I drove back to Cold Hollow feeling calmer than I had when I left for Millicent’s. I still had questions, lots of questions, but my fears of going insane had subsided. As I drove down Main Street, I noticed Owen’s black pickup in the parking lot of the Drift. Not again, I thought. I couldn’t believe he was already drinking after how hard we both went last night. Maybe it was out of worry or curiosity, or just a need to share with him what I had seen at Misty’s apartment the night before caused me to stop.

As usual, the Drift smelled of stale beer, cigarette smoke and wet pine. No one sat at the bar and the only patron was an elderly man sitting at a booth in the back.

“Hey Rio,” I gave my favorite bartender the sweetest grin I could muster considering that I was still a bit rattled from my experience at Millicent’s. “Do you know where Owen is? His truck is out front, but––”

“Had to drive him home…again,” she said. “Boy needs a babysitter.”

I laughed, but there was no humor in what she said. What the hell was Owen up to? Why was he so hellbent on getting plastered day after day?

“Listen, Rio, do you know his address? I think I’m going to go check on him.”

She looked at me suspiciously, as if to say she doesn’t give out addresses, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she grabbed a cocktail napkin and pen tucked beside the register and wrote down an address.

“Thanks, Rio,” I said. “You’re a sweetheart.”

She replied with what sounded like a growl, but I think it was supposed to mean “you’re welcome.”

I swiped the napkin with the address and dashed back out to my car. As I drove, I mumbled Rio’s directions out loud as I looked for street signs, but Vermonters are notorious for leaving their roads unlabeled. It was one of the many subtle ways they let outsiders know they were unwanted and unwelcome.

Finally, I found Owen’s house. It was an old craftsman with a slightly overgrown lawn and a busted mailbox that looked like it had been frequently attacked with a baseball bat. Another favorite pastime among the locals.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no movement inside. I could see a couple of lamps on in the living room and assumed he was probably passed out in the bedroom. It was clear the detective was going through something emotionally. Maybe it was my conscience or maybe it was that unforgiving curiosity that drove me, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave him to suffer alone, even if he was asleep.

I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. It made a loud screeching noise as I pulled it open. Damn it, Owen, I thought. You gotta take care of yourself better.

“Owen?” I called out into the dimly lit house. The hardwood floor looked dusty and scratched in many places.

Slowly, I took a few steps forward, then heard shuffling ahead of me, off into the kitchen on the left. Before I knew what was happening, I realized I was looking down the barrel of a gun.

“Owen, it’s me. It’s Kelly––hey, hey, hey! Jesus, Owen, put it down it’s me! It’s me!”

He blinked as if he didn’t believe his own bloodshot eyes. His face was unshaven stubble and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Slowly, he lowered the gun but kept his index finger around the trigger.

 “Jesus, Kelly,” he said and wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“Owen, fuck, you scared the hell out of me,” I said, putting a hand to my heart. “What the hell are you doing? Rio said you had to be driven home from the Drift again. Are you okay?”

He stumbled a little as he brushed past me into the living room.

“I’m fine. Go home,” he said with a grunt and dropped heavily onto an armchair and pressed his face into his hands.

I followed him. It could have been a really nice home with some new furniture and a few repairs. But right now it felt stale and sunken, like a broken house being pulled into a sinkhole.

“I’m glad to hear that you feel fine, but I have to say, you look like a mess.”

“Thanks,” he said as he rooted around in his chair for something.

I sat down on the couch next to him and relaxed a bit now that the gun was in his lap.

“You were wasted last night, man. I can’t believe you went back to the Drift today. You want to tell me what this whole drinking yourself into oblivion thing is all about?”

“Jesus, Kelly…Kelly Kane. You really are a reporter aren’t you? Always got a hundred questions? I got fired, if you must know.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

“You got…Owen, you got fired? Oh, my god.” My heart ached for him. Clearly, he was taking it hard. “What happened?”

He finally took his hands off his face. I could tell he was still fairly drunk, but he was at least coherent enough to have a conversation. “Few days ago, my Captain told me to back off McClinton and move on from the murder case,” he dragged his hands down his cheeks again, pulling his eyelids low, and sighed. “That’s why I told you to do the same. But, just like you, I didn’t listen and kept working on it. Captain called me into his office this morning and told me he’d accept my resignation.”

I frowned as I listened along, but I didn’t get it.

“Wait, she wasmurdered… And they don’t want to know what happened?” I asked, then it occurred to me that I was being naïve. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to know what happened, it was that they already knew exactly what happened and they didn’t want anyone else to find out.

“I told the Captain that I wouldn’t resign. So, he tells me–that son of a bitch–he tells me the State Attorney is preparing a misconduct case against me and, if I didn’t resign, I was going to get charged.”

It was clear that someone outside the police department was pulling the strings, but I didn’t ask. Instead, I decided to just listen as Owen was more talkative than I’d ever known him to be.

“I kept on working the case ‘cause I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t just leave it unsolved when all the answers were right there in front of us!” He slammed his fist down onto his thigh. “About an hour after I told the Captain where he could shove my resignation, he and that shitass LeVey, the Deputy State’s Attorney, came to my office and started talking to me about the benefits of the resignation, the pension, the honors, leaving with distinction.” He laughed a deep belly-laugh. “That little fucker had the gall to suggest I start doing P.I. work or become a process server.”

“I assume you didn’t say, ‘What a great idea’?” I asked.

Owen laughed again. “Goddamned right I didn’t. I told them to get fucked.”

I laughed a little, despite myself.

“Captain said my only other option was that I be terminated for misconduct and LeVey chimed in saying ‘and other offenses we’ve all ignored for years,’ whatever the fuck that meant. LeVey, that little turd, he had the nerve to say I used to be a good cop. Used to be, before my... Before...” Owen’s face shriveled a little. I could see he was trying desperately to hold something back, something that needed to be let out, but he bit his lip before he finished. “Before my son died,” he said.

Owen got up from the armchair then and his gun clattered to the floor. I instinctively brought my feet up off the ground and tried to shrink away from it as he reached down and swiped it up. He paced furiously back and forth between the short length of the living room to the kitchen. “He fucking said––he fucking said I was a failure as a father. That I––I didn’t do enough! And suggested that my boy might still be alive if–! If I–!” He slammed his fist into the wall and a smattering of plaster fell to the ground as Owen let out some of the pent-up frustration.

I had never been around this kind of violent male energy before and it frightened me to be in such close proximity. I had grown fond of Owen during my time in Cold Hollow, but I wondered, as I shrank back into his couch, whether I had any business getting involved in this man’s life.

“I hit him,” Owen said, looking like a wild animal as he paced about. “He could have thrown an assault charge on me, but LeVey agreed to let it go if the Captain fired me on the spot.”

“Owen,” I whispered, but no words followed. “I’m so sorry.”

He finally placed the gun down on the kitchen counter and leaned against the laminate. He was red and flush as he pretended to scratch his face, but I could see he was wiping away a tear. “I’m losing it, Kelly,” he said.

I looked down at my feet, knowing all too well what that feeling was like, but not quite sure what I could say to comfort him.

“No, Owen. You’re just the victim of a corrupt system,” I said with a slight stutter. “Those bastards are clearly in the pocket of some powerful people.”

He began shaking his head like a stubborn child. “You’re not wrong, Kelly, but that’s not what I mean. I–I saw something.”

I felt a chill course through the air. For a cop who had seen a lot, I was surprised to hear what I can only describe as profound fear in his words.

“What do you mean? What did you see?”

He sighed and tried to regain his composure then looked at me as if to say, you don’t really want to know.

“It’s okay, Owen,” I said in the most comforting tone I could. “You can tell me.”

“Last night, after I got home, there was this-this woman. She came in, but I didn’t hear the door or anything. She wasn’t a normal woman. She was like a-a demon or something, Kelly. She told me her name and, when she said it, I felt something inside me wretch. Granted, I was a little drunk, but I remember her so... so clearly...”

“What was her name?” I asked him, but he didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t hear me, or maybe he was afraid to say it out loud.

He walked over to the wall adjacent to the entryway and traced his fingers over a small hole. A bullet hole, I realized. “I thought she was breaking in, so I grabbed my gun and I shot her. But she didn’t–she wasn’t hurt. It just went right through her.”

Owen had hallucinated, I realized. Just as I thought I had last night at Misty’s apartment.

“She told me that she was there because she could see I was on the edge of an abyss, looking in, wondering what’s at the bottom.” He laughed, again, that bitter, disgusted laugh that seemed aimed at himself. “I was just fucking seeing things! So, that’s what I meant when I said I’m losing it, Kelly.”

“Owen, you aren’t the only one who's been seeing weird shit, okay? You’re not going crazy. Something... something is happening,” I said.

“Oh, yeah?” He chuckled, goading me on. “What? Did you get a visit from my new best friend, the demon woman, too?”

“Last night, at Misty’s apartment…” I said as I rose from the couch and made my way closer to him. “You were passed out in the front seat of my car. I got out and went up to the window to get a closer look at Misty and Sivene and I saw–” I paused. It was still hard to get the words out. “I saw Sivene change. She looked like a monster. Like-like, well, what I imagine a werewolf or what the fuck ever. Misty had her restrained to the bed and she changed right in front of my eyes, Owen. I swear it.”

He squinted at me from across the kitchen, suddenly empty of snide remarks. I felt him searching my face as if trying to decide if I was messing with him.

“I went back to Millicent today–she’s a seer or a witch or something–and she gave me this tea and it gave me a vision. Something is happening, Owen, and we need to figure out what it is! The whole thing with Nicole and Sivene and Misty and the Senator––someone is trying to keep us from the truth, but I have this feeling…Something terrible is about to happen.”

Owen continued staring at me. I had his full attention and was hopeful that this would be a turning point for us. That Owen would finally realize we had to work together to find out what happened to Nicole before it happened to someone else.

He began to laugh, slowly at first, then with gusto. “Okay, Kelly Kane,” he said, turning away from me and opening up the fridge. “I guess we’ve both lost our goddamn minds, haven’t we?” He pulled out two beers, put one down in front of me, and cracked the top of the other. “Let’s drink to demons and werewolves and losing our minds together.”

“What?” I asked, confused but also a little angry. “Owen, no. Whatever is happening to us, it’s real! There are forces at work here that we don’t understand! I need your help. We need each other to––”

“Kelly,” he said, and looked deep into my eyes. “I certainly don’t need anything from you.” And with that he disappeared down the hall with his beer in hand. “What the fuck am I doing in this loony bin?” he shouted from his bedroom just before he slammed the door slam shut. I should have pursued him, but I was upset. I felt betrayed by his laughter.

By the time I got back into my car, I was fuming. How could he have done this to me? We were so close to finding out the truth. We had come so far. I couldn’t understand why he was abandoning me and the case, especially now that I knew the truth about Sivene. I was mad at Owen for leaving me, but a lot of that anger was fear. I was terrified of going on without him.

 “Damn it, Owen,” I shouted and thumped the steering wheel with my hands. I knew that moving forward with the story would mean putting my life at risk, but if the police weren’t going to handle it, if Owen wanted nothing to do with it, and Nicole’s killer still walked the streets, then I was the only one left and I would show them all. I would find Nicole’s killer and expose Sivene for what she really was, even if it killed me.