Jen and I followed the parade on foot down the main street of downtown Pemkowet, which was easy enough to do since the array of pint-size lions, witches, skeletons, zombies, and princesses moved at a snail’s pace. Ken Levitt brought up the rear in a squad car, creeping behind the procession.

At the end of the parade route, parents and children gathered on the municipal basketball court, where folding chairs on loan from the Women’s Club had been set up, and Mrs. Brophy from the library read an abridged version of “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” in a loud, theatrical voice.

Even though I knew what was coming, it was effective. There was a paved footpath that led up the hill alongside the basketball court, and when Mrs. Brophy got to the story’s climax, the Headless Horseman himself came clattering down the footpath astride a coal-black horse, looking about seven feet tall in the saddle thanks to the long, dramatic cape obscuring his entire head and torso. Children shrieked, local parents cheered—it was an annual event, and the guy who played the Horseman had a riding stable a few miles outside of town—and adult tourists shouted in excitement and reached for their cameras and phones, many of them believing it was a real apparition. Like I said, it was a badass costume.

The Headless Horseman drew rein long enough to hurl a jack-o’-lantern onto the court, smashing it against the cement, before whirling and trotting briskly back up the footpath.

Once he’d vanished, the mood broke and the crowd began to scatter, sheepish tourists putting away their cameras, realizing it had all been part of the act. Rafe, who’d circled around town to position himself across the street during the parade, roared away on his motorcycle. Stefan and I had agreed to limit the utilization of the Outcast to large public gatherings where widespread panic could prove dangerous.

At least we’d gotten through the first one without incident. I let out a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s phase one over with, anyway.”

Jen tapped the hammer hanging from her carpenter’s apron. “On to phase two?”

“Yep.”

We retrieved Jen’s convertible and drove up the hill—it’s not much of a hill, but it’s the only one we’ve got—to the main residential area of Pemkowet, parking on the street in front of the high school, where we’d have a good view of the neighborhood.

Ken Levitt pulled up alongside us. “Are the two of you going to be all right here on your own, Daisy?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We’ve got additional backup coming in a few.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ll be cruising the neighborhood up here on the hill. Cody’s doing the same over in East Pemkowet, and Bart Mallick’s making a circuit of those new developments on the outskirts. Anything happens, call dispatch.”