The Black Heart Crypt

Sheriff Ben Hargrove of the North Chester Police Department stood outside the Ickleby crypt on Haddam Hill with a cluster of Connecticut State Police officers.

They were all staring at an empty horse trailer hitched to a pickup truck.

“I can’t believe Norman Ickes would do such a thing,” said the sheriff, shaking his head.

“Would you like to look at the freeze-frame from the diner’s security camera again?” said the state police detective.

“No need,” said Hargrove. “I just never pegged Norman to be a violent criminal, waving a gun around like that.”

“This the same cemetery where you found the dead girl on Halloween?”

“Yeah,” said Hargrove. “You think there’s a connection?”

“I’m starting to. This kid, Norman—they sell hunting knives at his hardware store?”

Hargrove nodded. “Herman Ickes, Norman’s father, reported one missing last night.”

“We’ll add it to the list of charges when we nab this guy, which should be soon.” The detective gestured toward the empty trailer. “Especially if he’s on horseback. Cammie?”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Impound this vehicle and trailer. Haul them over to the crime lab.”

“On it.”

While the trooper named Cammie radioed for a tow truck, another pair of state police officers came hiking out of the woods.

“Boss?” one of them called out to the lead detective.

“What’ve you got, MacDonald?”

“This kid Ickes is good.”

“How so?”

“We tracked the horse hooves down to a creek.”

“Don’t tell me: He took the horse into the water?”

“Exactly. We don’t know which way he went. Plus, to the south, the creek splits. So …”

“Put out an all-points bulletin. I want this Norman’s photograph on the eleven o’clock news. I want his description—and the horse’s—on the radio. I want every law-abiding citizen in the state of Connecticut looking for Norman Ickes, the Hardware Clerk Crook!”