a sin eater.

Abbie shook her head. She didn’t know how long the Captain could keep the truth hidden from the public, who would totally freak out. She looked up at Ichabod Crane, who sat opposite her reading another manuscript. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “Can we call it a night?”

“You may leave any time you wish,” said Crane. I feel that I am very close to finding a clue, so I plan to continue my research.”

“You don’t have any way to get home if I don’t take you, Crane. You need to sleep too.” Crane was living in a motel, and it was not his favorite place to be, although the bed was comfortable enough.

Crane suddenly jumped up. “Here’s something. Evidently Moloch doesn’t control the entire woods, but is able to move around from spot to spot somehow. If we can find a chink in his armor, so to speak, perhaps we can weaken him from multiple directions.”

Abbie yawned. “Well, that’s just vague enough to make me want to throw in the towel for the night. Come on, we’ll hit the books again tomorrow.”

The next day found Trixie reviewing public records of incidents occurring in Sleepy Hollow during the past two months.

“This is strange, Honey. Seemingly stable people with no history of mental illness suddenly committing suicide in a violent manner, a man found incinerated in his car by the side of the road – yet the police have just written all of these cases off as if they happen every day.”

Honey sighed; Trixie had such a one-track mind! “Trix, I agree that those cases sound unusual, but weren’t you going to check Tony LaGreca’s financial records?”

Trixie blushed. “Yes, I kind of forgot. I’ll get started on that right now. Can you blame me for not being as interested in a potential small-time embezzler as I am a conspiracy by the policy to hide all kinds of mysterious happenings?”

“Don’t forget that Jameson Builders is paying us good money to investigate LaGreca. We don’t get to choose the mysteries we solve anymore. At least, not until we’ve made our first million,” Honey added with a smile.

Trixie good-naturedly switched tasks. Honey really is the best partner; I don’t know how she puts up with me sometimes. Two hours later she had ample evidence that their client’s employee was spending much more money than he earned at his job, and he didn’t appear to have any alternate source of legal income. The company’s books were being reviewed by a forensic accountant, and once they had the findings they could move to the next step.

Just then the phone rang. Trixie looked at the caller ID and, seeing it was Dan, answered “Schoolgirl Shamuses Incorporated.”

Honey looked up quickly and smiled as Trixie greeted Dan. Trixie put him on speaker.

“Hey, Freckles,” said Dan. I had forgotten that a guy I knew on the force, Frank Irving, took a job in Sleepy Hollow a while back. He’s the captain there now.”

“Ooh, that’s great! Do you think he’d meet with us?” Trixie bubbled.

“Hold up, Trixie. I actually wanted to give you a warning. He’s a good cop, but he’s got no patience for snoops of any sort, especially PI’s. If you go poking into anything in Sleepy Hollow, you need to stay under the radar.”

“Oh, shoot!” Trixie exclaimed. “I thought you were going to tell me he’s a good friend who would give us the straight dope on what’s been happening.”

“To the contrary. After realizing he’s in charge, I’m not surprised that ‘the straight dope,’ as you called it, hasn’t been released to the public. He’s a good cop, but he’s a control freak who wants all the facts, and he wouldn’t want to panic the public by saying something crazy, like there’s a serial killer lopping off people’s heads.”

“Isn’t there any way to get more information?” Trixie pressed.

“Well, I thought I might stop by Sleepy Hollow PD Friday after work to say hello to Captain Irving and casually mention that I’ve heard some rumors. We’ll see how he reacts. I’m a fellow cop, and I think he trusts me, so he probably won’t classify me as a snoop,” said Dan.

“OK. Do you think he’ll still be there late on Friday?” Trixie asked.

Dan laughed. “If I know Frank, he’ll be working all weekend.”

Honey spoke up. “Thank you Dan, for anything you can find out. You know that Trixie won’t be satisfied until we get to the bottom of the strange happenings.”

Trixie made a face at Honey. “Yeah, Babe, you know I appreciate it. Talk to you later?”

“You bet, Freckles. Have a good day, and I’ll talk to you tonight,” responded Dan before ending the call.

The girls stayed busy the next few days with a large number of background checks that Wheeler International had sent to them. The weekend arrived cool and with the promise of rain in the air. Dan had phoned Frank Irving and arranged to stop by Sleepy Hollow’s police department, ostensibly for a tour and a cup of coffee, although Dan had hinted how much he’d like to be working in the area again when they spoke.

Late Friday afternoon Dan walked into the station and let the officer at the front desk know he was expected. As he waited in the lobby, he saw an attractive young black woman wearing both badge and a gun walking in the front entrance with a tall, pony-tailed man wearing what appeared to be some sort of 18th century costume. The two were engaged in an intense conversation that, though whispered, he couldn’t help but overhear as they passed by.

“I’m telling you, he’s going to be back soon, and the killing will begin again,” said the tall man.

“Crane, we’re doing all we can. We just have to hope we find a way to stop Moloch before all four Horseman arrive.”

As they moved out of earshot, Dan sat in stunned silence. Moloch! That was the name that Brom mentioned to Trixie and Honey. And the four horsemen - Dan remembered the story of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but that wasn’t real – or was it?

At that moment Captain Frank Irving approached Dan. “Good to see you, Mangan. Still loving the city life?”

Dan smiled. “As a matter of fact, I’m pretty much over it. I’m hoping to find a job closer to Sleepyside.”

“Is that so?” asked Frank as he led Dan back towards his office. “You wouldn’t mind working for a small town department?”

“Not at all,” replied Dan. “My friends and family are in Sleepyside, and it would be nice to know everyone I’m working with. Besides, let’s face it, small town crime is more palatable than the big city sort.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” replied Frank as he sat behind his desk and gestured to a chair opposite him. “But, I do happen to have an opening for a detective, and we’re short a deputy too. I think you’re ready to move up to detective. You’ve got the skills.”

Dan sat in silence for a moment. He had simply come to try to get information, and Frank was offering him a job?

“Are you serious? What about your deputies? Wouldn’t they have first crack at the detective opening?”

“None of them have enough time in, and I expect a couple of them to be leaving the department within a short time. What do you say? The pay is decent, more than you make now, but not as much as a big city detective.”

“Isn’t there a formal hiring process?” Dan inquired.

“This is a small town, and I’m the boss here. We don’t have a sheriff at the moment, and the town council isn’t going to complain if I hire a qualified candidate and save them a bunch of money that would have been spent advertising the position, interviewing – anyway, you get the idea. You don’t have any disciplinary action in your folder, do you?”

Dan shook his head, a bit dazed. “No, nothing. In fact, I have a couple of commendations. Can I have a few days to think about it? This is pretty sudden.”

Frank smiled. “Sure. How soon would you be able to start? You’d really be helping me out of a jam. We’re short-handed, and being able to skip the red tape would be a happy bonus. You’d really be helping me out.”

“Um, I would need to move back here, so I need to get out of my lease in the city. I’d need to give notice to my Captain too.”

Frank seemed to realize he had overwhelmed Dan. “I’ll go get us some coffee. Still drink it black?”

Dan nodded as Frank left the office. Dan shifted his chair so he could see through the glass wall into the bullpen where several officers sat working at the scattered desks. He saw the lady cop again, sitting at a corner desk. Pony tail guy was sitting near her and they were both looking at something on the computer screen. They appeared to be arguing.

Frank returned with the coffee and resumed his seat behind his desk.

“Frank, who are those two in the corner? Are they detectives?”

Frank followed Dan’s eyes and frowned. “No. That’s Lieutenant Abbie Mills and Ichabod Crane, a…consultant for the department.”

“What’s up with the period costume?” Dan asked, referring to Crane’s old-fashioned coat and breeches. “He looks like he stepped out of one of those murals of the Revolutionary War.”

“He’s rather…eccentric. He’s a professor at Oxford,” Frank explained.

Dan, realizing he had gotten side-tracked from his original objective, changed the subject. “So, what types of cases do you get here in Sleepy Hollow? I know when I lived in Sleepyside the biggest crimes were the occasional diamond thief or con artist.”

Frank smiled, saying, “Let me put it this way - I don’t think you’d be bored. You might say we have our own special type of crime here.”

Dan looked at Frank closely. He was obviously being evasive, but why? He decided to try another tack. “I was sorry to hear about Sheriff Corbin. To be honest, I’m surprised that he wasn’t able to at least disable his attacker.”

“Sheriff Corbin was an excellent police officer. There were extenuating circumstances surrounding his death,” Frank bristled.

Gotcha, thought Dan. “Really? I’d like to hear more about what happened. To be honest, I’ve heard some odd rumors about Sleepy Hollow lately, and I want to know what I’d be walking into if I take the job.”

Frank stared at Dan for a ten count, then stood up and paced. Dan just watched and waited, calmly drinking his coffee. Frank seemed to make a decision and stepped out of the office into the bullpen. “Mills, Crane! Come in here, would you?”

Abbie and Crane quickly stepped into Frank’s office. “What’s up, Captain?” asked Abbie, eyeing Dan curiously.

“Sit down, both of you. This is Dan Mangan, one of the best officers in the NYPD. I’m trying to convince him to take the open detective position. He seems to think something odd has been happening in Sleepy Hollow lately, and he’d like to know more before he makes a decision.”

Abbie looked at Frank like he had lost his mind. Did he really want her to tell this stranger about the Horseman?

Frank returned her look, nodding.

“What I’m about to tell you doesn’t leave this room.”

Two hours later, Dan parked in front of Belden-Wheeler Investigations. He felt like he had been transported to an alternate universe where everything seemed normal on the surface. Normal, that is, until the police calmly explained that there was demon attempting to bring about the end of humanity by summoning the four horsemen of the apocalypse, and that the first of the Horseman had arrived and was lopping people’s heads off.

Honey looked up as Dan entered, immediately realizing that something was wrong. “Hi, Dan! You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Before Dan could answer Trixie chimed in, “Were you able to get any information from the captain?”

Dan walked over to the Keurig sitting on a small table in the corner to make himself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I got some information,” he answered as he chose a strong brew from the selection of K-Cups in the drawer. “I also got a job offer.”

The girls both squealed, jumping up to congratulate him. Trixie hugged him and planted a kiss on his lips.

“That’s awesome, Dan!” she exclaimed. “You’ve wanted to move back here for a while, and I hate not seeing you every day. What rank did they offer you?”

“Detective,” he responded, which resulted in more squeals and hugs.

Dan retrieved his mug from the brewer and took a seat in a guest chair, the girls grabbing other chairs to sit on either side of him.

“So, I assume you’re taking the job. What did you find out about the mysterious

deaths?” Trixie asked, her blue eyes sparkling.

Dan took a sip of coffee and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’m not quite sure why, but Frank was really anxious to hire me. I mean, I just went in to see if I could find out anything useful, and he offered me a job within the first five minutes. When I balked at taking the job before knowing more about rumors I told him I’d heard about, he spilled the beans; or, I should say, he introduced me to the people who did.”

“People? You mean other detectives?” asked Honey.

“One of them is Lt. Abbie Mills. She was Sheriff Corbin’s partner and was riding with him the night he was killed. The other person is named Ichabod Crane. He’s….well, it’s kind of hard to explain without sounding like the world has gone crazy.”

“Tell us, Dan. Nothing can be that crazy,” laughed Trixie.

“OK, here goes. Ichabod Crane was a soldier in General Washington’s army. He was mortally wounded in a battle with a Hessian soldier. The Hessian stabbed him, but he managed to decapitate the Hessian before falling. His last memory was being in a field hospital with his wife, Katrina tending him, until he woke up in a cave in the woods the same night that the sheriff was killed by a headless Horseman.”

The silence in the room was deafening as Honey and Trixie attempted to process what Dan had just said. Finally, Trixie spoke up. “You’re serious? You’re not playing some elaborate joke, are you?”

Dan shook his head. “I’m dead serious. I just spent two hours listening to what Mills and Crane have been up to for the past two months. That demon Brom mentioned, Moloch? He’s not only real, he’s evidently building some sort of army and is trying to bring the four horsemen of the apocalypse to earth. Crane said he’s in the woods outside of Sleepy Hollow, although he can travel when he wants to.”

“How do they know what this Moloch is up to?” asked Honey, a frown on her face.

“It’s complicated and I’m not sure I know all of the pieces yet, but Crane was buried with Washington’s bible and the passage about the horsemen was marked. When Crane was working with Washington, he was told that the war was more than just for freedom for the colonies; it was a fight to save humanity.”

Trixie jumped up and started pacing. “This is just too fantastic to believe! No wonder Sleepy Hollow PD has been keeping everything hush-hush! Do they know where this headless Horseman is?”

“No, he seems to have dropped out of sight recently, but Crane is convinced he’ll return. It is fantastic, but I believe them. Frank Irving seems to be on the fence about a lot of it, but he’s giving Mills and Crane the lead for now. I’d never have believed in a million years that Frank Irving would even consider stuff like this to be true. He told me Crane passed a polygraph when they first brought him in. I guess he literally stumbled in front of a squad car the night the sheriff was killed, and he was briefly suspected of killing him. Mills had seen the Horseman and found the sheriff’s body, though, and she stuck to her story. A few other cops saw him later on, but they refuse to acknowledge what they saw for the official report because they don’t want to be labeled as crazy.”

“What about that dead guy that disappeared out of the morgue?” asked Honey. “Was that connected to the Horseman?”

“Yeah, it was,” replied Dan. “According to Mills, the deputy was killed in his cell after he was arrested for assaulting her near the graveyard at the Dutch Church. She said he told her he was trying to protect her. Mills and Crane saw something in the cell just before they found his body. He’s lurking around out there somewhere like a zombie, and they think he’s working for this Moloch character.”

“Wow – zombies too. So what do we do with all of this information? And how does Brom know about Moloch?” Trixie puzzled.

“He has lived in those woods his whole life, and his family settled in this valley before the Revolutionary War, so maybe stories have been passed down to him,” speculated Honey.

“I think we need to go visit him right now,” Trixie said, forgetting the Bob-Whites’ agreement to just subtly check in on the old man every few days.

“No, it’s almost dark,” replied Dan. Regan won’t let you take the horses out at night unless there’s a full moon to provide light. Besides, I think you need to stay away from the preserve at night. Crane thinks the Horseman is hiding in the woods somewhere, and he only comes out at night. He could be in the preserve.”

Trixie sighed. “OK, you’re right. But tomorrow is Saturday, and we need to exercise the horses anyway, so we can go see Brom then.”

“We should update the others, too,” added Honey.

Dan grimaced. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, much less six other people.”

“But we can’t keep this from them,” Honey argued.

“I can tell you right now that Mart and Brian won’t believe any of it,” sniffed Trixie, “and Jim probably won’t either.”

“We can’t control whether they believe or not, but we still need to tell them,” insisted Honey. “They need to be careful in those woods too.”

Dan threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, but I’ll probably end up fired before I’m even hired.”

“Captain Irving doesn’t need to know we know,” Honey pointed out. “We were interested because we were worried about Brom. It’s not like we’re working on a case that involves any of this.”

“Well, once I start with Sleepy Hollow PD, I will be working on this case,” Dan replied. “Irving wants me to collaborate with Mills and Crane.”

Trixie clapped. “I’d love to meet Mills and Crane. Maybe once you start your new job you can introduce them to all of the Bob-Whites.”

“I’ll arrange an emergency Bob-Whites meeting for some time this weekend, but I know Brian’s working, and I’m sure Mart is as well. We’ll have to catch them up later,” Honey said.

As the girls discussed their plans for the next day, Dan reflected on the afternoon’s events. He’d been offered a great job close to his everyone important to him, but with a department that had some seriously spooky stuff going on. While he’d been thrown totally off-kilter initially, Trixie and Honey’s almost matter-of-fact acceptance of what he’d told them helped him regain his mental balance. There were a lot of unexplained things in the world, after all. Yet he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he’d spent two hours talking with a man who was over 200 years old, yet didn’t look a day over 35. And Abbie Mills…she was something else. She had the intelligence and spark that he so much admired in Trixie, but there was something else driving her; perhaps it was because the sheriff had been her mentor. While Mills was an excellent cop, Crane was an academic who didn’t know how to utilize modern technology. Irving hoped that, with Dan’s help, they could track down the Horseman and find a way to stop the coming apocalypse.

Chapter 3

Early the next afternoon, Trixie and Honey met at the stables after a busy morning running errands. As they prepared their horses in the Wheeler stables, Dan came strolling in. “Good afternoon, ladies. I thought I’d join you for your ride since it’s such a beautiful day.”

Trixie eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not coming along to keep an eye on us?” There had been no discussion during their previous evening together of him coming along, though admittedly their focus had been on each other, not mysterious goings-on. Trixie had actually thought about asking Dan to accompany them, but she knew he was going to see Regan and give him the good news about his new job and the fact he’d be moving back to Sleepyside soon.

Dan staggered back a bit, his hand on his heart. “Freckles, are you questioning my motives? I just thought I’d spend the afternoon with my lovely girlfriend and the equally lovely Miss Wheeler since I’m here for the whole weekend for a change.”

“She’s doing no such thing, Dan,” said Honey. “You know we’d never question your motives, even if you do show up to accompany us on our ride wearing a sidearm,” she finished with a grin.

Dan had the grace to blush. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Trixie grinned as she climbed into the saddle. “I agree, which is why you’re not the only one packing heat. Besides, I’m not going to complain about a chance to spend time with you, regardless of the circumstances. Sometimes it feels like the city is a thousand miles away; we don’t get to see other nearly often enough. I can’t wait until you move back to Sleepyside.”

Dan nodded as he led his horse out of the stable. He should have known the girls would be prepared. They weren’t thirteen anymore, thank goodness, he thought as he eyed Trixie’s curves.

Although the sun was out and the temperature around 60 at the stables, it was noticeably cooler in the woods where the sun couldn’t break through the mantle of trees. After chatting for a bit, they rode in silence, enjoying the quiet of the autumn woods.

As they approached Brom’s cottage, the horses started acting strange, as if they didn’t want to move forward. “What is wrong with you, Lady?” asked Honey as she attempted to get the mare moving forward. Dan and Trixie were having the same problem with their mounts.

They decided to leave the horses tied to a nearby tree and walked the rest of the way along the path, making the final turn to Brom’s.

Honey gasped. The front door was open, hacked into pieces. All three Bob-Whites drew their weapons and carefully approached.

“Brom!” yelled Dan. “It’s Dan! Can you hear me?” Only silence answered him. “Check the windows!” Dan whispered. “I’m going around back.”

“Be careful!” Trixie whispered back.

The curtains were all closed, preventing anyone from seeing inside. The girls returned to the front of the cottage, where Dan was coming out the front door.

“Brom’s not here,” he said, “but something bad has happened. The place is trashed. The back door was standing open.”

“Maybe he left that way when the burglar was breaking in the front door,” Honey theorized.

“Why wouldn’t he just shoot a burglar?” asked Trixie.

“Maybe he didn’t have time to get his shotgun,” answered Honey.

“Or maybe he knew a shotgun wouldn’t work,” observed Dan with a frown.

“Well, let’s go find him! He’s probably hurt somewhere nearby!” exclaimed Trixie.

“I should call this in,” said Dan hesitantly.

“We need to find Brom first,” argued Trixie. “So far this is just a burglary, right? If he’s hurt, that’s our priority.”

Dan acquiesced, and the three went to the back of the cottage to see if they could figure out in which direction Brom might have fled.

“You don’t think maybe he wasn’t home at all, do you? Maybe the thief just left the back door open and Brom is sitting at Mrs. V’s eating windmill cookies,” said Trixie.

Just then, Dan noticed a dark spot on the ground.

“I don’t think so, Trix. I just found a blood trail, but it’s dry.”

Honey paled as Trixie ran over to see the evidence. “It goes this way!” she yelled as she started to follow it through the woods.

“Wait up, Trix!” Dan yelled. “We need to stay together.”

Within a few minutes they had reached the edge of the preserve, following occasional blood drops and evidence that someone had passed through the dead leaves on the small path recently, at the same time ensuring they didn’t disturb possible evidence of a crime. They reluctantly continued into the Sleepy Hollow woods, now convinced that someone, likely their friend Brom, was injured.

Dan, in the lead, suddenly stopped. A smell of decay filled the air. “Hold up a minute. Why don’t you two wait here? I want to check up ahead before we go farther.”

“What is that smell?” asked Honey, wrinkling her nose. “It smells like-like something died.” She paled suddenly. “Oh no!”

“Maybe it’s just a dead animal,” replied Trixie, sounding calmer than she felt. She turned to Dan. “We’ll wait for you here, but don’t go far. We need to be extra careful since we left the preserve.”

Dan slowly moved up the path, weapon at the ready. He heard a rustling in the distance and again smelled a whiff of decay. Trying to put the thought of demons out of his mind, he focused on his search. He soon found the source of the smell. Brom, at least Dan was pretty sure it was Brom, lay to the side of the path, but his head was nowhere to be seen. Dan stopped and took a deep breath, then immediately regretted doing so. The body looked like it had been there for almost a day, but there was no sign that any animals had been near it. He turned and ran back to the girls.

“Back to the horses – now!” he ordered.

“What? Wait! Did you find Brom? Is he hurt? Is he…dead?” asked Trixie, tears in her eyes.

“He’s more than dead, and we need to get the hell out of these woods right now.”

They returned to the horses, who were still skittish, and Dan called Frank Irving to report what he’d found. He contemplated calling Chief Molinson at the Sleepyside PD, but thought better of it. Besides, the body had been found in Sleepy Hollow’s jurisdiction.

The girls listened as Dan spoke tersely to Frank, explaining what they had found. “Oh my God,” Trixie exclaimed ask she and Honey clung together, tears running down their faces. “Someone cut off Brom’s head? It had to be the Horseman, but whatever in the world would the he want with Brom?”

Honey, too upset to speak, just shook her head.

Dan finished his call and turned to the girls. “I’m going to wait at the cottage for Mills and Crane. They’re going to walk in from the main road. Evidently Crane is familiar with the area. Why don’t you head back to the stables?”

“No way!” exclaimed Trixie. “If this Horseman killed Brom, we need to find out why. Maybe this Crane person will know something.”

Honey nodded. “As scared as I am, we owe it to Brom to find out why this happened.”

Dan signed in resignation. “You know that Irving’s going to find out I told you what’s been happening.”

“He doesn’t have to know that you told us earlier,” insisted Trixie. We were with you when we found Brom, so you can just tell him you had to explain the situation.”

“Besides, it sounds like Sleepy Hollow PD needs all the help it can get,” added Honey.

About thirty minutes later, Lt. Abbie Mills and Ichabod Crane made their way through the woods, closely followed by the coroner, his assistant, who was carrying a stokes, and a nervous-looking CSI. They entered the clearing in front of Brom’s cottage and greeted Dan.

“Who are these people?” asked Abbie. “You brought civilians into this?”

“Calm down, Lieutenant. This is Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler of Belden-Wheeler Investigations. They also happen to be two of my closest friends. They also happen to be excellent investigators. We were going to visit our friend and discovered his cottage broken up. We followed a trail of blood to his body. ”

Abbie smiled. “My apologies. I’m Lt. Mills, and this is Ichabod Crane. You can call me Abbie. I’m sorry for the loss of your friend.”

The girls shook hands with Abbie, while Crane bowed before each of them. “A pleasure, ladies. I’ve always believed women make the best detectives. I find them to be so much more observant than men.”

Oh, my! Honey thought. He is very good looking. He certainly doesn’t look two hundred years old!

Abbie turned to Dan. “How much do they know?”

Dan looked sheepish. “Pretty much everything.”

“Mangan, what did I tell you yesterday? We don’t want the public to panic!”

“They needed to know,” Dan explained. “Brom had already told them that a demon named Moloch was in the woods and that strange things were happening in Sleepy Hollow, and when I found out it was true I had to warn them to stay away from the woods.”

“You said you were coming to visit the man who lives in this cottage, and that he had warned you about Moloch? What was this man’s name?”

“Brom Vanderheidenbeckbeck,”Dan replied.

Crane, who had been looking around the clearing as if trying to remember something, spun around at the mention of Brom’s name. “Vanderheidenbeckbeck? I knew a man by that name. In fact, this looks very like where he lived. Where is the body?”

“It’s this way,” said Dan, leading the group to where Brom lay. Trixie and Honey trailed behind, torn between surveying the crime scene and having to see the gory sight they knew lay ahead.

Crane quickly approached the body and knelt, then stood up, looking around the immediate area. “Did you find his head?”

Dan shook his head. “I didn’t hang around long enough to search for it. I wouldn’t think it could be too far away.”

Mills, Crane, Dan and the coroner began to search in the surrounding brush while Trixie tried to comfort Honey, who was fighting tears once again.

“Here it is!” called out the coroner, about 20 yards from the body. Crane bent to look closely at Brom’s face, and stood abruptly.

“He bears a resemblance to the man I knew,” said Crane slowly. “He must be a descendant. Turning to the Bob-Whites, he asked, “What can you tell me about your friend?”

“He was a sweet old man,” Trixie began. “He lived like a hermit, and he was very shy, but he loved to tell stories about witches and fairies to my little brother and his friends when they were young. I didn’t even know he existed until I was thirteen, even though I grew up near here. We met him through a friend, who knew him for many years.” She stopped suddenly. “Oh, poor Mrs. V! She’ll be so upset!”

They made their way back to the cottage and surveyed the damage. The CSI had finished processing the area where Brom was found, as there was not much to see, and the coroner had bagged the body in preparation to haul it out to the waiting van. By now it was almost dark.

“Let’s continue our conversation at the office,” said Abbie. She turned to the CSI. “Seal the cottage and process it as soon as it’s light tomorrow. It’s too dark to see anything now. We’ll come back after you’re done with it.”

“We need to take our horses back to the stable, so we’ll meet you there,” said Dan.

The Bob-Whites rode back to the stable as quickly as possible and managed to get to Sleepy Hollow station within an hour. Trixie, Honey, and Dan were shown to a conference room where they were soon joined by Abbie and Crane.

Abbie got straight to business. “Tell me exactly what you found when you arrived at the victim’s home.”

The Bob-Whites recounted their findings, beginning with splintered front door and ending with the discovery of Brom’s body.

“The victim had a large cut on his arm; that was probably the source of the blood trail,” Abbie stated.

“Why wasn’t there hardly any blood where Brom was killed?” Trixie asked. “There should have been a lot of blood from a wound like that.”

“The wounds appeared to be cauterized, just like the previous victims,” answered Crane. The Horseman’s broad axe seems to have a sort of energy to it that makes it hot.”

“Just how many people has the Horseman killed so far?” Honey asked quietly.

“Three that we know of, including your friend,” answered Abbie. “He seemed to be lying low for a few weeks after killing Reverend Knapp, but he evidently thought the old man had something he wanted.”

“But what could Brom have had that the Horseman would want?” asked Honey. “And did he get it and then kill him, or did he kill him because he wouldn’t give him whatever it is he wanted?”

Abbie and Crane both looked confused, obviously not used to Honey-speak.

Dan suddenly remembered Crane’s remark when he had seen Brom’s face. “Crane, you said you knew the name Vanderheidenbeckbeck. Did you work with someone with that name during the war?

Crane nodded. “Indeed. Anki Vanderheidenbeckbeck was an ally to the Colonists’ cause even though he came from Holland. He knew the area well since his family was among the first settlers of the valley and because he was a map maker by trade. He helped General Washington draw up maps to be used by the army. When you said the name, I thought perhaps he might have been alive, as I am, through the machinations of my wife’s coven, but I suppose that was too much to hope for.”

“A coven - your wife was a witch?” Trixie interjected. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any stranger, a witch gets tossed into the mix! “Do you know what happened to her?”

A shadow crossed Crane’s face. “She neither alive nore dead, held in a purgatory of sorts by Moloch. I have only been able to communicate with her when asleep or drugged into a state of unconsciousness.”

“I’m so sorry,” mumbled Trixie. “Please forgive me; sometimes I open my mouth before I think.”

“It’s quite alright,” said Crane. “After all, you had no way of knowing, and I’m sure all of these happenings are very discomfiting. I’m quite surprised you and your friends have accepted all of this information as fact so quickly. It took some doing to convince the Lieutenant, and as for the captain….” He shook his head. “As for your friend Brom, it’s possible he was a target of the Horseman because he had information that could have helped stop Moloch.”

“Yes, let’s get back to Brom,” said Abbie. “Tell me more about him.”

Dan managed a smile. “Brom lived a simple life and grew up in that cottage. He didn’t have much. His cottage sits on land now owned by Honey’s father, Matthew Wheeler; it’s part of a nature preserve. He hunted and trapped, and Mr. Maypenny, who lived nearby his whole life, gave him stuff from his vegetable garden until he passed away last year. Brom liked to carve small figures out of wood, and he was quite the storyteller. He spent most of his time in his cottage or at Mrs. Vanderpoel’s. Her house isn’t far from the preserve. She fed him regularly and they were good friends.”

“You said he told you about Moloch?”

“He told Honey and me not to go past the end of the preserve,” Trixie said. “He said that Moloch was a demon who lived in the woods and that he was making plans and assembling soldiers. He also told us that there were odd things happening in Sleepy Hollow, including the sheriff’s murder.”

“How did this happen to come up in conversation?” Abbie inquired.

“We mentioned that we had ridden to the edge of the preserve before stopping to see him, and that seemed to set him off,” Trixie answered.

“Did he seem different than usual?” probed Abbie.

Honey spoke up. “He did look tired. He told us he hadn’t been sleeping well, but that he was just fine.”

Abbie sighed. “Well, we’re no farther along than we were an hour ago. It’s too bad we didn’t know he might have some information before the Horseman got to him. I’d like to know how he knew about Moloch.”

“Yes, it is unfortunate,” replied Crane. “I’d like to know how he was aware of Morloch as well, not to mention the other things that have been happening, considering how well the local police have hidden the truth.”

Honey had a sudden thought. “Is Mrs. Vanderpoel safe? Brom spend a lot of time with her. Do you think the Horseman would go after her?”

Crane mulled over her question. “It’s unlikely unless he thinks she has something he wants. Perhaps we should speak with her and attempt to determine whether she has any information which Moloch might consider damaging to his cause. Your friend may have shared information with her that would be helpful.”

“We should go check on her right away!” exclaimed Trixie. “She lives alone. Maybe it already got her!”

As Abbie determined there was no further information to be gained about Brom at that time, she agreed that they all should pay a visit to Mrs. Vanderpoel. Dan, who had driven himself and the girls to the station, led the way, with Abbie and Crane following in a police sedan.

When they pulled into Mrs. Vanderpoel’s driveway, everything looked normal. As Abbie started up the walk, Dan stopped her. “Let us talk to her first. We need to tell her about Brom before you start asking questions. He was a close friend of hers.”

Abbie nodded in understanding. Damn, Mangan had some seriously beautiful eyes! Geez, Abbie, how can you be noticing a hot guy when the future of humanity is at stake? She and Crane waited by the car as the Bob-Whites knocked on the front door.

Mrs. Vanderpoel answered the door after a moment and greeted them enthusiastically.

“My, it’s good to see you three! Come in! Are those friends of yours out by the car? Please, invite them in. I’ve just finished a batch of windmill cookies, and I can put on a pot of coffee.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Mrs. Vanderpoel,” Trixie began. “Actually, we came to give you some news before our friends join us. Can we sit down?”

“Of course! Here, everyone have a seat at the kitchen table.” She took a seat herself and looked around at them expectantly. “What type of news?”

Trixie tried to speak, but found herself unable to do so. Honey looked like she was about to burst into tears. Dan finally cleared his throat and began, “Mrs. Vanderpoel, we’re so sorry to tell you that Brom has passed away.”

Mrs. Vanderpoel’s smile disappeared as tears filled her eyes. “Oh, dear, that’s too bad. I’ll miss him so. He did live a good long life, though, and I’ve no doubt he’s up in heaven. Did he pass in his sleep?”

Dan, unsure of how much to tell her, shook his head. “No, Ma’am. I’m afraid someone attacked him in the woods.”

Mrs. Vanderpoel grew pale, looking intently at Dan. “Please tell me it was quick,” she almost whispered.

Dan nodded. “Yes, it was. We found him this afternoon when we went to visit him.”

“I suppose he ran afoul of some transient looking for money?” she asked, almost hopefully it seemed.

“It appears he was targeted, Mrs. V,” said Dan. “His cottage was ransacked and someone chased him down in the woods before –” he stopped.

A steely look came over the old lady’s face. Trixie had seen that look once before, the night that Mrs. Vanderpoel had stood in her kitchen with her shotgun and threatened to shoot the man breaking into her house. “Tell me how he was killed,” she said. “I need to know.”

“Mrs. V, it’s not important – ” Dan began.

“Tell me, Dan!” she almost shouted. The Bob-Whites had never seen her so upset, and Mrs. V never shouted.

“He – he was beheaded,” Dan choked out the words. To his surprise, she didn’t seem shocked. She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

The room was silent for a long minute before Mrs. Vanderpoel spoke.

“And your friends outside – are they police? That young woman has the look of a police officer.”

“Yes,” answered Trixie, finally able to speak. “They’d like to talk to you to see if you might be able to help figure out why Brom was killed.”

“Then you’d better go get them.” With that, she got up from her seat and started bustling around the kitchen. The Bob-Whites looked at each other in surprise. Dan rose and went to the front door, gesturing to Abbie and Crane to come in.

As they walked into the kitchen, Mrs. Vanderpoel turned to greet them, a plate of cookies in her hands. “You all come into my kitchen and –” she stopped in mid-sentence, the plate dropping from her hands and smashing. “Ichabod? Oh my!”

Ichabod laughed with joy as he enveloped the old lady in a bear hug as everyone else looked on in confusion. Crane shouted a name that sounded like “YEL-tyu” as he hugged her.

“Mrs. V, how could you possibly know Mr. Crane?” queried Trixie, her eyes wide.

Ichabod grinned as he looked fondly at Mrs. Vanderpoel. “Jeltje ran a local inn where General Washington’s staff met regularly to plan its strategy,” Crane explained. “I didn’t expect to see her in the 21st century.”

“But that means you’re over 200 hundred years old, too!” exclaimed Honey.

Mrs. Vanderpoel stepped away from Crane, saying, “How are you here? You were dead, killed by the Hessian. Katrina placed a spell on you to protect you until…” Her eyes widened and she whispered, “Oh, no!” as if realizing something.

Crane nodded. “I’m afraid that the threat General Washington was fighting against is imminent. The Hessian has returned, and so have I. The four Horsemen are coming; he is but the first.”

Mrs. Vanderpoel looked up at him. “Is that how Brom died? The Horseman?”

“Yes, Jeltje. I’m sorry.”

She sighed and looked at the broken china and cookies on the floor. “Poor Brom.”

“I think we need to sit down and talk,” said Abbie. “I’m Lieutenant Abbie Mills, Sleepy Hollow PD, by the way.”

“I’ll sweep this up,” said Honey, indicating the debris on the kitchen floor.

“I’ll get some more cookies and some coffee for everyone,” added Trixie. Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. V?”

Once everyone was seated with a cup of coffee and a cookie, Abbie spoke. “Ma’am, am I to understand that you are familiar with what’s been happening in Sleepy Hollow lately?”

Mrs. Vanderpoel nodded. “Yes, Lieutenant. I’m afraid I don’t keep up on the local happenings as much as I used to, as Katrina’s coven moved away long ago and I don’t get to town very often to hear the current gossip. Brom had been rambling lately about a demon in the woods and people dying mysteriously, but to be honest I thought he might be getting a bit senile. He is--was-- very old, after all.”

“Are you a witch, Mrs. V?” Trixie asked.

“No dear, I’m not, although I was friends with Ichabod’s wife, Katrina.”

“I don’t understand how you’ve lived so long,” said Honey. “Did Katrina put a spell on you too?”

“Yes, Honey,” Mrs. Vanderpoel responded. “During the Revolutionary War, when it became apparent there was great evial at work, spells were cast on some of us who were charged with keeping watch over certain things.”

“What did he call you – Jelt-yu?” Trixie struggled with the pronunciation. “I thought your name was Julia, like Jim’s cousin.”

“Julia is the anglicized version of my name, Jeltje,” the old lady responded.

“It’s such an interesting name; does it have a special meaning?” asked Honey.

“Yes, dear. It means “determined protector”, which is exactly what I am,” Mrs. Vanderpoel smiled.

Abbie, realizing the conversation was getting side-tracked, interjected, “Ma’am, your friends were concerned for your safety after Brom was killed. Do you know of any reason that the Horseman would want to harm yourself or Brom?”

Mrs. Vanderpoel considered the question. “Not that I know of. Each of us who lived on was given a task, but we didn’t share what those were with each other, or anyone else for that matter. Brom knew I was a protector, but not all of the details. His ancestors were here before I was, and of course I knew Anki Vanderheidenbeck since we both worked with General Washington. We didn’t talk of it much.”

“We believe that Reverend Knapp from the old Dutch Church was killed when he wouldn’t tell the Horseman where his skull was,” mentioned Abbie, hoping that this might spur the old woman to remember something.

Mrs. Vanderpoel looked at Abbie sharply. “Reverend Knapp was killed by the Horseman? The newspaper said it was a mugging. He didn’t get the skull, did he?”

“No Ma’am, he didn’t, and my captain didn’t think the public was quite ready to hear about the Horseman,” Abbie explained.

“I don’t know what good it will do to hide the truth,” Crane muttered.

“Save it, Crane. We’ve talked about this,” Abbie growled.

“Mrs. V, can you tell us what it is that you’re protecting?” Dan asked. “We need to know whether it’s safe for you to stay here.”

Mrs. Vanderpoel smiled at Dan. “I’m perfectly safe. My purpose was to remain here at this house as its caretaker. It was to serve as a sanctuary for those who might be called upon to fight the evil if and when it returned. It has a protection spell around it. I was beginning to think nothing would happen in my very long lifetime, but sadly, I was wrong.”

“So you knew Brom’s ancestor, Anki?” Honey prodded.

“Yes. But even though we were good friends, we didn’t talk about our missions because spies were everywhere.” She looked over at Crane, who was finishing off his third windmill cookie. “Ichabod, where are you staying?”

“I’m at a motel in Sleepy Hollow,” said Crane with a grimace.

“You must come to stay here!” Mrs. Vanderpoel was adamant. “The Horseman no doubt will be after you, and you will be safe here.” She looked at him closely. “You and the Lieutenant, you are the witnesses, aren’t you?”

Crane nodded. “But how do you know that? Are you sure you’re not a witch?” he smiled.

“I may not be a witch, but I am a sensitive. I know the prophecy, and that you likely have the General’s bible. You did find it, didn’t you? We were careful to place it close to you in the cave.”

“Yes, we have the bible, as well as the Horseman’s skull.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, too, Lieutenant,” Mrs. Vanderpoel turned to Abbie. “I can sense that he will be after you too.”

Abbie shook her head. “Thank you, Ma’am, but I have a perfectly good apartment. While the town would love to find other accommodations for Crane, it might put you in danger to have him here.”

“Not at all,” the old lady disagreed. “As I said, this house is a sanctuary. No evil can cross the property line. I just wish Brom had been able to make it here before that Horseman caught up to him.” She rose and took the now-empty cookie plate to the sink, surreptitiously wiping her eyes.

Crane rose and stood behind her, putting a hand on her plump arm. “I’d be most indebted to you, Jeltje. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in over 200 years!”

Mrs. Vanderpoel looked horrified. “What have you been eating? Not that fast food garbage!” She glared accusingly at Abbie.

“Hey, I made sure he had a place to stay and spending money for food. I don’t cook.” Abbie shrugged and smiled.

Trixie, who had been much more quiet than was normal for her, suddenly asked a question.

“Mrs. V, how much do you know about Moloch?”

“Not a lot. I believe that something has always been in the woods, but it has shown itself very infrequently. I never heard the name until Brom spoke it. Now, I’m almost sure he had something to do with Katrina’s death; at least, some demon did. Brom seemed to think the demon’s power was increasing.”

“What happens if someone sees it?” Trixie asked, looking at Crane and Abbie.

“I don’t think just seeing him will cause harm, but if he wants something from you, that would be a problem,” replied Crane. “Why do you ask?”

“I-I think I saw him the other day,” stuttered Trixie. “We were at the edge of the Wheeler’s preserve, and the air seemed kind of thick and hazy. We were starting to turn when I saw something darting through the trees. Later Brom described Moloch to us, and it sounded like what I saw.”

“Did the trees look normal, or were there some strange white ones?” interjected Abbie.

Trixie shrugged. “The trees looked like they always do, but the sky was gray and the woods were sort of foggy, even though it was clear elsewhere.”

Abbie sighed. She wouldn’t wish an encounter with Moloch on her worst enemy.

“I don’t think he wanted you to see him,” stated Crane, “or he would have made his presence known in no uncertain terms.”

“Good. I’m used to horror movies where seeing the bad guy means he comes back and gets you in your sleep or something. I don’t know what the rules are in real life,” grinned Trixie.

After arrangements were made for Crane to come back later that evening, the group said their goodbyes to Mrs. Vanderpoel before huddling outside in the driveway.

“So what’s next?” asked Dan.

“I think Crane and I need to do some research on Anki Vanderheidenbeck to see if we can discover what Brom could have had in his possession. From what Mrs. Vanderpoel said, it might have something to do with Washington, maybe handed down from one family member to another. We have archives full of information we can dig into.”

Trixie’s eyes lit up. “Really? Where? Can we help?”

Abbie shook her head. “Sorry. Authorized personnel only.”

“We need to tell the rest of the Bob-Whites what’s happened,” Honey reminded Trixie.

Trixie slapped her forehead. “Honey, like I’ve said before, you are definitely the brains of our outfit. The guys are going to pitch a fit as it is.”

“Wait a minute,” Abbie said. “Who or what are the ‘Bob-Whites’? You can’t tell anyone else about any of this!”

Dan looked at Abbie sheepishly. “We three are Bob-Whites, along with Trixie’s and Honey’s brothers and another friend. I shared some of what you both told me yesterday with them at the same time I told Trixie and Honey. The Bob-Whites are a club formed when we were teenagers. Trixie and Honey dragged us along while they solved mysteries. They’ve got an impressive record.”

“Geez, Mangan, why don’t you just announce it to the world?” Abbie shouted in exasperation. “I don’t believe this. I’m starting to feel like I’m in an episode of Scooby Doo. All we’re missing is a talking dog.”

Crane’s eyebrows rose. “A talking dog? And what in the world is a ‘Scooby Doo’?

“Never mind; I’ll explain later,” answered Abbie. “YOU,” she said, pointing to the Bob-Whites, “stay out of trouble. I’ll call you tomorrow before we head to the cottage. CSI should be finished in the morning.” With that, she got into her car and started the engine, waiting impatiently as Crane said a hurried goodbye before taking his position in the passenger seat.

Dan smiled at her and waved as she pulled out of the driveway. Abbie rolled her eyes. She should be furious with Mangan, but for some reason she trusted his judgment. What was it he’d said about their club solving crimes? She’d have to do a bit of checking on Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler, not to mention Mr. Dan Mangan himself.

Abbie and Crane spent several hours digging through the archives before she drove him back to Mrs. Vanderpoel’s. The old lady insisted that Abbie stay for dinner. After a meal of the best chicken and dumplings she’d ever tasted, Abbie headed home to her apartment, a container of leftovers in hand, to do some research on the Bob-Whites.

Two hours later she took a break, thoroughly impressed. Trixie and Honey, along with their friends, had solved a number of tough cases, and not just in little Sleepyside. She shook her head. Farm kids, rich girls, a runaway adopted by a rich girl’s family, and a former gang member had all not only managed to become close friends, but to remain so into adulthood. Equally impressive was how each of the club’s members was succeeding in their chosen careers; a doctor, two private investigators, an artist, a chef, a cop and a psychologist who was opening a school for troubled youth. Abbie had never had close friends growing up, and thus had never known the power of the support of friends.

I have to hand it to them, they handled all the freaky details pretty well today, Abbie admitted to herself. And we need as many people on our side as we can get if we’re going to defeat Moloch. Maybe I need to give these Bob-Whites a chance. I have to work with Mangan regardless, and I don’t think Trixie Belden is one to take “No” for an answer.

While Abbie was busy on her computer, the Bob-Whites, minus Mart and Brian, were gathered at the apartment above Belden-Wheeler Investigations. Di and Jim were brought up to speed on everything that had happened. After Di stopped crying about Brom, she promised to talk with Mart when he got home from the restaurant later that night. Honey was meeting Brian for breakfast the following morning during his break at the hospital, and she would get him caught up.

“What do we say to our parents? And Bobby and the twins?” asked Di. “We can’t tell them the truth; they’ll think we’re crazy.”

“I think we just need to tell them that Brom was killed by someone, possibly a transient, in the woods,” Dan said slowly.

“Brom warned us to keep the kids away from the woods because of Moloch,” Trixie added. “That shouldn’t be an issue now, because our parents won’t let them go near the woods when they think there’s a killer loose.”

“They don’t spend that much time in the woods these days anyway,” said Jim. They’re more interested in hanging out with their friends in town, especially since they got driver’s licenses. I hate to lie, but I agree that the truth is a bit too strange in this case. I’m finding it hard to believe myself. Both Mrs. Vanderpoel and this Crane guy are hundreds of years old? It seems too fantastic!”

Honey nodded. “I know, Jim, but we heard it from Mrs. V herself, and Mr. Crane looks like he stepped out of that painting of the signing of the Constitution. Just imagine – he knew Washington!”

“So did Mrs. V,” Trixie pointed out. “She and Crane both worked with Washington and his staff.”

“Do you think you’re going to be in trouble with the captain for telling all of us about the Horseman and everything, Dan?” asked Honey. “I’d hate it if you didn’t get the detective position.”

Dan shrugged. “I really don’t know. I have the feeling that Sleepy Hollow PD needs our help, and I think that Lieutenant Mills will be on our side once she checks us out.”

“What do you mean, ‘checks us out’?” queried Trixie.

Dan grinned. “She’s a good cop. I have no doubt that she spent part of the evening looking into the history of each of the Bob-Whites, as well as all of the cases you and Honey solved.”

“All of the Bob-Whites helped solve those mysteries,” Trixie said. “It would be great if she’d let us into those archives she was talking about. I wonder where they are? I’ve never heard of anything like it in the local libraries or museums.”

“Archives?” Diana spoke up. “What type of archives?”

“Historical, I presume,” answered Trixie. “Abbie said she and Crane had access to archives where they could research what Brom’s ancestor might have passed along to his descendants.”

“I don’t know of anything like that locally, but there could be something like it in the City,” Diana said. “Or perhaps it’s a private archive. Some collectors of historical documents create their own archives.”

“You’re right, Di,” exclaimed Honey. “Maybe it belongs to someone who lives in the area.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” yawned Dan. “Right now, I need to get some sleep. I’m going to crash here for a few days. For some reason, I don’t feel like sleeping in an isolated cabin in the woods, especially when there are things hiding in them that bullets can’t stop. Plus, I get bonus time with Trixie,” Dan said as he ruffled her curls.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Jim replied. “I’ll feel better if you’re here,” he said as he looked from Trixie to Honey.

Trixie rolled her eyes. “Jim, the Horseman’s not after us. We’ll be perfectly safe.” I guess he’s never going to lose that overprotective streak, thought Trixie. I don’t even want to think how much worse it would be if we were in a relationship.

Meanwhile, a mist swirled along the wooded section of the bank nearby Hudson River. The Horseman rose out of the water, walking toward the white horse that stood waiting for him with glowing red eyes. He mounted the horse and headed through the woods, making a beeline for Mrs. Vanderpoel’s house.

As the horse approached the yellow brick home, it suddenly stopped and reared, almost throwing its rider. The Horseman dismounted and attempted to enter the yard, but was stopped as if by a force field of some sort. He swung his broad axe in front of him, and it sparked as if it hit a wall. After several more attempts with the same result, the Horseman stood there for a few moments before mounting his horse and riding back into the night.

Ichabod Crane awoke suddenly. All he heard was the ticking of the small clock on the bedside table. He rose from the ridiculously comfortable feather bed and went to the window, looking out into the darkness. He could see nothing but the blink of an occasional firefly. He returned to his bed and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 4

The next morning, Abbie called Dan to inform him that she and Crane would be at Brom’s cottage by ten o’clock if he would like to join them. Once again, she and Crane had to hike the half-mile from the main road to the small yellow brick cottage. She saw not only Dan and Trixie, but three other people she presumed were Bob-Whites waiting for them.

Dan quickly introduced Mart, Jim, and Diana to Abbie and Crane. He explained that Honey was meeting Brian for breakfast, but that the rest of the Bob-Whites wanted to assist in any way they could.

“Why am I not surprised?” she smiled. “After reading about some of your exploits, I figured you were a package deal. Are you all familiar with protocol for preserving evidence at a scene?”

Everyone nodded simultaneously as Dan and Trixie exchanged knowing looks. “Didn’t the CSI already process the cottage?” asked Trixie.

“Yes, for the ordinary type of evidence. What we’re looking for goes beyond points of entry and finger prints,” Abbie responded.

“Do we need to wear gloves?” asked Trixie. “We brought our own.”

Abbie looked at her in amazement. “Um, sure, just to be safe. This cottage is pretty small for all of us to be inside at once. Why don’t a couple of you examine the exterior of the cottage for … well, anything that looks out of place? You know it better than we do.”

Jim and Diana elected to stay outside and check the yard and exterior of the cottage. The rest of the group entered the cottage through the back door. The skies were cloudy, making the interior of the cottage somewhat dark despite the open curtains.

“Is it OK if I light some lamps?” asked Trixie. “We brought flashlights, but it’s a bit dark in here when the sun isn’t shining.”

“Good idea, Trixie,” Abbie said. “Man, I could never live without electricity,” she added as Trixie and Mart lit several kerosene lamps that sat around the main room of the cottage.

“It’s not difficult at all when it’s all you know,” observed Crane with a smile.

Abbie looked around her. The cottage had a decent-sized main room with a fireplace and a small kitchen area in one corner with a wood-burning stove. A door off the main room led to a single bedroom. There was no evidence of a bathroom. She remembered seeing a small outhouse out back the day before.

“You three check the bedroom while Crane and I search this room,” instructed Abbie.

“Wait,” Dan protested. One of you should be with us, since you would have a better chance of recognizing something important. Why don’t I search this room with you and Mart, and Mr. Crane can search the bedroom with Trixie?”

Abbie nodded her agreement. It appeared the Horseman had indeed been looking for something. All of the cupboards were open, furniture was overturned, and the dresser was hacked open, the contents all over the bedroom floor. Even the pictures on the wall had been removed and tossed aside. Everyone carefully searched through all of the debris.

Dan picked up the remnants of what had been a map of the preserve and surrounding area. It was torn into pieces, the frame completely gone. “This was a great old map,” he said. “Brom loved to talk about this.”

“That map might be older than you think,” replied Abbie. “Crane mentioned something about Anki Vanderheidenbeck drawing maps for Washington.”

Dan looked closely at the bottom edge of the map, seeing a small “AV” in the bottom right corner. “Wow! You’re right! This was drawn by Anki Vanderheidenbeck!”

Crane, overhearing the conversation, came back into the room. “May I see that?” Dan handed the pieces to Crane, who brought them near a lamp and scrutinized them.

“I’ve seen this same map before, at the General’s headquarters,” stated Crane. “I’d like to take these pieces and review them further. I must assume the Horseman wasn’t looking for the map or he would have taken it, but perhaps there is a clue within it somewhere.”

Trixie, who had followed Crane, looked at the walls of the main room. “I think that map is important somehow. All of the pictures were pulled off the wall, but the map was the only thing that was hacked up.”

This girl has good instincts, thought Abbie. “You may be right, Trixie. Hopefully we’ll find something in it to help us out.”

They resumed their search, but found nothing else. Suddenly, Abbie heard Trixie’s excited voice from the small bedroom. “Mr. Crane!” she exclaimed. “Come here!” Abbie, Dan and Mart crowded into the room where Trixie was crouched on the floor near the wall, Crane standing nearby.

“What is it, Miss Belden?” asked Crane. “Have you found something?”

“There’s a loose floorboard here!” she exclaimed as she tried to move the board in question.

He suppressed a smile at her enthusiasm. “There are likely many loose floorboards here. The cottage is over two hundred years old.”

“I just have a feeling this is important.” The floorboard in question was loose, but it moved lengthwise. Trixie wiggled it back and forth. The board was at the end closest to the back wall.

“We need one of Brom’s awls or a flat head screwdriver or something,” she said. “I have a hunch. Could someone please go find something we can use to pry the baseboard up? I think once it’s moved, the floorboard will come up.” She blew a curl off of her forehead.

Crane nodded and went in search of a tool, returning with a decent sized awl.

“Allow me,” said Crane, wedging the awl between the wall and the baseboard and leaning on it. A cracking sound signaled that the baseboard was giving way. It splintered, revealing a small cut-out section at the edge of the floorboard.

“I was right!” exclaimed Trixie. She proceeded to put two fingers into the cutout and popped the floorboard up and away from the rest of the floor. Below the flooring was dirt. A section of the dirt about two by two feet below the floor had been dug out, and a metal box lay inside the hole. Crane lifted the box out. It had an old-fashioned lock on it.

“Let’s take it out into the other room where there’s more light,” said Abbie.

As they walked back into the main room, Jim and Diana entered, having heard the commotion from outside.

“What did you find?” asked Jim.

“Trixie found this old box under a floorboard,” answered Dan.

“Good job, Trix,” Jim said, giving Trixie a wink. “If there’s something to be found, you’ll find it!”

“Can we postpone the congratulatory cogitations and see what’s in the box?” asked Mart impatiently. While Mart’s use of big words had subsided somewhat over the years, he still tended to use them when excited.

Abbie looked at him, eyebrows raised, and then returned her attention to the box. “I think my lock picks are all too big for this lock.”

“How about a bobby pin?” asked Diana, holding one towards Abbie.

“Perfect!” she answered, taking the bobby pin and starting to work on the lock. Within a few seconds they heard a click.

“Yes!” exclaimed Trixie. “Open it, open it!”

Abbie carefully opened the rusted lid, revealing an elaborately carved wooden box. On the top of the box was a pyramid enclosed by a square and compass.

“That’s a Freemason insignia,” observed Crane.

“Is that significant?” asked Dan.

“The Freemasons have been part of the cause since the beginning, and we have been in recent contact with them,” Crane replied.

Abbie lifted the lid. Inside was a sheaf of hand-written papers. She removed them carefully.

“It looks like a will,” she said.

The first page was indeed a will, handwritten a long time ago from the looks of the paper. It left the cottage and its contents to Jeltje Vanderpoel. The remaining pages looked much newer. Upon first glance it was a story, but the word “Moloch” jumped out at Abbie as she began to read.

“It looks like he wrote down what he believed was happening in Sleepy Hollow. This might be of some use.” She returned the papers to the box saying, “We’ll take this with us and see if we can get any further clues from it.”

Trixie looked longingly at the box. “Could we get a copy of the papers?” she asked hopefully.

Abbie considered the question for a moment before answering. “I want to review them

before I make a decision. I’ll let you know after I’ve had a chance to read them. You do not to follow any clues without Crane and me? The forces at work can’t be dealt with by normal means.”

Trixie and Honey nodded their agreement as Dan looked at them dubiously. Abbie noticed his look. It might be difficult to keep them from following a lead as soon as they discovered it. She would have to keep a close eye on them.

After determining there was nothing else to be found in the cottage, Jim and Dan, with Crane’s assistance, quickly boarded up the doorway that had been damaged. Crane and Abbie left for the station while the rest of the Bob-Whites headed home.

Dan’s car pulled up in front of Belden-Wheeler Investigations. He parked and turned to Trixie . “Remember what Abbie said about going rogue,” he cautioned. He wasn’t happy that he had to return to the city, but he not only had to work the next day, he had to give his notice and talk to his landlord.

Trixie glared at him as she exited the car. “Really, Dan! We are adults now, you know. We know better than to go chase after a demon or a crazed horseman with an axe.”

He grinned out the window. “True, but I also know it’s just about impossible for you not to follow a clue!”

Trixie, softening at the sight of Dan’s smile, grinned. “I promise! Besides, I like Abbie and Crane, so I have no problem working with them.”

“Good. I’ll be back Friday night. Stay out of trouble!”

Trixie leaned in and gave him a kiss before he rolled up the window and pulled away.

Nothing happened for several days. On Thursday, Crane received a message from a group of local Freemasons telling him that they might have discovered the Horseman’s weakness. Crane himself, as well as most of the founding fathers, were Freemasons, and the group had long been involved in protecting mankind from evil. The Freemasons considered each other to be brothers in this battle.

He had become acquainted with these Masons when they kidnapped him as a way to try to stop the Horseman. They explained that, if he died, the Horseman would also die due to their blood tie. They had asked him to commit suicide by ingesting poison, and Crane was willing to do so. Crane’s wife Katrina had appeared to Abbie in a dream to warn her of Crane’s kidnapping and why, and that she must find a sin eater, a person able to reach into a person’s soul to consume evil, to vanquish the blood tie. With her sister Jenny’s help, she located the sin eater, Henry Parrish, and found where Crane was being held. He was able to severe the blood tie by consuming Crane’s self-perceived sin involving the death of an escaped slave. As a result, Crane was still alive and the blood tie was ended. However, Crane was also now vulnerable to the Horseman.

Crane left the archive to go to the Masons’ Lodge that evening, Abbie not far behind. When he arrived, the lights were lit throughout the large house that served as the lodge. He entered cautiously, sensing something was wrong. In the dining room, he found all four of the men he was to meet had been beheaded, their bodies scattered around the room. However, their heads were nowhere to be found. Knowing the Horseman had been there, he quickly made his way to the study, assuming that it would be the most likely place to house anything they had wanted him to have. He found the study ransacked, with books torn and a large slice through the portrait of George Washington which had hung on the wall.

Hearing a sudden noise, he grabbed a sword off the display on the wall. He could hear someone moving through the rooms toward him. The sound of heavy boots on the floor suddenly changed direction, quickly moving farther away. He made his way to the front door and was startled to see Abbie entering with her gun drawn. She pointed out the window, where the Horseman, astride his rearing horse, held up a large sack of something defiantly before riding into the night.

Crane briefly explained what he had found. Abbie called Captain Irving and Crane returned to the study to continue his search. Upon Irving’s arrival at the scene, he decreed that the massacre would be ruled a ritual suicide for the moment, despite the fact that the victims’ heads were nowhere to be found. As far as Irving was concerned, there was still no real proof that the Horseman existed. As the bodies were being removed, Abbie found Crane in the study, furiously going through damaged books.

“Find anything yet?” Abbie asked.

“They told me they had information on the Horseman, so it must be here somewhere,” he said.

“Crane, I’m sorry,” said Abbie.

“It’s war,” replied Crane coldly. “It’s not the first time I’ve lost comrades in battle, and it certainly won’t be the last.” He picked up a book and looked at the title, saying, “It must be here.” He turned to the section on the Horseman of Death, only to find that a number of pages had been removed, the remaining edges looking burned, as if they had been cut out with a hot knife.

“Damn!” he swore.

“What if the Horseman came here looking for you?” she asked.

“Then I pray that, next time, he finds me!” exclaimed Crane. “He may kill my Mason brothers, he may kill me, but I will not leave this earth with him still on it!”

“He killed my mentor; I want him dead as badly as you do,” Abbie countered.

Crane took a deep breath, looking at the slashed painting of George Washington. He suddenly realized what the Horseman had been looking for.

“I think I know why the Horseman came here tonight,” he said slowly. “He was looking for his skull!” he exclaimed.

“Why would he think it was here?” asked Abbie.

“The Masons are the traditional guardians of the secrets and artifacts for good,” Crane explained. “The Horseman would have assumed his skull was in their possession.”

“When he came last time, Katrina warned us that if he got his skull back, the other three horsemen of the apocalypse would rise,” Abbie said.

“The Horseman is here to hasten the end of days, just like before, and we must retrieve his head before he does, and this time, we destroy it.”

“We need to talk to the captain,” said Abbie. “He already left for the precinct. Let’s head back there.”

Abbie and Crane found Irving in his office, where they explained their plan to destroy the Horseman’s skull.

“Let me get this straight,” Captain Irving said as he looked askance at Abbie. “You want my permission to destroy evidence? I just asked you for more proof, and you respond by asking me to let you destroy evidence?”

“Sir, I’ll take care of it. It’ll never come back to you,” Abbie pleaded.

“I don’t have it,” replied Irving. “I sent the skull out to another lab.”

At that moment an officer poked his head through the door to let Irving know that there was a call from the district attorney for him. “I’ll call him from the car,” answered Irving. Looking at Abbie and Crane, he said, “Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

Irving got into his police-issue sedan and headed for the lab where he had sent the Horseman’s skull for further study. As he walked through the door, he surprised the lab tech, who was listening to his iPod as he worked. “Hi, Paul. What’s new?”

“Not much, Frank. I haven’t made any progress with the creepy skull.”

“I need to take it back,” he said as he eyed the skull, sitting on the counter in its glass and metal case.

“Sure thing. Creeps me out anyway.” Paul bent to open a cupboard. “I think I have the right-sized box in here somewhere.”

Frank looked more closely at the skull, and for a moment it looked as if it had eyes. He swore it moved! The damned thing creeped him out, too. Now he was seeing things. “If you don’t have a box, I’ll take a bag.”

Suddenly, a loud crashing noise sounded outside the lab. The door swung open, and in strode the Horseman, wielding an M4 rifle like the one reported missing from Deputy Andy Brooks’ apartment after he died. As Irving tried to take cover, the Horseman fired at Paul, who, having no chance to take shelter, fell to the floor with multiple bullet wounds. Irving drew his sidearm and fired at the Horseman with no effect, and then dove behind a counter as the Horseman continued to strafe the lab, bullets flying everywhere.

“Oh, my God,” Irving muttered to himself. He really hadn’t bought the story that Crane had told, at least not all of it, and he was in complete shock. Not only was there a headless Horseman, it had a freaking automatic rifle and was trying to kill him in order to get his skull back. If what Crane had said was true, he couldn’t let the Horseman get the skull! He fired several more shots at the Horseman, finally causing him to drop the rifle. The Horseman then drew his broad axe and flung it at Irving, who barely ducked in time. The axe lodged itself in the wall behind him as the Horseman pulled a shotgun from the quiver on his back and began firing once again.

Irving grabbed the case holding the skull and made towards the exit as the Horseman followed. He stopped long enough to re-load his weapon and took aim at a steam pipe next to where the Horseman stood.

He fired into the pipe, causing hot steam to explode out onto the Horseman. “Gotcha, you headless son of a bitch!” he yelled as he grabbed the case and ran for his car. As he started the engine he saw the Horseman stalking towards him through the rear view mirror. He hit the gas, tires squealing, almost hitting a large white horse with glowing red eyes. As he swerved around it incredulously, he realized it must belong to the Horseman.

Back at the precinct, Irving delivered the skull to Crane and Abbie in the archive. Still shaken, he related the story. “The surveillance cameras at the lab don’t show anything!” he yelled, frustrated that once again, there was no proof.

“It’s the same as it was with Brooks,” observed Abbie. “They can’t be seen until they want to be.”

Irving looked intently at Crane. “It’s all true – everything you told me from day one?” Crane gave him a level look but said nothing. “This is insane. He murdered Paul in front of me. I – I need to fill out a report. I need to call the Governor.”

“What are you going to tell him?” asked Crane.

“What do you think I’m going to tell him? That a headless Horseman is mowing people down to bring about the end of days, and for further questions please contact Ichabod Crane, the man that beheaded him in 1781?”

“It was a mere inquiry,” replied Crane.

“You wanted proof,” said Abbie.

Irving threw his hands in the air. “Honestly, I wanted it to be a lie.” He gestured to the glass case holding the skull. “Take the skull and destroy it.”

Over the next couple of hours, Abbie and Crane, down in the tunnels beneath the precinct, tried to destroy the skull using every method they could think of. Nothing worked, not even dynamite. Finally, Abbie decided to take it out to the wrecking yard in Tarrytown, figuring that a car crusher would do the job.

As they left the precinct Crane carried the case holding the skull. He had thrown his coat over his arm to conceal the case. He looked up at the steeple of the church across the street; something seemed off.

“Those lanterns weren’t up there earlier, were they?” he asked. “Is that common, four lanterns lit like that?”

“Probably not,” answered Abbie, looking towards the steeple. “Why?”

“In my day, Paul Revere invented a system. One lantern if the enemy comes by land, two if by sea.”

“Paul Revere’s midnight ride,” nodded Abbie.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Word might have gotten around. What do four lanterns mean?”

Crane looked up again and headed towards the building at a run, followed by Abbie. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. He reached the top of the steeple, approaching the lanterns. His fear was realized. They were not lanterns, but the heads of the four Masons, candlelight glowing from the eyeless sockets and open mouths.

“Now we know why the heads were missing. The Horseman took them,” Crane said softly.

A horrified Abbie asked, “Why would the Horseman do this?”

Crane carefully began taking the heads down from the hooks on which they hung and gently laying them down. He noticed they had been hollowed out and lit from within by candles.

“The Masons believe their minds are akin to a temple, a sacred holy place,” he responded. “We are tampering with his head and he is responding in kind.”

Abbie gingerly examined one of the heads. “He lined the heads with silver.”

“The top of the skulls?” he asked.

Abbie nodded in the affirmative.

“Paul Revere used the same technique the night the Crown arrived in the colony. In 1775 Paul Revere lined the lanterns with silver to enhance their illumination. I was guarding the safe house where Sam Adams and John Hancock were evading arrest. When I alerted Adams that the Crown was coming by sea, I saw him hand Paul Revere a silver map case with Masonic markings. It held a continuous manuscript kept the by Masons containing enemy secrets that could be used to defeat the Crown. There was a symbol on the case, a demonic heptogram. I’ve seen it in Corbin’s files. It’s a star within a star.”

“A devil’s trap,” said Abbie. “I’ve seen it too, but it’s a symbol used to trap and defeat demons.”

“Why would that be on a case holding a manuscript containing enemy secrets?” he wondered.

“Maybe they weren’t secrets to the Crown,” she answered.

He nodded in agreement. “They must have been secrets for conquering evil. We need to find that manuscript. I wonder where it could be.”

“We’re in luck. I think the manuscript you’re talking about is on display at the Tarrytown Museum. We can go there in the morning,” she stated.

As they made their way back to the car to head to the wrecking yard, Crane saw a sleek black-on-black sports car pull to the curb. The chrome writing on the side said ‘Camaro’. It was a beautiful machine. He really must learn to drive an automobile. As he moved to get a closer look, Dan stepped out, followed by Honey and finally, Trixie, who, as the shortest, had been relegated to the tiny back seat.

Abbie groaned. “Did I call you? Why are you here?”

“It’s nice to see you, too.” Dan said with a grin. “Once you’ve known Trixie for a while, you’ll realize that patience isn’t one of her virtues. I was back in town for maybe fifteen minutes before she was texting me to come with her and Honey to see you two.”

“What is that?” asked Trixie, pointing to the coat-covered object being carried by Crane, who was touching the Camaro with his free hand and looking through the open window with great interest.

“It’s –” Crane began before being cut off by Abbie.

“Come inside with us and we’ll talk more,” Abbie interrupted him.

As they made their way to the archives room, Crane could see that Abbie was debating how much to tell the others about what was happening. From what she had told him, Trixie had a reputation of being like a dog with a bone when there was a clue to be found, and she and Honey were excellent investigators. Maybe it was time to tell them everything and hope they could handle it.

As they walked farther into the precinct, Trixie asked in an excited voice, “Are we going to the archives?”

Abbie nodded. “We need to talk where we won’t be overheard. If you’re going to assist us, you need to know what we’re up against, and it’s a long story.”

Trixie and Honey had to restrain themselves from jumping for joy, while Dan hid a smile as he recognized the effort.

As they entered the archive room, the Bob-Whites’ mouths hung open at the huge amount of documentation, much of it appearing to be very old, in every available space.

“This is amazing!” exclaimed Honey. “Some of this looks like it’s hundreds of years old.”

“It is,” replied Abbie. “There’s a lot of good information buried in all of these documents, but it takes time to find it. We also have more modern methods,” she said, gesturing to the laptop on the desk.

Crane had crossed the room and now removed the coat from the skull case, setting the case on a table.

“Is – is that the Horseman’s skull?” Honey stammered as she looked toward the case somewhat fearfully.

“Yes, it is,” answered Crane. “And he has begun looking for it again. We cannot let him succeed.”

Trixie approached the case and bent over slightly to get a closer look. She straightened, her nose wrinkled. “This thing just reeks of evil.”

Abbie proceeded to fill them in on the whole story, ending with the tale of the heads they had found and their theory that the manuscript contained secrets to conquer evil. When she finished, the room was quiet for a few moments.

“So,” Trixie began slowly, “we need to find the Masons’ manuscript and hope that it contains a way to stop the Horseman?”

“Very good, Miss Belden,” Crane spoke. “Lieutenant Mills tells me that she believes the manuscript in question is located at a local museum, which we plan to visit tomorrow. We must hope it is what we think; if the Horseman obtains his skull, the other three Horsemen will return.”

“I don’t understand why the Horseman is after you,” spoke Dan. “It sounds like he was lying in wait for you at the Masons’ Lodge, but he thought the Masons had his skull. Does he think you have it now, or is it more personal?”

“Maybe because you’re the one who beheaded him to begin with?” Honey asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” admitted Crane. “He couldn’t harm me without destroying himself as long as our bloodlines were tied, but he may have felt the separation just as I did when the sin eater separated our blood, and therefore knows he can kill me without harming himself.”

Dan shook his head. “My gut says there’s more to it.”

“Well, I wish your gut would figure out a way to destroy that damn skull,” Abbie responded.

“Do you mind if we meet you at the museum? And bring the other Bob-Whites?” Trixie asked eagerly.

Abbie rolled her eyes. “I want as few people as possible to know about this. If the truth gets out to the public, there would be panic.”

“The Bob-Whites are very good at keeping secrets, and we will all help as much as we can,” Honey said. “Honestly, I think you need all the help you can get.”

Abbie reluctantly agreed, and they arranged to meet when the museum opened. As the Bob-Whites made to leave, Trixie spun around to face Abbie. “Oh, Lieutenant. Was there anything of use in Brom’s papers?”

Abbie shook her head. “I’m afraid not. It looked like he had written down some stories, almost fairy tales. The writing about Moloch didn’t go into detail. It pretty much stated what he had already told you.”

Crane spoke up at that. “I dare say they were more than stories, Lieutenant; more likely re-tellings of actual events in the past.”

Trixie nodded. “When my younger brother was little, Brom used to tell him stories of witches and fairies living right here in the Catskills.”

“I’m still puzzled as to why the Horseman would attack Brom,” said Honey. “What would the Horseman think he had? Was Brom a Mason?”

“I can’t imagine Brom belonging to any group,” said Dan.

“Just because he was a hermit now doesn’t mean he always was,” argued Trixie. “If Anki worked with General Washington, he might well have been a Mason too.” She turned to Crane. “Do you know, Mr. Crane?”

Crane thought for a minute. “I believe he may have been; many of Washington’s staff and advisors were, as we were fighting for more than the freedom of the colonies.”

“So the Horseman thought he had something that could harm either him or Moloch,” said Dan.

“It’s as good a theory as any,” said Abbie. “Now, if you don’t mind, please leave so I can go home and try to get a couple of hours sleep. My sister is supposed to be moving in with me tomorrow, and it’s too late now to go to the wrecking yard to try to destroy the skull.”

- I hope you have enjoyed the story so far. The first three chapters were submitted for CWE9 in February. The idea for this story started when I visited Ossining during Trixie Camp and realized the real Sleepy Hollow is right next to “Sleepyside”. Then, “Sleepy Hollow” premiered the next month, and I knew that I had to bring Abbie, Crane and the Horseman into Trixie’s world.
- Thanks to my very patient and diligent editor, Vivian. This story is much better thanks to you!
- I didn’t see any restored Craftsman houses in Ossining, but since I love that style of house, I decided that Sleepyside had some on Main Street.
- “42” is a real four star restaurant in White Plains.
- Nomakata was the name of the witch in a story Brom told Bobby and the Lynch boys in “Mysterious Code”.
- The name Jeltje is a Dutch name that really means “determined protector”. I was looking for a Dutch given name for Mrs. Vanderpoel, and when I read the meaning of Jeltje I knew I had found it.
- Disclaimer: This story was adapted from the Fox series “Sleepy Hollow”. I don’t own any of the characters in this story and am not profiting from it in any way. Trixie Belden and all residents of Sleepyside are property of Random House. All non-original characters residing in Sleepy Hollow, whether in the town, the woods, the river, or in another realm, are the property of Fox Studios.

Word Count: 22,011

Disclaimer: Trixie Belden® is a registered trademark of Random House© books. These pages are not for profit. Any images of Trixie Belden and other series characters are copyright by Random House© books and are used respectfully, but without permission.