Reawakened: A Once Upon a Time Tale (24 page)

Since he’d been fired, though, Sidney had been spending a lot of time drinking at Granny’s and at the Rabbit Hole. Emma had been forced to “escort” him home one night after finding him drunk and raving in the middle of Main Street at midnight. He’d gone down a rabbit hole of his own, apparently, which was why she was skeptical when he came to her office with a manila envelope, claiming to have David Nolan’s “real” phone records.

“As opposed to what?” Emma said. “His fake records?”

“That’s right,” he said. “The records you have are falsified.” He handed her the envelope. “These are the true phone records.”

“You’re telling me that the police have the wrong records,” she said. “And you, the former newspaper editor, have the right records?”

“That’s right.”

Emma took it and looked at the paper inside. It resembled the official records she’d subpoenaed from the phone company, but there was one telling difference: Glass’s version showed an eight-minute call between David and Kathryn an hour after Kathryn had last been seen.

Emma tried to think it through. Had Glass manufactured these? If so, to what end? And what was the other possibility? That she had in fact been given falsified records by the phone company? If that were true, who had done it, and why?

“Why would you expect me to take this one as the real version and the other as the false?”

“Because I don’t have an agenda,” Sidney said.

Sure you don’t, Emma thought.

Problem was, when Emma went down to the phone company herself to straighten out the mix-up, she discovered that Glass’s records were accurate, and the original copy she’d received—through the mayor’s office—was incorrect. That was the difference. The original records had gone through Regina’s office. And they’d changed on their way through. She asked around to find out how such a thing could happen, but they couldn’t explain it and neither could Regina’s office.

Sidney Glass had come to her with good information. That was interesting. And for whatever reason, it looked as though Regina was trying to push her away from David as a suspect.

She liked David, even though he’d been such an idiot about the affair. But she couldn’t let that keep her from doing her job, and with the phone record, it only made sense to bring him in for some questioning. There was no body—not yet, anyway, but Emma knew that a few days going by with no leads was a bad, bad sign for a missing person. So on the night of the Miners Day Fair, when most of the town was distracted, she discreetly approached David and asked him to come down to the station. “I’m not arresting you,” she told him, “but we need to talk about that day.”

David came willingly, although he was adamant about his innocence. Emma expected nothing less and went easy on him during the interview. He said he couldn’t explain the phone record, and that there had to be a mistake.

“You don’t understand, Emma,” he said. “This whole thing—this has pretty much destroyed me.” He shook his head,
rubbed his eyes. “If there was just some way to have done it all better, you know?”

“Sometimes life is just messy no matter what you do,” she said. “But, David… I shouldn’t say this, but I’ll say it: I believe you. I don’t think you had anything to do with this. I don’t know where she is or what happened, but I don’t think it was you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that. A lot.”

“I do think you might want to get a lawyer, though,” she said.

The worried look came back.

• • •

Regina showed up in the office an hour later, wanting to know where Emma was with the investigation. For the moment, it seemed as though their personal war was on hold. Emma had never seen Regina so concerned for something other than herself. She, like David, was legitimately broken up about Kathryn’s disappearance.

“Nothing new,” Emma said. “I’m sorry to say.”

“Why did you have David Nolan in?”

Emma looked at her, surprised. “Were you staking out the station, Regina?” she said.

“I saw him come out,” she said and shrugged. “And now I want to know what you’re thinking. It’s the chain of command and I’m within my rights.”

Emma shook her head. The woman knew everything about the town. It was inhuman.

“I was asking him about the phone records. He apparently—”

“Pocket-dialed Kathryn the night she left, yes,” she said, nodding. “I was informed of the erroneous record.”

“That’s a bit of a leap,” Emma said, “but I’m not coming to any conclusions.”

“Ms. Swan, please. He had nothing to do with it.”

Interesting, Emma thought. Regina’s pulling for David. She didn’t know what it meant. Not yet.

“And you’re so sure because…?”

“Because I know him. And I know this town. Perhaps you have an advantage as an outsider, as someone who can see things anew, but I’ve been mayor here for a long time and I have a sense for these things.”

Emma didn’t like how adamant Regina was.

Regina stood. “The point is that I’d like to see some more urgency coming out of this office. Perhaps a little more creativity. What about this new stranger in town? What about carjackers? What about Gold? Have you talked to him? I want you to find my friend. It’s as though you haven’t even looked.”

“We all want to find her, Regina,” she said. “Just be patient. I’m good at finding people. Sometimes it’s tricky.”

• • •

After the huntsman released her and she fled into the woods, Snow White had little more than the clothes on her back. It was hard going as she forged a new path, all alone, without the help of a single friend, and she lived hand-to-mouth and slept in the woods for weeks, counting on the generosity of strangers to get through the days. She was just getting the hang of life as a fugitive when something new changed everything: snow.

And cold.

And wind.

And ice.

She had been doing all right in her first weeks on her own, scavenging and begging for what food she could, sometimes finding a kind peasant who’d let her sleep in the barn. The Queen and her men had begun printing wanted posters and distributing them across the land, though, and she knew that the kindness of the people would only go so far. If she exposed herself much more, someone would turn her in.

One night, when the temperature had dropped considerably, Snow found herself shivering and stumbling through the woods, thinking for the first time that this—all of it—might be the death of her. She’d escaped the Huntsman only to have become invisible. Not the worst thing in the world when you were on the run, but the problem with being invisible was that no one could help you, either.

She couldn’t feel her hands or her feet when she saw, at the top of a hill, a small farm and a little light in one of the windows. She stopped beside a tree and watched. A young man was at the window, and he was talking with someone. Thirty feet from the main house, there was a chicken coop. Chicken coops, she knew, tended to be excellent places to sleep. Warm, free of humans, and full of eggs. She was so cold, and seeing that whoever was in the window was distracted by the young man, she decided to risk it, and ran through the snow toward the coop.

Once inside, she crinkled her nose at the smell of the chickens, who clucked and stirred at their new guest. The rooster seemed mildly disturbed by her presence and put on a show atop some hay, but soon he settled down as well, and Snow tucked herself into a corner of the coop. She fell asleep almost immediately.

• • •

She dreamt of her father, and the time before Regina, when her mother had only just died and he took her to the shore to play castle on the rocks. It was a memory—a cherished memory—but in the dream, there was more: Her father was happy, looking out at the water, and when Snow turned to look where he was looking, she saw her mother rise up out of the waves, a smile on her face. She held her arms out to Snow, and the weight of all the sadness lifted. They would be together again, if only for a day, if only here.

She turned to her father. “It’s Mommy!” she cried.

He nodded. “Yes!” he said. “Go to her!”

Snow looked back at her mother, who was twenty feet out into the sea. Worried, she looked back at her father. “I can’t get to her!” she cried.

“You can!” he cried. “You have to swim!”

“But I’m afraid!”

“It doesn’t matter!” cried her father. “She’s dead anyway! And so am I!”

Snow woke up with a start, the image of her father’s wryly smiling face still lingering behind her eyes. It was dawn and the chickens were restless again.

Her stomach growled, and Snow sat up and looked at them. “I’m sorry,” she said to one of them, “but you have something I need.”

She moved around the coop and collected a couple of eggs, not wanting to take so many that the owners would be in difficult straights. She gently placed them into her satchel and was about to leave when she heard something.

Footsteps.

Someone was coming.

She darted to the back corner of the coop and crouched
down behind some crates, knowing that she could very well meet her end here and now. It wouldn’t take the Queen or any of her men. Just an angry farmer.

Someone came inside, and Snow pulled herself into a ball. In so doing, though, her cloak scraped against the wooden wall, and she closed her eyes, knowing the noise had given her away.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

A woman’s voice.

Snow’s initial vision of an angry farmer with a pitchfork changed into someone else. A girl. Someone kind. Perhaps.

She took a chance.

Slowly, Snow rose up from behind the stack of crates. A young woman, pale-skinned, wearing a red cloak, stared back at her.

“Who are you?” the girl in red said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was stealing eggs. I’m so sorry.”

The girl smiled.

“Well. You’re the most honest thief I’ve ever met.”

“Only two,” she said, and held them up. “I was just so hungry. And it’s so cold outside.”

“Did you spend the whole night out here?” the girl asked.

Snow nodded.

“Did you not know there was a wolf monster on the loose?”

Snow looked concerned. “I thought I did hear something,” she said. “But I should—I should be going. I’ll leave these.” She looked for a place to put the two eggs.

“No, no, it’s fine,” said the girl. “You can keep them. I don’t care. What’s your name?”

“My name?” Snow said. “My name is Margaret. No… it’s Mary. Mary.”

“That’s quite a name,” the girl said. “Can I call you Mary?”

Snow White nodded.

“Come on, you can stay with us, I’m sure it will be fine,” said the girl. “My name is Red.” She led the young woman out of the coop and into the snow. “I just have to draw some water from the well. But tell me, I don’t understand. What are you doing out here?”

They walked across the snow toward a well, and Snow White ignored the question and instead said, “What is this monster?” She helped Red with the bucket then, and together they lowered it down.

“It’s Wolfstime. Killer wolf out there. Big as a pony, but a lot more bloodthirsty. It’s been stalking the whole area pretty regular. It kills cattle and—Hang on. This pulley sticks sometimes. If you can just…”

Snow White had taken a few more steps and stood atop a ridge. Red joined her, and Snow couldn’t help but put her hand up over her mouth. All around them the bodies of the men were strewn like broken dolls. The red of their blood stained the white snow.

• • •

Ruby and Granny had been bickering and fighting for weeks. As so many in the town passed through Granny’s Diner as a part of their day, it was no secret that the two women were having trouble. And it was no surprise when, after an argument about a Saturday night shift, Ruby up and quit the diner, leaving Granny to fend for herself in a full house.

“Long time coming,” people mumbled.

“Can’t believe it didn’t happen sooner.”

Emma and Mary Margaret watched uncomfortably as the whole argument went down. At the end of it, Ruby stormed
out and screamed that she was leaving town and heading to Boston. Granny didn’t respond, and when Ruby was gone, she acted like she didn’t care one way or the other.

“Yikes,” Emma said. “Things are not good on the home front, I guess.”

“They’ve always been at each other’s throats,” said Mary Margaret, turning back to her hot chocolate. “I don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry, I’m being glib,” Emma said. “We were talking about David.”

“I just want to be sure he’s okay,” Mary Margaret said. “I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.”

“He’s okay. He’s shaken up, he’s worried people think he has something to do with it. But he’s okay.”

“Is there any word on Kathryn?”

“None. I have nothing. I was just about to go back to square one and think it through from the start of the time line. I’m at a loss.”

“Did you check with Boston again?”

“She’s not there, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t understand how a person can just completely disappear,” said Mary Margaret. “Right from her car. What happened? Did she evaporate?”

They left the diner ten minutes later; Emma had seen that Mary Margaret’s mood deteriorated dramatically after that part of the conversation. Emma was worried about her friend, but she knew, too, that she probably shouldn’t be seen socializing with her so much. Mary Margaret was perhaps a bit too naïve to realize it, but she wasn’t clear of suspicion, either. To Emma, Mary Margaret seemed so innocent, so unaware of the dangers in the world. She was independent, but sheltered at the same time. It was an unusual combination.

It was cold, and Emma was hugging herself as they came around the corner. Both she and Mary Margaret were surprised to see Ruby standing at the bus stop.

She had one small suitcase with her and was looking down Main Street furtively.

“You do know no buses ever come,” Emma said to her. “Where are you going?”

“Away” was all Ruby said.

“We overheard the fight,” said Mary Margaret. “All of us did, I guess.”

“Yeah, well that just means you overheard the truth. I’m sick of her and I’m sick of that diner. And I’m sick of Storybrooke. I’m going to Boston.”