The Second Mark

Miller didn't release her, but he didn't book her either. He left her in the cell and went to his office.

Two hours later, the dispatch radio crackled.

"Sheriff? We got a 10-70 at the Mayor’s residence. Fire. Structure is fully involved."

Miller ran out. He didn't come back until dawn.

When he returned, he looked ten years older. He was covered in soot. He walked to the cell and unlocked the door.

"Get up," he said.

He led her to his office and pushed a cup of coffee into her hands.

"Mayor Stevenson is dead," Miller said, lighting a cigarette with a shaking hand. " trapped in his bedroom. The fire marshal says it was arson. Accelerant poured under the door."

Cassie looked down at her coffee. "Did you see it?" Miller asked.

"No," Cassie said. "I didn't see him. I only see people I’m near. I haven't seen the Mayor in months."

Miller sat heavily behind his desk. "Henderson. Stevenson. And you think I'm next."

"I know you are."

"Why us?" Miller asked, looking at a board on his wall. "A teacher. A mayor. A sheriff. What's the connection?"

"You tell me," Cassie said. "You're the cop."

Miller looked at the files on his desk. He started pulling them open. "Henderson was on the school board. Stevenson was... well, the Mayor. I've been Sheriff for twelve years. Before that I was a deputy."

He stopped. His eyes went wide.

He pulled a dusty box from under his desk. It was labeled *CLOSED CASES: 2014*.

He flipped through it. He pulled out a photo of a jury.

"Ten years ago," Miller whispered. "The trial of Elias Vane."

Cassie shivered. The name felt like ice water in her veins. "Who is Elias Vane?"

"He was a foreman at the Old Sawmill," Miller said. "Accused of murdering three migrant workers. He swore he was innocent. Said he was framed by the town council to cover up safety violations. The evidence was... circumstantial. But the pressure to close the case was high."

Miller pointed to the photo. "Henderson was the Jury Foreman. Stevenson was on the jury. I was the arresting officer."

"And he was convicted?"

"Life without parole," Miller said. "He died in Blackgate Prison three weeks ago. Liver failure."

"He's dead?" Cassie asked. "Then how..."

"He swore he’d come back," Miller said, his voice trembling. "When they dragged him out of the courtroom. He looked at me, and he looked at the jury box. He said, *'I will bury you all. I will take your breath, your homes, and your minds.'*"

Miller looked at Cassie. "Henderson lost his breath. Stevenson lost his home."

"And you're going to lose your mind," Cassie whispered. "Or your head."