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EIGHT

Hollbrook Residence
Willow, Connecticut
Saturday, October 7, 2006
10:06 AM

The drive north up the 91 had been quiet underneath the sounds of the XM radio station carrying throughout the car as Taylor directed them back toward Willow. As The Postal Service's album played in its entirety during the trip, with Amy nodding slowly to the songs as she watched trees and other vehicles pass by them on the freeway, Taylor had remained silent, as though focusing on the upcoming task.

By the time the silver Lexus pulled into the driveway of David and Natalie Hollbrook's Colonial-style home, Amy could tell that her friend had slipped into some sort of mode, as if her sole thought was honed in on getting in and out of the house as quickly as possible. During the trip, Taylor had slowly become geared for what they were about to do, keeping quiet as she rolled her shoulders back and stared straight ahead. Though Amy didn't agree with the plan, and definitely still had qualms about breaking into someone's house, she was at least glad Taylor was looking at the task at hand objectively and professionally. However, that didn't do much to calm Amy's fear of getting caught, especially since the Hollbrook's place was situated in the middle of a street where kids were playing out in the road. Any of them were likely to run inside and tell their parents that something odd was going on at the house in the dead center of the lane, and that would mean it was only a matter of time before the police were called. Unfortunately, if Taylor was right in saying that they needed to check out Natalie's room in order to return the missing children to their respectful homes, both of them sharing the feeling that neither abducted child had been killed, then they had no choice but to do something that was likely to get them thrown in jail.

Glancing around quickly, though trying not to look suspicious, Amy saw that the youngsters they had passed only moments before were consumed in a game of tag in the middle of the street, taking their attention off of the two girls who had pulled into David Hollbrook's driveway. Taking the opportunity of their distraction, Taylor nodded solemnly at her friend, as though to give a signal that was never discussed. Playing it by ear, Amy watched as Taylor rounded to the fence leading to the backyard, frowning a little as the other girl yanked open the gate without having to do much else except tug on the string. Disappearing a second later, Amy bunched her jaw and headed to the door, pretending to be nothing but a visitor. Waiting a moment, in order to give Taylor time to pick the lock or break the window or whatever she was doing, Amy reached forward to ring the bell, the front door swinging wide after a minute's pause to reveal her friend.

Sighing quietly, Amy entered the house and noticed that the inside blinds had all been shut, either by Taylor's doing or someone else. Closing them off from the rest of the world, Amy waited for the other girl to join her as they stood in the foyer, looking around at the surrounding space. The walls were painted a violent orange that seemed to offset the white couch, the living room around them the unkemptness that signaled a single man but with the hint of a kid sprinkled throughout. As crayons lay on a workstation near the kitchen table and toys lay in pockets of the room, Amy could pick up clues from what was strewn about, parts of the house looking more untidy than others. It was clear that the place had been picked over by the police, judging by the way pillows from the sofa had been tossed onto the floor and books on the nearby shelves were pulled out from their dusty rows. Embedded in the white carpet that seemed to sit only in the living room, three sets of black footprints carried from the front door to the back, as though someone who had stomped through oil hadn't taken the time to clean off the bottom of their shoes.

Following the line of footsteps with her eyes, Amy saw that each set dispersed at a certain point—one heading toward the kitchen sitting next to the back door, one heading for the stairs, and another leading outside. Glancing at Taylor as though looking for their next move, the girl remained silent and nodded to the kitchen, holding her finger up to her lips to signal that they keep quiet. Irked by the suggestion, and wondering if her friend was under the impression that the thing that had taken both Molly Walter and Natalie Hollbrook was still somewhere in the house, Amy furrowed her brow before starting for the direction Taylor had indicated, noticing that the other girl was heading up the stairs.

Nearing a small yellow table that was situated in the corner beside a large oak counter, Amy walked carefully, making sure not to step on anything that might tamper with evidence or give hint that someone had been inside the house after the police had left. As she picked up a few drawings sitting at the small station, finding them to be rough sketches of princesses and unicorns, her senses began to pick up, kicking into a gear much like the adrenaline overdrive she had experienced while dealing with the demon last month, a sensation that kept coming and going as it pleased. Feeling her knees turn to jelly and her hands become unsteady, Amy felt something new began to surge within the rest of the burst, as though her head was suddenly rushing with blood. A moment later and Amy could feel drops begin to trickle out of her nose, red drips hitting the tile floor underfoot. Swallowing hard, Amy shoved her hand up to stop the sudden oozing of scarlet, reaching blindly for a paper towel.

"Amy!" Taylor's voice yelped from upstairs, sounding surprised. "We're in trouble."

Swallowing hard as she eased her head back down from the upward position she had been holding it, Amy looked around just as Taylor raced for the bottom of the stairs, grabbing her friend's hand with one swift motion and pulling her toward the door to the garage beside the kitchen. Unfortunately, before they could get any farther than a few steps, the front entrance of the house was kicked open to reveal two police officers rushing toward them, neither giving pause as they shoved both girls into the wall beside the refrigerator. Smearing blood from her nose onto the orange-colored sheetrock, Amy's heart stopped as the cold metal of handcuffs met her wrists, her eyes darting toward Taylor as her friend was also placed under arrest.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?" a harsh-sounding police officer barked as he finished cuffing Amy.

"Y-yes," Amy stammered, looking at Taylor as the other girl mirrored her statement.

Swallowing hard as a pair of calloused hands grabbed her arm, Amy allowed herself to be steered away from the place she had been shoved against, her breathing heavy as a panic began to set in. She knew this was a bad idea, she knew following Taylor into such a stupid situation was going to end in the worst way, but she had done it against her instinct, choosing to let her friend make the decision instead of listening to herself. Now both of them were screwed, and were either going to have to come up with a reasonable explanation or face the consequences that came with what they had done.

As her jelly legs began to worsen while she walked to the police cruiser parked outside, Amy glanced back at Taylor, finding that her friend seemed more suspicious of the officers handling them than she was scared. Silently wondering what that was about as she was ducked into the back of the squad car, Amy kept her mouth shut as she moved over to make room for her friend, unable to feel the chilly leather seats under her but knowing they were there. Everything around her was numb as her mind raced, trying to think of a way out of their predicament that would save them from having to be locked up.

Coming up with nothing as the vehicle pulled away from the curb, Amy rolled her head back as Taylor sent her a worried glance, the sight of blood on her friend's face seeming to alarm her more than the fact that they had just been arrested. Silently questioning her with a furrowed brow, Taylor leaned forward to whisper in Amy's ear, only to get reprimanded by the officer driving them to the nearby police station.

"You better make sure what you say is worth it."

Snapping back into place, Taylor remained on her side of the car while Amy took in the appearance of the cops who had busted them. The driver was tall with a mass of black hair and the beginnings of a mustache, his eyes reflecting back in the rearview mirror as a harsh blue that reminded her of the carpet in one of the many motels she had stayed at with John during the summer—the attempt at an ocean décor in a place far off from the sea, the shack-like lodging in Grover Ridge, Arkansas. His partner beside him was stout and round, his face hardened into a look of irritation underneath his thinning blonde hair. From where she sat, Amy could see a stub nose and a bulging gaze, the stare fixed straight ahead as though to keep his thoughts pointed on their destination.

By the time the cruiser pulled into the gravel lot of the police station, Amy was both uneasy from her hands being clasped behind her back and from the sensation running up and down her thighs. For some reason, out of the two different discomforts, she would rather choose that the latter disappear, the instability of her legs proving more harrowing than the metal locked around her wrists. As the officers stopped to get out and haul them inside, Amy began to trip over her feet, causing the taller policeman to eye her suspiciously, clearly curious as to whether she was in her right mind or on drugs. Immediately taking her into a back room colored a dull gray while the shorter officer reached into her pockets to remove her personal items, Amy was guided into what appeared to be an interrogation room, dropped into a chair beside Taylor as the two men roughly handled her. While the cops stood back to allow another one to enter, a man of medium build and gray hair that she could see reflected in the two-way mirror in front of them, Amy took the chance to look at herself, noticing that most of her face was covered in blood, making it seem as though she had gotten into some sort of fight beforehand.

However, before she could focus on her appearance, the door behind them slammed shut to leave the two girls alone in the room with the older officer, an expression on his face of clear aggravation as he took a seat in the chair across from them. Leaning against the metal table separating the trio, the man tapped his fingers absently against it, looking from Taylor to Amy with a hint of disgust.

"So Honey West and Pandora Fox have come to Willow," the policeman said, a sardonic smirk plastered on his lips. "It was only a matter of time before I got at least one of you poking around town."

"I don't…" Amy trailed off, suddenly confused. "We're just—"

"Trying to interrupt our town traditions?" the man barked, getting up from his chair fast enough to knock it over. "Don't you think we've been doing this long enough to know when a couple of you Hunters would roll on in? Are you all really as stupid as you look or is that just a selective group?"

Eyes widening, Amy glanced at Taylor, wondering if her friend was picking up any meaning to the officer's words. Finding the other girl just as confused, and slightly more surprised, Amy turned back to the man as he pushed against the table hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

"You'll stay here, in lockup, until we're finished. Then we'll see what to do with you."

Furrowing her brow as the officer rounded to the door, Amy swallowed hard while the previous policemen returned, tugging the two from their seats and directing them back toward the front of the precinct and past a pair of swinging doors. Heading through them, Amy gasped as the sight of jail cells appeared under the automatic lights that illuminated brighter with each step, ones that clearly hadn't been used in quite some time. Shoving them both into separate confinements before uncuffing them both, the officers pulled the sliding doors tightly shut and locked them, leaving the swinging entrance wide open as though to give them a view of what was happening out in the lobby.

Still unable to stand firmly on the ground, despite the anxiety that was slowly replacing the rush of adrenaline that had come in David Hollbrook's kitchen, Amy took a seat on the bench-slash-bed that was positioned against the wall, shutting her eyes for a moment as though hoping to open them and find herself back a Yale. Taking a deep breath while the sound of Taylor's shoes echoed against the cement floor, Amy tried to make sense of everything, especially the older officer's words. What the hell did he mean by "interrupting town traditions"? Was there something going on in Willow that Amy didn't understand and had stepped right into?

Seeming to pick up on that thought from her own cell, Taylor paced as she spoke. "That was weird, wasn't it? It's like he's hiding something. I think they've been watching us ever since we arrived here. Maybe that's why Hollbrook changed his story at Arkham. Maybe the police put some pressure on him, or maybe they convinced him he was crazy."

Opening her eyes, Amy shook her head, wanting to think of nothing more than getting out of the police station unscathed. Though her mind wouldn't shut off the thought of what the cop had said, they had more pressing matters at hand, meaning that that was about to be put on the backburner for now—or for good.

"We need to call somebody," Amy muttered after a long moment. "A lawyer."

"Isn't your dad a lawyer?" Taylor asked. "Call him and ask him to come."

"No, my dad, he…"

Shuddering at the idea of phoning Joel Forester to have him fly to Willow, Connecticut to pick up his daughter from jail, Amy frowned, marking it as a last resort. While she knew Joel would undoubtedly understand, especially if she explained the situation correctly, and would probably go to bat for her in court, she couldn't muster the courage to call him and ask the man to bail her out. Rolling her shoulders back, Amy let silence fall for a moment as she thought, trying to come up with a solution that would keep the occurrence between them as well as allow them to exit free of charge.

Pursing her lips as she looked up to glance around the lobby of the precinct, Amy took in the five officers milling around the front desk, noting that at least three of them were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the view of the southwest wall of the building. Narrowing her eyes as she watched them, and feeling a strange tingle in her gut, Amy glued her stare onto them for a moment before the middle of the three moved to reveal the familiar bulk of man dressed in a black wool coat with dark hair and eyes, the bottom half of his face covered with a salt-and-pepper beard that made him look even more distressed than he was. Swallowing hard, Amy got to her feet and neared the bars of the cell, grasping onto the cold metal as she tried to get her bearings.

"…He's right here."