CHAPTER 11

THE LEDGER

I avoided Katrina for the rest of the day; only speaking when spoken to, and even then, my answers were short and to the point. It was only when I heard the front door shut that I emerged from the library where I had been skimming through mindless books of scientific investigations. Even with all I had been through over the past twenty-four hours, my mind still questioned why Ichabod had been reluctant and refused to answer my questions concerning the tree or anything else in particular.

I knew I'd have to find the answers myself and as discreetly as possible. Although I was quite sore, I didn't know when I'd have this house, this mansion, to myself again and I should take it to my best advantage to search for something that would point me in the right direction.

The first place I'd start with would be Ichabod's study. It was a small room connecting to his laboratory, and I had noticed it when I had interrupted him at his work… when he kissed me so intensely... I shook my head, clearing my mind. Now wasn't the time to think of romance. If I wanted to make any progress in my investigation I would need to hurry.

I opened the door to his study, and entered a crowded room with walls of bookshelves containing hundreds and hundreds of books of all different colors and sizes. A chair rested in the corner, but its purpose worthless as its seat was filled with more books and papers. If there's one skill Constable Crane lacks, it's organization, I thought walking to a dark oak desk cluttered with open books, more papers, and other nameless objects scattered about. Pulling open the first drawer of the desk, my heart sank. I fumbled through files and papers, but nothing caught my eye. I had no idea what I was looking for, but I knew that finding it would be like finding a needle in a haystack, and my time was limited.

I moved on to the second drawer. Not a thought of remorse or guilt crossed my mind. Deep down, I knew what I was doing was wrong, like so many other things, but I soon learned to ignore that feeling. I discovered the truth years ago. If you play by the rules, you always lose; one way or another. And I was playing one game where losing wasn't an option.

Rummaging through the deep sea of diagrams and papers, my fingers scraped the soft, leather-bound cover of a book resting at the bottom of the drawer. Pulling the book from its resting-place, I could tell it had not been touched for at least a year, as the red leather was faded with dust. I opened it to the first page, and my heart began to beat faster as I realized that it wasn't a book I was looking at, but a ledger – Ichabod's ledger. I easily recognized the unique script of Ichabod's handwriting as I had read the note he had left with my dress countless times.

My eyes drifted to the entry date on the top of the page;

November 11, 1799

That would be two years ago come this fall. Two years ago! I began to read the following entry, my hands shaking with uncertainty.

Upon my arrival to Sleepy Hollow, I have tried to find out as many details about the murders as possible, and talking with the town elders, I can only question what kind of town have I come to. These men only have one person suspected of the murders – a deceased German Hussein Masonry who returned from his grave as a headless horseman. Apparently, this horseman randomly committed the decapitations and seized the heads of his victims, taking them back to his grave in hell. The only information I have retained from this is the question of the metal conditions of these men, or how such nonsense provoked their minds. Tomorrow I begin my investigation and will bring to justice the man responsible for the murders using my rational mind (perhaps the only one in this God-fearing town) and my modern scientific techniques and experimentations.

I stood in such a state of disbelief that I hadn't realized I had been holding my breath. Slowly, I let the air departed my lungs. Was this ledger what I had been searching for? I didn't know what lay hidden in the depths of the book, but did the pages bound between this leather hold the answers to all my questions? I was confident it did.

Tucking the ledger beneath the folds of my blanket, I stared at the third drawer debating whether or not I should open it. I already had what I was looking for, but it seemed as if a magnetic force drew my fingers to the wooden handle. My eyes widened into saucers as I heaved the final drawer open, and I gasped, stumbling backwards into one of the bookcases. My lips trembled and tears galloped from my eyes as free as wild horses when I grazed my quivering fingers over the delicate and faded petals of wildflowers. My mind flash backed to the day I had given Ichabod the flowers, and oblivious to the verity at the time, I realized now that when I placed the bouquet into his hands, I had placed my heart into his hands as well.

My fingers drifted from the flowers to a bundle of lightly folded velvet. Removing the cloth from the drawer, I could see it was blood red, the same blood red of my mother's gown. I pressed my fingers to my tear ducts, hoping to ease the flow of my salty tears, but had little success. Returning the velvet, I picked up the last object that occupied the drawer. It was a piece of paper with two black fingerprints, side by side – Ichabod's and my prints from when we were locked in that passionate and surreal moment. For an instant I felt his lips on mine and remembered that gaze in his eyes, beggaring description.

I put the paper back into the drawer, making an extra effort ensuring everything was as I had found them. Without another glance around the room, I quickly left, holding the ledger secretly under the blanket. Hurrying up to my room, I exhaled a sigh of relief as I shut the door behind me. The house was still empty, and I had succeeded in gathering the information I had wanted, or so I had hoped. I placed the ledger atop the vacant desk, but instead of sitting down and reading it as I had planned, I began to pace the length of the room pondering on the treasures I had discovered in the third drawer of Ichabod's desk.

This was going to make this very complicated, indeed. Now that I knew Ichabod possessed the feelings that I held so avidly for him, I knew that I would never be able to look him in the eye and be completely honest with him. Dear God, why does it have to be this way? I wanted to scream – explode my frustration and confusion from my body. Perhaps then I would feel better and think rationally for once.

But then I forgot why I was so aggravated and enraged. Why wasn't I delighted to determine that I wasn't a fool to fall for a man who had no interest in me? Because truth be told, Ichabod has feelings for me, intense feelings that lay locked in the chambers of his heart. "My heart of which that does not belong to me, but to the innocence of my wife," I remembered his ingenuous words to me, words that almost seemed harsh. He loved Katrina, that wasn't hard to justify, but how then, does it seem possible for him to love me? I know he does. I was certain of it, as certain as the sun would set in the west. But why was I so confused? I was so utterly confused that I felt lost in the pathways of my own mind. I was more lost than any person deserves to be.

And then I remembered Ichabod's ledger lying on my desk. What a stupid girl I was! Of course, if I wanted to understand more, I would have to learn more. By reading the ledger, I would uncover the mysterious secrets that possessed Ichabod's mind, and perhaps every other mind in Sleepy Hollow. Then I would finally be able to decide on the correct path to take, and understand possibly the most unique and perplexing man I would ever meet – Constable Ichabod Crane.