Sylvester yearned for freedom, silently hoping for an officer to appear, announcing a mistake and granting his release. Instead, he found himself in a constant state of evasion, hiding from the prison’s nacing bullies, each bearing the weight of a dozen sins.
Later that day, Mr. Williams visited him and he looked visibly upset. His accusatory tone cut through the air, "What other things have you stolen from the opera house, you thief?! I cannot believe you would do this to us. To ."
"What?" Sylvester was taken aback by the man’s tone.
"You stole the red wig from the opera house and clothes that were reserved for the plays, tch. I have been dealing with officers coming to the opera house thanks to you, and instead of the custors, I have reporters questioning if I knew about it."
"I didn’t do it, Mr. Williams. I swear," Sylvester pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "I’ve poured my soul into the opera house. I’d never—"
"I wish I didn’t know you at all, Sylvester," Mr. Williams interrupted, his expression hardened. "And keep your lunchti ti with Poppy to yourself. I won’t have my niece dragged into your ss."
As Sylvester clung to a sliver of hope, the world outside boiled with rage. News of the scarecrow killer’s identity had turned the crowd into an angry mob, their shouts echoing through the streets:
"HANG THE MURDERER!"
"NO TRIAL FOR THE KILLER! SENTENCE HIM TO DEATH!"
"WE WON’T REST UNTIL HE IS PUNISHED!"
As Jane passed through one of the bustling areas, she noticed people carrying banners and marching down the streets.
"The crowd has turned into a frenzy, Miss Jane," Addison remarked from their carriage. "They want this resolved as quickly as possible."
"The murders have plagued the towns for months... this outco was inevitable," Jane murmured, her lips set in a thin line. She couldn’t help but wonder how Sylvester was holding up.
Though Jane had personally concluded that Sylvester, Ricardo, Agnes, and Marcello were all facets of the sa person, proving it seed an impossible task. The complexity of it gave her a headache, but she was determined to help him.
"So are saying it’s witchcraft. The way the murders happened..." Addison murmured, trailing off. He didn’t need to say more; they both recalled the last ti such accusations led to a woman being burned alive, with no one held accountable.
The carriage arrived at the commissioner’s office, surrounded by reporters eager for updates on Sylvester’s case. Jane stepped out while Addison remained with the carriage. She navigated through the crowd and entered the building, making her way to the commissioner’s office. Upon arrival, she offered the commissioner a respectful bow.
"Good afternoon, Commissioner," Jane greeted, noting the excitent in his eyes.
"Miss Reinhart! Congratulations on catching the criminal. You’ve done a splendid job assisting the officers and using fingerprints. An excellent idea, which I wasn’t sure would work," the commissioner admitted. "But now, all is well, and the towns are safe. The public is happy with us "
Jane, always an advocate of justice, found herself conflicted for the first ti. She offered a tight smile and asked, "I heard you wanted to see ?"
"Yes," the commissioner confird. "Your na has flourished, and you have earned it thanks to this case, Miss Reinhart." He picked up a file from his desk and handed it to her. "This is your new high-profile case. Let know if you need any assistance."
Jane opened the file to review the case details, her concentration briefly interrupted by the commissioner’s voice. "Our town sure has beco infamously popular. I’ve told the judge that we must punish the criminal to the fullest extent!"
Another officer entered the room, and as Jane prepared to excuse herself, the newcor greeted her, "Good work, Miss Reinhart!"
Two days later, night fell over Riddleford and its prison. Sylvester ate his dinner with palpable anxiety, like a rabbit, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for anymore. Morning? The court hearing? An opportunity to escape, only to be caught and beaten by an enraged mob? The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him on edge and without solace.
Sylvester felt a surge of relief when no one bothered him during his al. After finishing, he made his way to wash his plate, only to find his path blocked by the blond man he suspected was nad Garry.
"You’ve been acting coy and making wait," Garry said, licking his lips.
"Go find soone else and stop blocking my way," Sylvester snapped, shoving Garry aside to make his point.
But Garry didn’t take the rejection lightly. "Let’s see how good you are at pushing around!" he threatened, launching himself at Sylvester. The two n quickly descended into a physical brawl, rolling on the ground as they grappled with each other. Garry curled his fist and punched Sylvester hard. "How do you like that, huh?" he taunted.
Sylvester, reeling from the blow, fought back with as much strength as he could muster, the sounds of their struggle echoing through the prison corridors.
Before the fight could escalate further, the warden arrived and forcefully separated the two n. Sylvester, fortunate to be on the ground and visibly in pain, was spared imdiate punishnt, while Garry, caught on top, faced the warden’s wrath.
"You again, Garry! Take him to the solitary cell for two days!" the warden ordered. The guards quickly apprehended Garry, who sent a nacing glare at Sylvester, promising retribution.
Sylvester was dragged back to his cell and thrown inside, where he eventually fainted from the pain. An hour later, he regained consciousness, groaning in agony.
"Mierda! Bastardo!" He cursed under his breath. "This is why you can’t be nice and behave!"
It was Ricardo who now groaned in pain as he sat upright on the ground, pulling himself to lean against the wall. He noticed his cellmate, Teddy, was awake and asked, "You ever gotten caught up like this?"
Teddy stared at him for a mont before replying, "In the past. Not anymore."
"What changed?"
"I’ve been here for more than a decade," Teddy answered, to which Ricardo whistled in surprise. "You end up being an uninteresting prisoner to the rest after a while."
"I wonder if I could work here as a cleaner. It would be interesting," Ricardo murmured, a comnt that puzzled Teddy.
"You have mood swings?" Teddy asked, catching Ricardo off guard.
"Hm, I don’t know. Though I am not happy being here," Ricardo shook his head. Then, with a curious expression, he inquired, "How did you end up here? What did you do?"
"I used to be a doctor," Teddy began, deciding there was no harm in sharing since he would spend the rest of his life in prison. "I killed my wife."
Ricardo’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "Why? What did she do?"
"Nothing," Teddy replied, shaking his head. "But her body had stopped functioning. She was paralysed from the neck down and deeply unhappy. She begged for years, and I finally caved and euthanized her so she could rest. The law didn’t see it that way."
Ricardo could sense the love and sorrow in Teddy’s voice. "Sorry to hear that. May she rest in peace," he muttered.
"What’s your story?" Teddy asked, seemingly eager to shift the focus.
"Mine?" Ricardo’s expression turned grave. "This body belongs to , but soone else uses it," he said with a cryptic smile. Then, without further explanation, he climbed onto his side of the bed and drifted into sleep.
Three more days passed, with Sylvester waking each morning to a sense of dread. He continued to avoid his cellmate, who persistently stared at him, as if wanting to ask sothing. Thankfully, a visit from the detectives provided a brief respite.
"Detective Addison, it’s so good to see you!" Sylvester exclaid, hoping for good news. He hadn’t heard from his sister and was anxious. "How is everything going?" he asked nervously, glancing at the woman beside the detective.
"It’s progressing, Mr. Crowley," Detective Addison replied. "I’m here to ask you so questions about the case. Hopefully, it will help."
"Of course!" Sylvester eagerly agreed, his desperation for any aid apparent. Jane, anwhile, noticed the fresh bruises on his face that hadn’t been there during their last eting. Her eyes wandered, eventually landing on Sylvester’s cellmate, who subtly moved his hand to the side, causing her to frown.
After Addison finished taking details from Sylvester, they stepped out of the cell and into the corridor. On the way, Jane turned to the warden.
"Who is the man with Sylvester Crowley? The cellmate?" she asked.
The warden glanced at her, then at his clipboard. "That’s Teddy Walsham. He’s been here for over a decade. Used to be a doctor before he was convicted of killing his wife." He looked back at Jane, noticing her concerned expression. "Is there a problem, Miss Reinhart?"
"I need to see him alone," Jane stated, and this made Addison’s eyes go wide.
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