Don’t go talking about that voodoo crap around the station.”
“It’s not voodoo. It’s…you know what it is.”
Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “If you’re so keen that it’s real, then just say it.”
Kelly mimicked his supervisor’s expression. “Fine. It’s magic, that’s what it is.”
Marshall reached for Kelly and held him at his shirt collar. “Don’t you say that.” Marshall’s face was so close to Kelly’s, Kelly could feel the breath of each syllable spit out of Marshall’s mouth. “Don’t you dare say that. Do you know what they’ll do to you if they hear you talking that way? We’re cops. We don’t believe in magic.” He pushed Kelly back and spun around and yanked the closet door open. Kelly made to follow, when Marshall turned back around and glared at him. “You get those silly thoughts out of your head. There’s not room for them in this department.”
Read alsoWhen I Am Going: Growing Up In Ireland and Coming to America, 1901-1927
Annie Crowley was one of eleven children born in the farmhouse at Kilnahone, outside the village of Ballygarvan in the County Cork. Their father died a few weeks after the youngest was born, and the eldest emigrated to Australia not long after. Annie was six at the time, and a pupil at Ballygarvan National School, where the…
Officer Louis Kelly believes in magic, but Detective Marshall knows that’s a truck load of crap. When Marshall’s team is assigned to investigate the murder of Eddie Thompson and the disappearance of his wife, Brook, things look as routine as they usually do. That is, until Marshall finds himself a suspect and Kelly makes a link between the Thompson case and a case from 1823. While Marshall chases down every rabbit hole he can dig up to take out his man, Kelly can’t shake the feelings that this case is bigger than anything the Hulsberg Police Department has ever dealt with. If Marshall is too blind to see it, Kelly will figure it out himself. But something’s not right. How the hell does a serial killer kill in 1823 and 2014?