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Rick breathed out and rubbed one hand over his face.
O’Shea joined us. “Before anybody goes anywhere, I need to know how Bellamy reached the back of these structures without crossing the staffed gates.”
Rick looked beyond the floodlight toward the darker edge of the working farm. His expression changed slowly as he followed the line behind the set.
“There’s an old maintenance approach back there,” he said. “It comes around behind the vegetable fields and feeds into this strip from the far side. We barely use it anymore except when equipment has to get behind the structures before the season opens.”
Sybil turned toward him. “I’ve never used that.”
“You wouldn’t have. Your event access comes from production and the marked service lanes. That approach predates the current attraction layout.”
I studied the darkness beyond the set. From Sybil’s routes, it would have looked like more farm ground beyond the operational perimeter. Grant had worked effects and safety here before her current redesign. He would have known where the older farm access came through.
O’Shea called the nearest deputy over and told him to hold the area until they could look at the approach. Rick listened, then pointed toward two farm workers waiting farther away.
“As soon as your people release it, I’ll block the connection from our side. We can get a tractor and barrier sections across it tonight if we need to. Tomorrow I’ll make it permanent.”
“Wait until I tell you we’re finished with it,” O’Shea said. “After that, close it.”
Rick nodded. “Done.”
He looked toward the attraction, where the floodlights now reached across several empty guest corridors. No music covered the wind. No performers waited behind scenery. Without guests, every trick was visible from the wrong angle.
“We’re shut down,” Rick said. “Everybody who isn’t needed for the investigation is going home. I’ll deal with the carrier and the rest of it in daylight.”
Sybil’s gaze moved toward the dark corn. “You’re closing Sunday too?”
“I’m not making that decision tonight, and neither are you.” Rick’s voice softened before she could argue. “Whatever happens with the schedule, I want you back when we can operate safely. I mean that, Sybil. Bellamy doesn’t get to turn this into the end of your work here.”
She went very still.
Rick gestured toward the rear exit behind us. “You rebuilt that section. Tonight you knew your route better than he did, and it got you where you needed to go. When Hollowfield is ready to open again, I want the person who designed it running it.”
Sybil looked down for a moment at the bandage covering her palm. When she raised her head, some of the strain in her face had eased.
“Good,” she said. “Because I’m not finished with it.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
O’Shea needed both of us for another round of questions after that. We moved to the farm office, where somebody had left a pot of coffee burning down to something too strong even for me. Sybil sat across from the sheriff at the scarred table where we had spent half the weekend arguing over maps and suspects. This time she walked him through Grant’s words during the pursuit, slowing when she needed to make sure she had the sequence right.
I listened.
By the time she finished, I knew the exact words Grant had used while I was running the outside route. O’Shea asked careful questions without suggesting answers, and Sybil corrected him twice when his wording went beyond what Grant had actually said.
The mallet was collected before we left. Nobody in the office claimed to know what testing would show.
It was after three when O’Shea finally released us.
The wind had strengthened while we were inside. It moved through the empty corn and rattled dried leaves against the temporary barriers as I walked Sybil to the SUV. She paused once beside the passenger door and looked back at Hollowfield.
Most of the lights were off again.
“I spent months trying to make that place scary,” she said. “I’m going to be annoyed if it takes me a while to enjoy that.”
“You’re allowed to be annoyed.”
“That’s generous of you.”
