Prologue:
“I knew both children before they went into comas,”
whispered the librarian as she looked down at the two pictures on her desk.
She traced her shaky finger over
the little girl’s face, along her jaw line and down her neck. Her eyes were
black, and although they were amygdaloidal and young, they were tired. They had
the faintest lines from more than a few sleepless nights, as if some artist had
given a few too many careless pencil strokes around them. She looked forcedly
alert, yet exhausted with a sort of burdensome intelligence, and her eyebrows
were faint and flat just below her bangs. Her lips were gently pursed together beneath
her tiny nose, revealing the tension beneath the indifference she’d feigned
with the rest of her facial expression. The boy’s picture on the other hand,
was a shot of him smiling, perhaps too hard in fact. A few too many of his
teeth were showing, and his eyes were open and light-colored, although black
and white photos rarely do justice to eyes like his. The librarian remembered
them. Green. Forest green, like little twinkling emeralds. His freckles
appeared in the photo though, faintly peppering his cheeks and chin.
One of the officers leaned forward
and rested his hand over the corner of the boy’s photo. He looked ahead at the
poor little woman wracking her brain for any other memories of the children.
“This is very
important, ma’am-“
“Call me Ms.
Grey,” she said with a sad smile. The officer nodded.
“Ms. Grey. Please try to remember
them. Any information you can offer would be most appreciated.”
She looked down at the pictures and
shook her head, which made a tendril of her long silver hair fall over her
shoulder, “I remember Wendell, that’s for sure, boisterous boy. Couldn’t sit
still for a minute. I had to send him to detention on more than one occasion
for being too noisy in the library. That day though, he came in to check out a
book. An actual book! I was pleasantly surprised.”
“Which book,
Ms. Grey?”
“Hmm…something
by Hemmingway I believe…yes, the Old Man and the Sea.”
The officer glanced at his partner
who had been scribbling their conversation into a weathered notepad. The
partner stopped writing at the mention of the book’s name, and after pausing to
direct his wide eyes at the seated officer, he scribbled even more frantically.
It was obvious he was a newbie, a younger, handsome man who had heard the
legend in the area about that book.
“Thank you, Ms.
Grey,” swallowed the police officer, “That could prove very useful.”
There was a
silent pause as the old woman stared down at the girl’s picture again.
“Anything else
you can remember? Perhaps about Peregreen?”
“Peregrine. Pair-uh-grin. She made
certain I knew how to pronounce it before she left. And no…no, I can’t really
remember much. Quiet girl. Barely said a word before she checked it out.”
“Checked what
out?”
“Well, the book of course,” said
the woman.
“I thought Wendell checked it out.”
“I thought Wendell checked it out.”
“No, no,” she smiled, “Wendell wanted to check it out, but Peregrine
had already gotten to it. First to check it out in…a very long time.”
“Understandably,” said the officer,
glancing at his partner to ensure he was writing all of that down.
The librarian
continued to stare at the two young faces and she shook her head.
“I really don’t remember anything
else. They were normal children….Do you really think the book could’ve had
something to do with it?”
“It’s far too early to tell, Ms.
Grey, but we certainly aren’t ruling anything out,” said the officer, “We’ll
call you if we need any further information, alright? In the meantime, if you
remember anything else, please give us a call.”
The officer reached into his back
pocket and pulled out a small card with the police station’s phone number and
address, and his name in all-caps across the top: Officer Jeremy Rife.
“Thank you,
Officer. I will.”
“Jeremy,” he
said, smiling warmly and extending his hand to her. She grinned and shook it.
“Jeremy,” she said, picking up both
photos and tapping their edges on her desk to straighten the deck of two, “I’ll
call you if I remember anything else.”
She handed him the photos, they
said their polite adieus and the officers left the library to interview their
next suspect.
