struggle, the old man managed to get his dog past the station and almost at once the dog seemed to calm down. Looking back at me, the old man said, “So long, pretty lady. Whatever your business in The Ragged Cove is, leave as soon as you can.” Then releasing his dog, he followed it away and out of sight.
Pushing against the door of the police station one more time, I made my way back to my car. Sitting behind the wheel and strumming my fingers on the dashboard, I thought about what the old man had said. Why weren’t there any police officers on duty during the day in The Ragged Cove? Then, realising I knew very little about my colleagues, I wondered where they went, where they lived, and what they did in such a small town when not on duty.
Outside the Post Office, I noticed a public telephone box and it gave me an idea. Climbing from my car, I went to the phone box and yanked open the heavy red door. On the off chance, I lifted the receiver and wasn’t surprised to find the line was dead. But it wasn’t the telephone I wanted, it was the telephone directory. Taking it from beneath the phone, I thumbed through it until I got to the letter ‘M’. How many Murphys could there be in such a small town as this? Running my finger down the list, I couldn’t find one Murphy listed. I then looked under ‘P’ for Potter, but again there wasn’t anyone with that surname living in town. Drawing a deep breath, I turned to the letter ‘B’ and just like the others, there wasn’t anyone with the name Bishop listed either.
Stepping out of the phone box, I went into the Post Office. By the door, there was a stand that contained postcards. Taking the first one that came to hand – I really didn’t care what picture was on the front – I wrote this message.
Dear Sgt Phillips,
I believe I’m in great danger in the Ragged Cove. I don’t want to leave my post – but please come. Your help and advice urgently needed.
Kiera Hudson.
I quickly scribbled the address of Police Headquarters onto the card and bought a stamp from the postmistress. Taking it from me, she placed it into a sack that hung on the wall behind her. Leaving the Post Office, I went back to my car and drove away. As it was still early, I decided to go back to the church. I wanted to examine the open grave in daylight – I needed to know if there was anything that I’d missed and anything that might lead me to the vampires, if that’s what Kristy Hall had really transformed into. Not only that, I wanted to have my facts straight for when I returned for my nightshift. I suspected that Sergeant Murphy would want a full account of what had happened.
Following the winding roads out of town, I managed to find my way back to the church. Parking just down the road from the front gate that led into the graveyard, I climbed from the car. The day had turned bitterly cold, and I thrust my hands into my coat pockets. My fingers brushed against the bottle of holy water and the crucifix and I hoped I wouldn’t have to use them again so soon.
As I approached the wall circling the graveyard, I could see flecks of white paint where I’d crashed the car. The gate wailed on its rusty hinges as I made my way into the graveyard. I weaved through the gravestones and although it was day, it took nothing away from the creepiness of the place. As I made my way deeper into the graveyard and towards the overhang of the trees in the corner, I could see two people standing by the desecrated grave that I’d climbed into the night before.
Crouching, I ducked behind a gravestone and peered into the distance. One of them was the priest, Father Taylor, and the other I couldn’t quite see. Darting from my cover, I raced towards another gravestone and snuck behind it. From here, I had a better view of the second person. Looking at them, my stomach began to knot and my mouth turned dry, realising Father Taylor was deep in conversation with the hooded man who’d been following me and leaving crucifixes outside my bedroom door. Shifting my position behind the grave, I strained to see