Malcolm stared at him, wanting one of his cigarettes. “You can’t think we did all that.”
Detective Hope took a puff, exhaled. “Of course I don’t. AndI’ll take it a step further. I finally spoke to your friend Paxson Keates back in Elkhart, and he confirms the death of your mother, the way he prepared her body, and that he put you on that train himself.”
He pointed at Jennie with his cigarette. “Mr. Keates seemed a bit confused about you, Miss Wise, but I’m not gonna quibble about that.”
“So you’re going to let us go?” Jennie asked before Malcolm could get the question out.
Detective Hope puffed again, the tip of his cigarette flaring. Whatever comfort he wanted from smoking, the expression on his face said he wasn’t getting it.
“I’m going to let you out,” he replied, “but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go. On behalf of several police departments, this one included, and the state attorney general, I’m officially requesting that you remain local for several days.”
Malcolm smiled, not trying to pretend he was telling the truth. “We’d be delighted.”
The detective sniffed. He didn’t like it, but he dug into his pocket for the keys to the cells.
“No,” Jennie said.
Malcolm shot her a look. “No?”
But Jennie’s focus was on Hope. “In the dark and the rain, it was hard to tell what was happening to the other passengers. There were… things there, animals maybe, attacking people. But there was also at least one man helping in the killing. A tall Irish-looking guy, orange hair, bushy beard.”
Malcolm’s guts turned to ice. “Jennie!”
His sister glared at him. “Am I lying?”
Detective Hope knew something weird was going on between them, but his confusion looked genuine. “Isshe lying?”
Malcolm wanted to shout at her, but he knew what she was doing. If Alfie and Benjy were still outside waiting, she wanted to clear them out of the way so she and Malcolm could get Maggie’s remains and start north without having to fight their way out ofCrowson. He wished he had an argument, but despite all he’d said about wanting to save Alfie and the kid, they would need that time, and not just to get the body and steal another car. They needed to find Violet.
“There’s no hotel here in town, but you can always stay in Springfield,” Detective Hope said.
“What about our mother?” Malcolm asked.
The detective blinked. “Hadn’t thought much about that. The body’s in a cooler right now. I guess the funeral home would be willing to keep her there until you’re able to carry on to wherever you were gonna lay her to rest.”
Jennie didn’t smile. “That’s fine, Detective, but I’m pretty hungry, so if you don’t mind…”
Detective Hope put the key into the cell door’s lock.
From the back of the police station came the sound of wood breaking. Voices shouted in alarm. Cops called to each other, then started barking orders.Stay back. On your knees. You will be shot.
A single loud gunshot.
“Hurry!” Jennie snapped at Detective Hope, but he seemed almost to have forgotten his prisoners were even there.
The detective shouted for someone to stay back. He reached for his gun, but too slowly. Benjy hurtled down the hallway, smashing into the detective’s chest hard enough to knock him over. The gun flew from Hope’s fingers, hit the floor, and spun away. The boy grabbed Hope by the ears and slammed his head down once, and then again. Malcolm saw the detective’s eyes roll back to white.
Jennie reached through the bars. Hope had left his key in the lock. She turned it. Malcolm heard the click and Jennie burst from the jail cell, the door swinging open with such force it struck the boy and knocked him off his feet. The key popped out, skittering across the floor.
Malcolm followed his sister. He lunged for the gun, scooped it up, and turned on one knee to aim in the direction from whichthe boy had come. Cops were still shouting. More gunshots rang out. He glanced over at Jennie to see that she’d pinned the boy between the bars of the cell and the bars of the open cell door. Benjy thrust his arms through, grabbed fistfuls of her hair, and tried to yank her head against the bars. Jennie resisted, barely. He was so much stronger than he should have been.
The boy grabbed at Jennie’s face, jabbed fingers in her eyes. She cried out and staggered backward, and the kid swung the gate back toward her.
Shouting his sister’s name, Malcolm plowed into her from behind, driving her forward and crunching the boy against the bars. Jennie recovered, angrier now, and joined him in holding the boy trapped there.
Malcolm stepped back and took aim at the boy, finger on the trigger.
Jennie looked at him in shock. Malcolm hesitated. This kid wasn’t a vampire. They had no way of knowing if he could be made whole again, but he was still alive, just a puppet. Malcolm couldn’t kill him.
