^ seeing as this is chapter 11 :)

Danni looked up from her work as the door creaked open. Bill stood in the doorway, his face blank.

"Oh, Bill! Take a seat. Let me get my book..." She grabbed a notebook off a shelf behind her, then placed it on the table. She then pulled out a small, black recorder, and set it on the table between her and Bill.

Bill and his wife had both been instructed to come in separately for questioning. Although it was unlikely, they were still both suspects of their daughter's murder. It killed Danni to call them over, but it was a rule. She clicked the small red circle on. It whirred at first, then reduced to a steady, almost silent drone, signaling for Danni to begin the questioning.

"Mr. McVinch. I'm sorry, but this has to be done. Could you please tell me where you were on the night of Emily's death?"

Bill didn't answer. He sat there, frozen, as if still listening to someone speaking.

"Mr. McVinch?"

"Sorry. Yes, I was-" Bill's eyes watered as he spoke. "I was at work. I had decided to stay late to organize a time line with some other guys."

"Where do you work?" Danni got out her pen, even though she already knew where.

"I'm on a project right now. Opening a museum on 6th street about Goldwater's history... But I usually come home earlier in the night. And if I had..."

Dani immediately understood Bill's pain. He thought it was his fault; that if he'd been there, it wouldn't have happened. Danni nodded, pity in her eyes. "Anything else you'd like to add, Mr. McVinch?"

Bill's eyes narrowed, then moved to hers. He leaned forward, and put his hand over the recorder.

"Danni", he whispered urgently. "I need your help. There's something- something wrong."

"Bill-", Danni began, but he cut her off.

"You don't understand. I did some research, and look." He pulled out an ancient looking photo from his pocket. "This girl. She was killed. By my ancestors. For witchcraft."

Danni's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't see what this has to do with anything."

Bill lowered his voice so it was no more than a mutter. "I sense evil, Danni. There is evil in this town."

Danni understood his concern. "Dust", she said. "We know. We're doing all we can."

"No", Bill persisted. "Not-" he stopped. There was something wrong. Something he hadn't taken into account. He suddenly stood up. "Thank you", he said, before leaving the room. Danni let him go. He wasn't ready, she thought. Not ready to properly process the death of his step daughter. He was in denial, obviously. But no one could help him out of that other than himself. He would be alone until he chose otherwise. 

Danni sighed, thinking back to what he had said. About coming home earlier from work. She didn't want to think about it, but it bought back memories... so many memories. It had taken Danni a long, long time to push that building to the back of her head. The one with the rotting walls, and the bad drainage system. The one that she had been living in with her two friends... tears begun to spring to Danni's eyes as she recalled the night.

No. She had learned that thinking about it would only cause pain. And Danni wasn't ready for that. It would be a pain far worse that a knife in the quad, or a bullet in the shoulder. And she had experienced both. No, this would be a pain far greater. A pain that couldn't be eliminated with drugs or painkillers. There was no medicine for the visions that would pop into the FBI's head, and no cure for the tears that would threaten to fall down her face. There was only one cure: Don't think about it.

Bill was in his car, and the music was turned up high. But Bill couldn't hear the music. He was too busy trying to hear his own thoughts as they spun around his head like an unorganized tornado of files. He knew he had seemed crazy. Evil, he had said. He had surprised himself, even. But something told him that the outburst had been his true feelings. That it wasn't to be dismissed as something like a gut feeling, or a hunch. it was more than that. Suddenly, there was a loud honk, and Bill's eyes looked up just in time to see a huge truck. He cried out and swerved back to his lane, just in time. The truck whooshed past, a faint voice yelling asshole amidst the wind.

Bill let out a shaky breath. He couldn't let this affect him so much he put himself in danger. He had to concentrate. His eyes were glued to the road, and the car ran smoothly for the rest of the journey. 

When the car pulled into the driveway, it's tyres growled over the gravel like an angry beast. Bill got out of the car, and walked up the porch into his house. He fumbled with his keys before the for swung open. He walked into the living room to see his daughter facing away from him, standing like a statute in the centre of the room. She seemed to be holding something, and she hummed softly.

"Hello, Macy", Bill called out. Macy didn't say anything. She just kept humming, and cradling the thing in her arms.

"Macy?"

Again,  she didn't respond. The young girl was preoccupied, Bill decided. He bent down, and undid his shoelace. As he stood up, he cried out in surprise. Macy was facing him, her arms by her side.

"Gosh, Mace. You gave me a fright", Bill laughed. He approached her, then frowned as he noticed her eyes were fixated on the other side of the room. He followed her gaze to a doll that sat by the front door, as if guarding it. It hadn't been there before. Bill was silent for a few moments, then dismissed it as tiredness.

Suddenly, Bill froze. He rushed over to the doll, picking it up. It's face was so... Familiar. Oh god. Bill's expression turned to one of fear as he recognized it. He knew it.

It was the doll from the photo. The doll that Martha was holding.

And now it was here.