Hemlock Bay

psychopaths.”
    Later, Savich realized while he was typing his report to Jimmy Maitland that he’d spelled “Ghouls” with a capital G. They weren’t just general entities to the Tuttles; they were specific.
    Sherlock followed Savich into the men’s room some thirty minutes later. Ollie Hamish, Savich’s second in command, was at the sink washing his hands when they came in.
    “Oh, hi, guys. Congratulations again, Savich. Great work. I just wish I could have been with you.”
    “I’m glad to see a man washing his hands,” Sherlock said, and poked him in the arm. “In a few minutes I’m going to be washing my hands, too. After I’ve beaten some sense into my husband here, the jerk. Go away, Ollie, I know you’ll want to protect him from me, and I don’t want to have to hurt both of you.”
    “Ah, Sherlock, he’s a hero. Why do you want to hurt the hero? He saved those little boys from the Warlocks and the Ghouls.”
    Savich said, “After what I told you about them, do you spell ‘Ghouls’ with a capital G in your head?”
    “Yeah, sure, you said there were two of them. It’s one of those strange things that will stay with you. You sure you weren’t smoking something, Savich? Inhaling too much stale hay?”
    “I wish I could say yes to that.”
    “Out, Ollie.”
    Once they were alone, she didn’t take a strip off him, just stepped against him and wrapped her arms around his back. “I can’t say that I’ve never been more frightened in my life, since you and I have managed to get into some bad situations.” She kissed his neck and squeezed him even tighter. “But today, at that damned barn, you were a hot dog, and I was scared spitless, as were your friends.”
    “There was no time,” he said against her curly hair. “No time to bring you in. Jesus, I scared myself, but I had no choice. And then those howling wind things were there. I honestly can’t say which scared me more—Tammy Tuttle or whatever it was she called the Ghouls.”
    She pulled back a bit. “I really don’t understand any of that. You described it all so clearly I could almost see them whirling through those barn doors. But Ghouls?”
    “That’s what the Tuttles called them. It was like they were acolytes to these things. I’d really like to say it was some sort of hallucination, that I was the only one who freaked out, but the boys saw them, too. I know it sounds off the wall, Sherlock, particularly since none of you guys saw a thing.”
    Because he needed to speak of it more, she just held him while he again described what had burst through the barn doors. Then he said, “I don’t think there’s anything more to do about this, but it was scary, Sherlock, really.”
    Jimmy Maitland walked into the men’s room.
    “Hey, where’s a man to piddle?”
    “Oh, sir, I just wanted to check Dillon out, make sure he was okay.”
    “And is he?”
    “Oh, yes.”
    “Ollie caught me in the hall on my way to the unit, Savich, said you were getting the bejesus whaled out of you in the men’s room. We’ve got a media frenzy cranking up.” Jimmy Maitland gave them a big grin. “Guess what? No one’s going to pound on us this time—only good news, thank the Lord. Great news. Since you were the one in the middle of it, Savich, we want you front and center. Of course, Louis Freeh will be there and do all the talking. They just want you to stand there and look like a hero.”
    “No mention of what we saw?”
    “No, not a word about the Ghouls, not even speculation about whirling dust. The last thing we need is to have the media go after us because we claim we were attacked by some weird balls of dust called into the barn by a couple of psychopaths. As for the boys, it doesn’t matter what they say. If the media asks us about it, we’ll just shake our heads, look distressed and sympathetic. It will be a twenty-four-hour wonder, then it’ll be over. And the FBI will be heroes. That sure feels good.”
    Savich said as he rubbed his hands up and down his wife’s back, “But there was something very strange in there, sir, something that made the hair stand up on my head.”
    “Get a grip, Savich. We’ve got the Tuttle brothers, or rather we’ve got one brother dead and one sister whose arm was just amputated at the shoulder. The last thing we need is a dose of the supernatural.”
    “You could maybe call me Mulder?”
    “Yeah, right. Hey, I just realized that Sherlock here has red hair, just like