Decisions

"Sonofafuck!" Sheriff Mitchell howled.  His service revolver clattered against the door.  It fired, and the sheriff sank to the ground, clutching his abdomen with his unscathed arm as he cursed.

Grace marched toward the sheriff, her rifle trained on him.  Jane's whimpers in the background melded with the howl of the wind, as though the forest itself was mourning along with her.  The pitiful sounds set Grace's veins alight, white hot rage fueling her feet forward.

The sheriff fumbled across the grass, his fingers arching toward the glint of silver peeking out between the crumpled blades.  Grace kicked the gun aside, away from his reach.

It was the sheriff's turn to hold up a hand.  Such a pathetic, useless gesture, Grace almost felt sorry for him.  But she thought of Jane, reduced to that helpless position, and her anger rose once more, vanquishing any softer emotions.

"Look, Grace, I ..." Sheriff Mitchell started.

"Give me the key," Grace said.

"Come on ..."

Grace tightened her grasp on her gun.  "Give me the fucking key.  Now."

The sheriff's shaky hand dipped into his pocket.  He pulled out a ring of keys.

"Set them on the ground."

The sheriff did as Grace said.  Grace kept her gun aimed at him.  He was waiting for her to let her guard down, and she would not give him that.

"Jane?  Can you help me for a sec?"

The swish of grass reached Grace's ears.  A moment later, a figure appeared in Grace's periphery.

"I need you to take the keys, okay?"

Jane's hand swept down, scooping up the keys.

"Look, Grace, I can get you money," Sheriff Mitchell said.  "Enough so you'll be set for life.  You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"You think I'd turn my back on a friend for money?"

"Okay, what is it you want?  Anything you want, I can make it happen.  These woods, you see, they're special.  And I've found the key."

An image of Sophie twirling, sun drawing golden highlights in her auburn hair, flashed in Grace's mind.  It was soon supplanted by a small wooden casket, a too bright bouquet draped across the closed lid.

"Your sister?  I can bring her back.  No problem."

How did the sheriff know about Sophie?  Her family had moved to Fair River to put that chapter of their life behind.

"Don't listen to him," Jane said.  "Even if he can bring her back, she won't be the same."

Laughter, high and bright, echoed through the woods.  Sophie's laughter.

"What was that?" Jane said.

The shadow of a small girl appeared at the edge of the treeline.  Tears pooled in Grace's eyes.  A cold, hard sensation landed in her stomach as a chill swept down the spine.  Sophie would be fifteen now, if she was alive.  With that, the shadow stretched taller, her shoulders broadening.

"The woods know everything," Sheriff Mitchell said.  "Do as I say, and you'll have your sister by your side in no time."

"Shut up," Grace said.  "Jane, open the door."

Metal scraped against metal.  Hinges squealed as Jane hefted the doors open.  Warm yellow light rose up through the opening, cutting deep, ghastly shadows into the sheriff's face.  He looked villainous, the lines of his face heavy, as though drawn there by a cartoonist's hand.

Jane gasped.