The incessant squawk of the box with the lit time seemed to cry in tandem with the knock that came pounding on the door of the motel room that Ichabod Crane had come to call home, for the time being at least. Crane peered through heavy lids to see that a slice of sunlight cut across the unexpectedly comfortable bed that he slept upon. With a heavy swing of his hand, Crane tried in vain to silence the head splitting cry of that infernal box that sat near his head, but to no avail.
"Crane?" Lieutenant Abbie Mills familiar voice roused from the other side of the door. "Are you decent?"
Without answering her, Ichabod swung his long legs over the side of the bed as he sat up, silently cursing the continuing cry of the alarm. He knew that keeping miss Mills waiting would be a bother to both of them in the end, so quickly he slid on his faded trousers before opening the door to greet the woman who had become somewhat of a partner.
"Good morning, lieutenant," Ichabod greeted Abbie at the door.
"Morning," Abbie mumbled as she realized that Crane had greeted her in only his trousers, the top half of him bared to the cold, late October morning air. She tried to keep her eyes above his shoulders to avoid any awkward glances at his bare chest. His hair hung loose and tangled from the previous night's sleep, and his eyes seemed redder than usual. That's when Abbie heard the alarm sounding in the background.
"Trouble with the alarm?" she asked, trying not to let a giggle pass through her lips.
"If you must know," Crane said in admission of defeat. "Yes. I cannot seem to make the damn thing cease."
"Here," Abbie offered as she slid passed Crane and into the darkened motel room. "Just flip this switch," she showed him as she talked. "It should turn it off."
As Abbie flipped the switch off she double checked the time it had been set for and this time she couldn't help but laugh at her poor partner. "Has this been going on since three in the morning?" she laughed out loud.
Crane's refusal to answer as he pulled his thinning shirt over his head was confirmation of her question. Lieutenant Mills composed herself and offered an apologetic smile to Ichabod. She needed to remind herself that while sometimes she couldn't help but be leery of his claims, he was completely out of his element most of the time and she should be offering him help, not laughing at his expense.
"Come on," she said in a much more professional tone while Crane pulled his hair back off his face. "I think we could both use some coffee."
They exited the motel room and walked towards Mills' police cruiser. To anyone looking upon them, they might cut an interesting picture. She, in her plain clothed police uniform of brown slacks and a matching blazer, gun exposed on her hip and he, towering over his partner while wearing clothing from another time that were quickly thinning from constant washing and rewearing. Abbie had offered many times to help him pick out new clothing, something that would help him fit in a little better. Yet he constantly refused her, adamant that he preferred his own clothing to what the current styles had to offer.
"I assume there is a destination we are heading to?" Crane asked lieutenant Mills as he gazed out the window of the cruiser. He was beginning to get use to riding in the car and part of him wanted to ask her to teach him how to drive it as well, but while he knew she would be happy to teach him, he also worried how he looked to his partner, her having to help him with so much. He didn't wish to burden her anymore than he already had.
"First coffee," Mills answered quite seriously. She needed her second coffee of the day, and she needed it now. "Then we need to head over to the cemetery. Sounds like some kids were having a little fun before Halloween, but the captain thinks there's a chance it might be something a little more sinister and wants us to check it out to be sure."
"Fun?" Crane asked as Abbie turned the cruiser into the Starbucks parking lot. "In a cemetery? What could children be doing for fun in a cemetery?"
Abbie allowed herself a hopefully unnoticeable eye roll before she answered. "Not children, exactly," she told him as she parked the car and got out, waiting for Crane to follow. "Teenagers. Halloween is only a few days away and knocking over headstones and being a bit destructive comes with the holiday."
"An odd way to celebrate, but I suppose this is considered normal?" Crane asked, a little perturbed by lieutenant Mills' indifference to the desecration of hollowed ground.
"Not normal," she corrected as she held the door open for her partner as they walked into the coffee shop. "Just expected this time of year."
"Good morning," a chipper young barista in a standard green apron asked from behind the counter. Her smile never wavered but Abbie caught the young woman giving Crane a once over, her eyes lingering just a little too long. "What can I get for you?"
"Venti bold with an extra shot of espresso," Abbie clipped at the young woman. As soon as the slightly snippy words left her mouth she regretted her tone. She didn't know why the young girl's obvious attraction to Crane bothered her like had. Abbie had to admit that yes, he was an attractive man, but he was still technically married, and Abbie certainly didn't have the time or energy to waste looking at her partner like that.
"Sorry," Abbie professed. "Just need my caffeine. Get a little cranky without it."
"That's okay!" the barista assured her with a glowing smile. "I totally get it." Then she turned to Ichabod and asked him for his ordered.
"What do you have to offer in terms of tea?" he asked as he took notice of her name tag and added, "Miss Claire," which made the young girl giggle.
"Sure! We have a selection of Tazo teas including Awake, Calm, Green Peach, Chai, Passion, Vanilla Rooibos, Earl Grey -"
Ichabod cut her off there. "Earl Grey would be fine, thank you."
A weird sort of awkward silence fell between Mills and Crane as they waited somewhat impatiently for their drinks to be ready. Something about how Abbie had spoken to the young woman behind the counter seemed strange to Ichabod and he couldn't quite put his finger on what seemed odd about the whole exchange, while Abbie couldn't shake the weird embarrassment she was feeling.
A crackle sparked across Abbie's radio, thankfully calling attention away from the growing silence that crept between partners.
"Lieutenant Mills?" Detective Morales' voice cracked across the radio.
"Go ahead," Abbie responded as she turned from the counter, leaving Ichabod to get their drinks.
"Mills, we've got a, well, I'm not quite sure. But you need to get down to the Cutler place, and now. And bring Crane."
"No can do," she answered. "Captain has Crane and me heading over to check out those cemetery vandalisms."
"I think he's going to want you over here," her fellow officer responded. "I think the headless guy is back."
"Crane," Abbie called as Ichabod picked up their drinks. "We gotta go, now."
Panic ebbed at the walls of Mills' stomach. The last time the Headless Horseman showed his… well showed up she lost her partner and mentor. She looked up at Crane before taking her coffee from him and worry crept over her at the thought of losing her new partner.
"Lieutenant?" Crane asked as he took a sip of his coffee before returning to the cruiser. "Is everything all right?"
"No," she admitted as they got back in the car. "The Horseman is back, and I think he's had another victim."
Crane returned her statement with silence, pondering as he sipped his tea and Abbie drove, sirens on their cruiser waling as they passed through town. Crane wondered what made the Horseman reappear, and why now? The moon was not full, there had been little if any signs signalling his return, and above all else his intuition was telling him that it wasn't the Horseman. Somehow he knew without knowing, and wondered if it was the strange connection he shared with the Horseman that allowed him to know this.
Still, he kept silent. Telling the lieutenant would only raise more questions and right now she seemed troubled enough. They could discuss it later when she seemed more herself. It troubled Crane to see her looking so worried, and he couldn't help but watch her face as she drove. Little lines of worry gathered by the sides of her mouth as she seemed to fret and he wondered if there was something he could do or say to ease her worry, but nothing seemed appropriate.
Speeding down the town roads, racing through red lets, Abbie and Ichabod arrived at the gated estate of the Cutlers in under five minutes, but there was a circus waiting for them. Abbie wasn't surprised to see a news van waiting there, a murder on the property of the wealthiest family in town? Of course there would be interest.
Abbie parked the car, but raised a hand to stop Crane from leaving before they had a word. "see that van right there?" she pointed at the van with the antenna and the sign that read "News 5 Action Team" in bold red letters.
"Yes?" Crane answered, not truly sure what a van was, but he could see where she was pointing at least.
"Do not, and I mean do NOT speak to anyone from that van. They will have cameras and they will take what you say and twist it. Just don't speak to them. Or anyone who isn't a cop. Actually, anyone who isn't me."
Crane was taken aback. He'd been working hard to become personable with the lieutenant's fellow officers and to be taken seriously. Now Abbie was telling him he couldn't talk to anyone but her? The thought of it made him indignant.
"Why?" he asked, but she didn't look like she was going to be forthcoming with an answer.
"Just," she sighed. "Sometimes I'm still not sure I believe everything going on. If this gets on the news? It could be bad news for all of us. Just try to keep your head down."
As they left the cruiser Abbie was once again reminded of how much she wished Crane would let her help him pick out new clothing. He was sure to stick out amongst the other officers, and she prayed her fellow cops would be smart enough to avoid talking to the cameras.
"What do we got?" Abbie asked Morales, who was bent over the corpse, examining the dirty, bloodied body.
"Morning, lieutenant Mills," he greeted her, then turned to offer Crane a nod. "Mrs. Cutler came down to get the paper this morning, found the gardener like this and she called us from her cell right away."
"Wait," Mills asked, looking over at Crane before she proceeded. "This is the gardener?"
"Yeah," Morales confirmed. "Kid by the name of Carlos. He's been working here for about six months, started when he got into town. By all accounts a hard worker who kept his head down and was pretty quiet."
While Mills got the run down from Morales, Crane took the time to look over the body, going straight to the most obvious cause of the death; the victim's head had been removed from his shoulders. This wasn't like the others though, there was no clean slice and the grass was stained with blood. The wound had not been cauterized like the previous victims. In fact, it appeared that the head was removed with what might have even been a dull blade, and poorly at that. The wound was ragged, hacked, and unclean.
"Lieutenant," Crane called to Abbie. "Come look at this."
Quickly Abbie was beside her partner, wanting to chastise him for referring to her as 'left tenant' where the cameras might here, but quickly she saw what he was calling attention to. She too saw the ragged wound and the blood soaked ground. This wasn't the Horseman, and she knew it just as well as Crane.
"Detective Morales," Abbie called to her former lover, doing her utmost as always to seem professional. "This wasn't the work of the Horseman."
"No?" he asked, raising an eyebrow to the unlikely pair, then giving Crane a very different once over that the one he received from the barista. This one was territorial, and somewhat of a warning.
"No," Abbie repeated as she sensed the tension between the two men. "The wounds on the previous victims," she swallowed hard, remembering finding her partner in that barn, the wound on his neck when she found him, "was cauterized and clean. Look at this," she pointed as she pulled on a blue glove and lifted a flap of skin with her finger. "This is a mess."
"You thinking copycat?" Morales asked as he took a closer look.
"Maybe," Abbie shrugged. "But it's not the Horseman and therefore as it stands it's not part of my investigation. I trust you can handle it without us."
She didn't wait for a response. The alpha male tension was palpable and she didn't need to be part of some pissing contest between Crane and Morales before she'd had a chance to finish her coffee.
Thankfully Crane kept quiet until they were safely back in the cruiser where their words were their own.
"You knew it wasn't him before we got here," Abbie asked, no, told Crane. "How?"
Ichabod himself couldn't be certain of the reason. He just knew, and thankfully the proof was there for anyone who took the time to look.
"I don't have an explanation for it," Crane told his partner. "I just know it. It's outside reasoning, this I know, but I knew." He wasn't ready to admit how deep his link to the Horseman might run, not even to himself, so that detail he decided to keep quiet.
"We'll let Morales handle it," Abbie told Crane, trying to keep her voice still as water as she spoke her ex-boyfriend's name. "We've got to get over the cemetery before the captain has my head.
It was a weak attempt at a joke to lighten the tension, but Ichabod gave her a soft chuckle. He enjoyed working with Abbie, even though he knew she was hiding much from him. It was only fair, as he knew there were things he couldn't yet speak of to her either. At the current time, their partnership was beneficial, and he even dared to admit, very enjoyable.
Though silence fell in the cruiser, this time it was enjoyable. Crane enjoyed riding with Abbie, watching the road as they traveled. It was comforting in a strange way, and though this time was strange and confusing, having lieutenant Mills with him made things seem a little less daunting. If this business at the cemetery turned out to be as mundane as a simple beheading, as odd as that sounded, maybe he would admit some small defeat and let Abbie take him to the place she called 'the mall'.
It was clear from the moment they arrived at the crime seen that things certainly were going to be much more complicated. Simple vandalism it was not, Ichabod instantly recognized many ancient demonic symbols outlining several unearthed graves.
"Lieutenant," an older officer greeted Mills and her partner.
"Deputy Hurt," Abbie greeted the slightly overweight officer with a curt nod. "What happened."
"Well, we aren't sure, but we can see why the captain requested you two." The deputy gestured towards Crane with a nod of his head. "Four graves in all, all from that wreck on I-95 a month or so back, the big one with the tanker truck."
"I remember," Abbie nodded glumly. Four college kids died just about instantly when their car lost control and slammed head first into a fuel tanker. She'd been in charge of making sure the clean up crew catalogued each severed limb, and it had been a long, arduous job that she cared to not repeat.
"We're not sure how they did it, but somehow they dug up four graves without waking anyone."
"Maybe it was a few people?" Abbie offered a guess as she watched Crane circle an empty grave.
"Lieutenant!" he called over to his partner. "Come look at this."
Before Abbie could answer, Crane was asking for her pad of paper and a pen, quickly creating the diagram painted around the grave.
"Blood?" Abbie asked as she leaned down to get a closer look at the red marks in the dirt.
"We think so," Deputy Hurt told her. "We've already sent a sample to the lab."
"What does it mean?" she asked Crane in a low voice, not sure if the deputy would take this as seriously as it needed to be.
"I'm not sure," Crane answered, his eyes never leaving the sketch pad. "But I know I've seen it before. We must go back to the office, I think I know where to look."
"One sec," Abbie told him as he circled the grave once more. Before taking off again she wanted to be sure they hadn't missed anything imperative, but the graves were clean. Not eve a speck of dirt appeared to be out of place, save the strange marks on the ground. She got the all clear from the deputy before she drove her and Crane back to the station.
"What is it?" she asked in the car, unable to recognize the strange marks on the pad of paper; they were much easier to see when they weren't marks in the dirt. The symbol was a strange oval, almost like a pentagram but with strange, foreign letters marking around it.
"I'm not sure," Crane told her as he studied his sketch. "I've seen it before, I'm certain of it. I believe we will find the answer in Washington's bible."
Abbie led Crane through the station, trying to ignore any of the looks her fellow officers gave her on their way by. Though strange things were continuing to happen in town, when word got out to many of the other officers that Crane might truly be a man from 250 years in the past, many were reluctant to believe it, instead cracking jokes at her and Crane's expense.
"You take the bible," Abbie told Crane as they made it to their safe space within the station walls. "And I'll see what I can find online."
"On what line?" Crane asked, his face comically puzzled and Abbie smiled at him, enjoying his strange naivety.
"The internet," she tried explaining with a laugh, but that only served to confuse him more. "It's like books, but they are all in one spot and can be looked at through a viewer anywhere in the world."
"Fascinating," Crane said as he gazed over her shoulder as he logged on. "What's millsa1993?"
"My log in name."
"Why is it different than your real name?"
"Because there can only be one Abbie Mills online and it was taken."
"Wait, but why can't you have the same name?" Crane was only becoming more confused and while Abbie loved watching the wheels in his head spin, they had work to do.
"Focus on the bible. I'll show you the internet later."
Ichabod focused on skimming each page in Washington's bible, yet nothing brought him closer to the meaning of the mysterious symbol. Occasionally he would glance up at Abbie, watching her eyes dart across the screen of the laptop she was using, and he wanted to ask her more about this 'internet', but remained quiet, knowing work had to be done. The symbols were decidedly sinister and they needed to find the origin before worse things appeared.
"Crane," Abbie called to her partner and he stretched his long legs out of their curled position on the couch where he read to come join her. "Look at this."
On the screen Abbie showed Crane a page dedicated to ancient glyphs and symbols, finally revealing the mysterious diagram they'd found in the cemetery. "It's old, from the ancient Celts," she told him and watched as he poked the symbol on the screen with his finger, startling himself as the screen changed to a fuzzy green and purple where he'd pressed.
"Yeah, the computer doesn't like that," she told him. "Does that help at all?"
"I'm not sure," his voice was a low murmur as he thought. "Does it say what it means."
"Just that it's 'a giver of life'," she shrugged. "But that doesn't sound to bad."
"It does when it surrounds a grave. Something tells me those bodies climbed out, and now they're roaming free."
"Impossible," Abbie shook her head. "I saw those corpses, and they weren't walking anywhere. Besides, what would anyone want with the corpses of four guys who were basically road kill?"
"Mills," Morales greeted Abbie, while offering Crane only a glance as he entered their private sanctuary.
"What is it?" Abbie asked, startled by his appearance.
"Found something weird on that gardener, might be related to the grave robbing. It was a grave robbing, wasn't it?" Morales asked her before continuing.
"As it stands now," she told him, offering no more.
"Well, that gardener wasn't just working with top soil," Morales told her as he handed her the file. "Dirt matches the stuff from the graves. Whoever took the head of that gardener also took those bodies."
Abbie looked at Crane and saw on his face the same thing she was feeling. This was their case after all, and they needed to solve it before anyone else met the fate of that poor gardener.