CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Bright Renewal Academy? You’re writing a complaint against Bright Renewal?” Chief Dewey chuckled. “An actual search warrant! You know that’s impossible, don’t you? No judge would ever sign it.”
Head pounding from her unfortunate collision with a spectral shield of almost unfathomable strength, Hero ground a fist against her forehead instead of punching her commanding officer with it. “And why is that, pray tell?”
Dewey sighed, then settled on the edge of her desk, tugging the complaint from beneath her pen. He read through it, less amused the more he perused the document. He crumpled it into a ball with a scowl.
“Is there a problem with my grammar?”
“Look.” He crossed his arms. “I know you grew up here, but you’ve been gone a long time, and your childhood was… less than ideal.”
She bit down on a sharp retort, wanting him to get to the point.
“So maybe your memories are fuzzy about how things work around here. But the people who fund Bright Renewal Academy are powerful. Important. They wouldn’t be caught up in any of this mess, I promise you.”
“ This mess being murder?” she countered, frustrated and confused.
“Honestly, Chief, you’re right. My less-than-ideal childhood kept me out of the loop, and I honestly don’t care who pulls the strings in this town.
I’m after a murderer, and I go where the evidence takes me, no matter whose feathers I might ruffle. ”
“Yes, that was very obvious from your antics the other day at Grantham House.” He scowled. “I need you to tread a little more lightly, Inspector. If you step on the wrong toes, this whole investigation will be shut down. If I give you free rein, I could be out of a job. Do you understand?”
No, she did not understand. “Why did you even bring me here, Chief?” she demanded. “Do you want this case solved, or do you want to maintain your position?”
“I would like to do both,” he admitted. His eyes cut away from her, and he at least appeared somewhat embarrassed by her question.
“And I called you because I believe there’s a demon at work here – a demon , Inspector, not the Goddess-damned mayor or Madam Primm.
Not the town’s biggest benefactors. So focus on the supernatural aspects of this case, all right? ”
“I am . And they are leading me to that creepy school on a hill, Chief. A place protected by a formidable shield, I might add. A place that didn’t exist when I lived in Havenside – I don’t care what you say.
A place that looks older than Clementine, but by the halls of Hell, I don’t think it was there before a year ago. And Keen agrees with me!”
There was a shadow of confusion in his eyes. “That’s madness, Inspector. Bright Renewal Academy is an institution. It’s been around as long as I can remember. It saves children from going down a bad path.”
The words were rote. He sounded like Molly Franke had when she’d spoken of the place. It was as if everyone was reading off a script.
“It’s a good place, right?” she said mockingly, suspicion turning in her belly.
Dewey’s expression hardened. The confusion cleared from his eyes, replaced by absolute certainty. “It is,” he said firmly.
There was a shift in the air between them. He didn’t move, but Hero felt a chasm open wide. She pushed back in her chair and stared at him. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” she said, more to herself than to him. “What is happening here?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Inspector.”
Hero stood. The other PKs in the office had taken notice of their conversation by now and were side-eyeing them both, murmuring among themselves.
She noticed a few scandalized expressions, some gleeful and some downright disgusted.
She was used to the other PK officers giving her stares of disapproval – even after working in New Savage for three years, the looks never stopped, and not once did she think her rank and status made her one of them – but it still stung.
“Where’s Liam?” she demanded, scanning the bullpen for his tall, rigid figure. Even if he hated her being here, he wouldn’t lie just to fuck with her. Not like the rest of these bastards. “We grew up together. He’ll back me up, I know it.”
“Lieutenant Franke is taking a few days leave to deal with a family… situation.”
Great . She seethed silently, but perked up just a bit at the idea her mother might have dropped dead.
She glared at Dewey, who was glaring back, arms crossed tight across his chest. It made her irrationally angry.
She’d thought he was one of the good ones, a real peacekeeper, but he was just like all the others.
When push came to shove, he would protect the rich and powerful.
Why did he even bring her here if he was going to stonewall her?
Unless it wasn’t his choice.
The thought hit her like a physical blow. Could her enemy have the power to bespell an entire town? Was that why everyone had the same thing to say about this mysterious academy?
Billowing darkness oozing from a decrepit structure, spreading like ink across the hills, across the town…
She sat, stunned. Perhaps Dewey took it for capitulation, because he relaxed, his tone turning mild and reasonable.
“Listen, Inspector,” he said. “Until you bring me real, solid evidence of foul play, I won’t allow you to put in your complaint for a search warrant at Bright Renewal.
Havenside is not like the city. People know each other here.
Everyone has their fingers in everything.
Start rocking the boat among a certain set and doors get slammed in our faces, understand?
Please, Inspector Viridian, you must tread carefully. ”
For a moment, she considered staring him down with unshielded eyes – the sight of those swirling flames had cowed many a tough guy – but she refrained.
It wouldn’t do any good. She knew that now.
“Understood, Chief .” The words dropped bitter and hard.
She swiped up the crumpled complaint. “I’ll get that evidence, I promise you. ”
The old farmhouse at the end of Dewberry Lane was dark and empty, the paint peeling, nearly all the windows broken and the porch steps sagging.
The faded front door stood ajar, hanging from rusty hinges.
Once, it had been a bright and cheery blue, the steps leading to it solid and broad.
The clapboards had gleamed white, freshly painted every spring.
Shining windows had looked out upon the world.
Now, all of that was a distant memory. This was a house of horrors.
It had always been a house of horrors.
When she’d stormed out of the PK station, her partner calling after her in confused frustration, Hero had not known where she was going.
She’d just wanted to be away from Dewey and whatever was going on with him.
She’d thought the chief a strong man, a good PK – he’d sent for her, hadn’t he?
At some point, he’d been clearheaded – but now, it was clear he’d been corrupted.
The darkness underlying the town was growing stronger.
And she didn’t know what to do about it.
She’d briefly considered returning to the mysterious Bright Renewal Academy and taking a closer look at that shield, but her head still ached and she didn’t want to tangle with it again.
She’d expected to end up in a tavern, at the very least – a good, stiff drink was calling her name right now – but instead her steps had led her here, to the last place on earth she wanted to be.
The one place she’d hoped never to see again.
Home.
The road in front of her old house had seen better days.
It was a shame, really. This house, this farm, had been one of the nicest residences in North Havenside.
Not a rich man’s house, certainly, but one of a man who was up and coming.
Her father, who was not her father, had overseen this place for a good decade before she’d come along to ruin it all.
Bad luck, having a demon child. Should have drowned the creature in the lake. Burned it alive. Staked it through the heart. Only a soft man would allow such a child to live.
Hero stared up at the dark and empty windows.
They looked like eyes, watching her. Judging her.
Blaming her. “It’s not my fault you are wrecked and ruined,” she muttered to it, her hands jammed into the pockets of her duster.
“I didn’t force Collin Franke to drink away his fortune.
I was long gone by then, stashed away in that damnable convent. ”
The steps creaked under her boots. Dry rot had eaten into the wood and she had to jump over a hole in the porch to reach the front door, all the while cursing herself for being so stupid. Why was she doing this to herself? She hated this place. She’d known nothing but misery here.
Laughter in the halls. Two kids chasing each other, playing hide and seek. The boy could never hide from his sister. She could see through walls…
Red-hot pokers resting in the fireplace – the third set they’d purchased in as many weeks. Nothing would work. The eyes kept growing back. Finally, frustrated, Mother giving up, settling on daily beatings to keep the girl’s demon half at bay.
The fireplace was cold, empty of even ash.
No furniture remained, having been sold or scavenged over the years.
Hero felt too big, standing in the old family room.
The velvet wallpaper, white and rose, hung in strips, revealing horsehair plaster walls pockmarked and water stained.
Images crashed in her brain, and she did her best to shake them loose.
Her breath was coming a little quicker, the memories crowding her.