The Grimm Dossier

Chapter 32 - The Hermit

England, West Coast
Devonshire, Dartmoor
St. George, house of the Jäger family
5 November 1898, 3:48 pm

Clearly, they needed to get to the bottom of these things more deeply and for Kyle, it was important to see the old lady's reaction. He wanted to hear it from her mouth because always two sides had their own truth. What was 'good' and what was 'bad' usually simply depended on one's point of view? And which side you were on?

The old lady leaned back in the chair and rested her hands on her lap. Dr. Archer saw her rubbing her palm with her thumb. Her chest rose and fell slowly as a heavy rock settled on it. Grief and loss of a beloved child or loved one. This pain could numb reason and ignite a devastating fire of revenge. Could this woman be a depraved soul who was responsible for all this? Blinded by her loss and eager for retribution against her son to alleviate that suffering?

"Three years ago, a fire broke out in our old house. It stood on the very spot where that money-grubbing sack Mc Hoon is now having his new house built. My son and his wife died in the flames. Nobody knows how the fire started... maybe it was coal from the stove or an oil lantern. Anna survived the fire but..." she swallows hard. Tears shimmered in her eyes and the lump in her throat made her tone harsher. "All we wanted was our peace. But they made it difficult for us as strangers from the beginning." She continued, bitterness seeping into her voice, "They wouldn't even let us into mass on the anniversary of my son's death to light a candle..."

Kyle felt pity for the old woman but pushed it aside with a firm hand. They absolutely had to find out the truth before there were more victims!

"Could it have been arson?" asked Dr. Archer, as if to play into Kyle's cards.

The old lady contorted her face sorrowfully and cast a hasty glance in the direction of the door behind which the child had disappeared.

"I don't want to believe it." she then replied more quietly. "We live among these people. I don't want to have to think that maybe..." her voice, so resolute in other moments, broke on this stone-like thin glass.

Kyle looked at the old woman, trying to piece together how she might drag the host's body out of the grave. The most bizarre things had a place in his thoughts by now. Hunches or simply confused ideas that had no basis and no proof. Widowers, Undead, Skinchangers, curse or spell, what was it that they simply did not recognize so far? Whatever it was, someone was murdering in this small village. WHY was someone murdering? Why was he choosing these victims? This question was the only one that ran like a thread through everything. And her last and only clue so far was this woman. Was it really revenge?

"Mrs. Jäger. Where were you at noon today?" Kyle asked now in a firmer voice.

The old woman looked at him and her gray brows jerked toward each other.

"I had to slaughter and process two of the lambs. Something seemed to have scared them to death and we couldn't let the meat go to waste. That's why I've been here all day." Lurking, her eyes settled on Kyle. "Why do you ask that?"

The conversation increased in tension and the air became noticeably thicker. Kyle let the heel of his hand rest on the tabletop while he began tapping it with his fingertips. Dull, rhythmic thumping like a clicking metronome.