There was a killer on the loose—dire matters at hand—yet here she was, standing in a cemetery openly weeping. No, not weeping; that sounds calm and reserved. What she was doing was a hiccupping mess of snot and tears. “Because this is how normal people respond to a work of art.” Ireland punctuated her self-chastising with an exaggerated eye roll. It had started simple enough, a walk through town to enjoy the beautiful colors of the autumn trees that were hard to find in the concrete jungle of Manhattan. She’d followed a trail, enjoying the crunch of leaves under her feet. The path weaved through town, allowing her to bask in its peace as it led across the back grounds of the Old Dutch Church cemetery. Then she saw her. The Lady in White—according to the plaque at her feet—was another Sleepy Hollow legend. This one being of a woman who died tragically the night before her wedding. After frequent post-mortem sightings of the forever grieving bride-to-be, she was then memorialized in statue form.
