When she wakes, it is to the lights and sirens of law enforcement and medics as they arrive at the scene. She tries to stand up, but a pair two, blue gloved hands soon come and press her gently back onto the pavement.

"Easy does it, Lieutenant. We got you."

"Fernando Juarez? Is he—"

"Stabilized. The other unit just left. He's on his way to Phelps Memorial right now." His blue-gloved hands dance an efficient ballet of checks and scans of her body and her awareness. "Look into the light, please."

She allows him to check her pupil dilation. "Crane. Mrs. Juarez?"

"Still in the house. We've got this lieutenant." The medic tries to get her to stand. "You hurt anywhere?"

Abbie remembers herself and runs an awareness check of her limbs and trunk. "My right shoulder. Yeah. It's sore." She gives it a stiff roll. "Fell down hard. Probably landed on it."

The medic checks her collarbone and then moves the arm in its socket. Abbie complies—the pain is dull and throbbing.

"Fight or flight is a funny thing. Everyone reacts differently. Some people feel like they've been hit by a truck, afterward. Some people pass out. I knew one guy, threw up every time he had to take a shot." Satisfied, the medic closes up his kit and extends his hand to her left side. "Can you stand?"

Abbie nods and lets herself be helped up by the medic. Together, they walk to the ambulance where Irving is waiting for her.

"Mills."

"Captain." The medic helps her to sit on the floor of the ambulance and finds a cold gel pack for her shoulder.

"After you give your statement to Internal Review, we're gonna have something to talk about, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

Irving leaves, and the two officers from Internal Review come to take her statement about the shooting.

Abbie looks at the medic and waits for him to finish his ministrations. He leaves with a terse smile and a quick pat on her undamaged left shoulder. "Good luck, Lieutenant."

"Thanks." She turns back to the officers. "Abbie Mills."

"I'm Detective Druck. This is Detective Tatham. We're here to take your statement about the shooting of Fernando Juarez," says the shorter of the two men.

"This interview will be recorded." Detective Tatham pulls out a device and clicks it on. "Abbie Mills. Internal Review Interview for the shooting of Fernando Juarez, Sleepy Hollow. Lieutenant Mills, do we have your permission to record this interview?"

"Yes," she replies.

"Tell us what happened tonight. In your own words," asks Detective Druck.

"We got a call about a domestic disturbance. We checked it out. The wife was inside, told us the husband wasn't acting like himself. He was violent—not to her, but to the house. We were told that he retrieved the family gun and left the scene."

Tatham nods. "We found Crane with her, and he told us the same story. But he couldn't tell us what happened afterward."

"I cleared the grounds around the house," Abbie said. "And then I started a search for Mr. Juarez. Found him a the end of the street. He had a gun to his head—he was talking about not being in control and that he didn't hurt her."

"His wife?" asks Druck

"I think." Abbie nods as she remembers the scene. "And then I hear the lock of the hammer, and I realize that he's going to hurt himself. The scene is clear except for Mr. Juarez and I, and I have a clear line of sight to his shoulder. I decide to try to stop him before he hurts himself." She remembers the shot. "Afterwards, I ran to him, he had a clean shoulder wound and a graze to his skull. Applied pressure to the wound and called it in."

"Which hand did he hold the gun with?" asks Druck.

Abbie thinks to herself. "His right. He held the gun to his head with his right hand." Abbie nods. "I shot him in his right shoulder, thinking that I could either stop his shot or throw his aim, at least."

"How many shots were fired, Lieutenant?" asks Tatham.

"Two. One by Mr. Juarez and one by myself."

"Did he shoot you, Lieutenant? You were found at the scene, passed out. Are you injured?"

She shakes her head. "No." She pauses. "Medic said something about fight or flight being stressful. Some people throw up, some people pass out. Guess I passed out." She watches as they write notes into their book. "Look, for the record, Mr. Juarez seemed like he was in extreme duress. He kept saying that he wasn't in control and that he was afraid that he would harm his wife." Abbie pauses. "I think he was doing it to save her, to save his wife."

"From who?" asks Druck. Both he and Tatham look at her inquisitively.

From what, she thinks silently. "From himself, I think."

Tatham turns off the tape. "Thank you, Detective."

Druck nods. "You've been through this before—you'll be on leave for a few days. Evidence will gather gun shot residue from Mr. Juarez's clothes and skin. IR will put together a report."

Tatham nods and puts the recorder back into his pocket. "Get a good rest, Lieutenant."

Druck nods. "Looking forward to seeing back out on the streets soon, Detective."

"Thanks, guys." Abbie watches and Tatham and Druck walk away from her.

Irving, who's been nearby, comes up to her. "That all you have to say, Lieutenant? Or did you leave anything out, like how you came to be passed out on the pavement?" He looks at her expectantly. "You've been in situations like this before—you passing out from stress does not add up."

"Juarez, when he was shot, he went into shock. He . . ." she pauses and looks for the words. "He started to shake, and then started to glow red. I've never seen anything like it. And then this force picks me up and slams me against the pavement. Last thing I remember, before I passed out, was a presence. It felt evil. Searching."

"You and Crane. You know what's going on."

"We think it's a creature. The Yenaldooshi. Possesses a person, makes them kill and eat other people."

Irving whistles. "You two figured out how to stop it?"

"No, sir. We're working on it." Abbie thinks for a moment. "The Yenaldooshi wasn't successful tonight. It'll be looking for a new host."

"What does that mean, Detective?" asks Irving.

"We have a day, a couple of days at most before another one of these disturbances happen again." Abbie gives Irving a look of determination. "Any domestic disturbances in the next few days, Captain, might be the Yenaldooshi. We need to get to the partners and children quickly before the Yenaldooshi can do them harm."

Irving nods. "We'll put a priority on the domestic disturbances until we can catch this thing."

"The men, too, they don't know what they're doing. They're possessed. If there was a way we can keep them safe, so they don't hurt anyone, while we figure out how to get the Yenaldooshi out of them, we can save the men so that they can go back to their families."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Irving straightens. "You have two days of administrative leave, Mills. You and Crane use them to figure out how we're going to stop this thing."

"Understood, sir." She watches as Captain Irving turns and walks away to manage the scene.

The medic reappears. "Detective, how you doin'?"

Abbie gives him a terse smile. "Better. In one piece, thanks to you."

"Ice it. You should feel better soon." The medic retrieves the gel pack from her shoulder.

Abbie adjusts her clothing and stands. "You seen my partner? Tall, long hair—"

"British accent? Doesn't trust doctors?" the medic asks.

Abbie grins. "Yeah. Sounds like him."

"Real worried about you—when we got here, he kept yelling for his partner. We weren't sure if he was a victim, a bad guy, or one of us." The medic nodded toward her SUV. "Your Captain Irving came, talked to him, and he settled down." The medic gives her a smile. "He's been waiting at your car."

"Thanks." Abbie looks towards the Juarez's house, where her car is parked, but her partner is nowhere to be found.

She goes to her car. "Crane? Crane?" From her vantage point, she looks around the crime scene, but the familiar lanky profile that she seeks is nowhere to be found.

Abbie is just about to take off down the street, back down toward the scene of the shooting, when she hears a voice coming from behind her.

"Here, Lieutenant!" his voice calls to her from the back of the house.

"Crane!" She jogs to him, slowly. She finds him looking with confusion at the forest behind the Juarez house. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I heard . . ." he pauses, looking into the darkness. "It was nothing." He turns to her, and at first, it as if he is in a trance. A blank look covers his features, and it is only after a confused, furious blinking that Crane focuses on the short woman in front of him. "Miss Mills! Are you hurt? Are you injured? What happened to Mr. Juarez? Captain Frank was here. Mrs. Juarez, she—"

"Not now, Crane. Let's get you home, and we can talk about it on the way," Abbie replies.