The Visitor (8 page)

Twelve

I
staggered to the elevator and somehow managed to make it back to my room without detection. I felt very alone and frightened. Something was happening to me. Something that I'd never experienced before. The ghost voices in my head were silent now, but the echo of that cacophony lingered.

Since the age of nine, I'd avoided contact with ghosts. Papa had warned me early on that their parasitic nature made them especially dangerous to people like us because what they craved above all else was to be human again. To acknowledge their presence only deepened that craving and caused them to cling even harder to those they haunted. How was I supposed to follow all these strange clues without making myself vulnerable to them? Without compromising both my physical and mental well-being?

I couldn't. I
wouldn't
.

And yet even as I resolved to protect myself, I was irresistibly drawn to them. The blind ghost wouldn't go away until I solved her puzzle. The voices in my head wouldn't let me rest until I found out what they wanted.

Climbing into bed, I cowered under the covers until the sun came up, refusing to succumb to exhaustion until the ghosts had once again drifted back through the veil. Then I dozed on and off until the cheerful clatter of the breakfast trays awakened me, and I tried to put everything else out of my mind. I didn't want to think about that predawn trip to the morgue or to dwell on the dark direction my gift had taken me. With sunlight streaming in through the window, it all seemed like a very bad dream to me now.

And that was how I wanted to think of it. An episode brought on by the trauma of my attack and the strangeness of my surroundings. I told myself that as soon as I left the hospital and returned to my normal routine, everything would be fine.

But my life had never been normal or fine. A bump on the head hadn't brought the sightless ghost into my life or the scratching into my walls. Something was definitely going on, but I shoved every bad thought to the furthest corner of my mind as I nibbled on a piece of toast and sipped weak tea.

Devlin had stopped by earlier while I slept. He'd left a small bag of toiletries and a fresh change of clothing, which was a very good thing since I had nothing to wear home but the pajamas I'd had on when I was admitted. I was touched by his thoughtfulness and grateful for his foresight. While I waited for the doctor to make his rounds, I showered, dressed and then perched on the side of the bed, picking at my broken nails.

By the time all the release papers had been signed and my personal belongings returned to me, I barely had enough time to call a cab and get to the Oak Grove Cemetery for the dedication service. Under the circumstances, I could have skipped the ceremony and no one would have held it against me, but Dr. Shaw had asked me to say a few words and I didn't want to let him down.

And, as eager as I was to leave the hospital, I wasn't so keen on returning home alone to face the scene of the crime. Focusing on work had always been my salvation and this morning, even Oak Grove provided a welcome distraction.

But I had gone no distance at all down the cemetery pathway when I froze in trepidation. The day was sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and already a small crowd had assembled. I could hear laughter and the lighthearted chatter of a friendly gathering that would undoubtedly lavish praise upon my work.

So why the foreboding? Why the thorny dread that had manifested at the base of my neck and now scratched its way down my spine?

I'd detected a death smell, I realized. A trace of decay so faint I could almost believe my imagination had manufactured the scent. I scanned the perimeter of the cemetery as I sniffed the air, but the odor had already vanished.

Temple Lee, the state archaeologist and the closest thing I had to a best friend, sauntered over. “Admiring your own work, I see.”

I tore my gaze from the wall to glance at her. “What?”

“You were obviously captivated by something and I don't see anyone in this geriatric crowd that would elicit that level of enthrallment.” She caught my arm and turned me toward the light, her expression instantly sobering. “Is that a bruise on your face? What on earth happened?”

“I took a tumble, but I'm fine now. It looks a lot worse than it feels.” I didn't want to begin the event with a lengthy explanation about the break-in or my attack, especially with someone as sharp and inquisitive as Temple. So I shook off the incident with a quick smile and change of subject. “This is a nice surprise. I didn't expect you to drive all the way in from Columbia for the ceremony. How did you even know about it?”

“I received an invitation a few weeks ago. I happened to be in town so I thought I'd drop by and see what you've done with the place.”

“And?”

“Impressive, but you already know that.”

“The restoration was a lot of hard work,” I said. “And I don't mind admitting that I'm glad it's finally over.”

“I don't blame you, considering all that went down here.” Temple glanced out over the headstones. “Hard to believe all of that happened only last year. Seems a lifetime ago.”

“I know.”

Her gaze drifted to the gathering. “I don't see Devlin among the illustrious. Surely he means to show up for the big unveiling.”

“I don't know if he's coming. He has a lot on his plate these days.”

Temple turned to scrutinize my expression. “Do I detect trouble in paradise?”

“Not at all.”

“You're still together, then?”

“Of course,” I said a little too defensively. “Why wouldn't we be?”

She shrugged. “No reason except that I've always found the two of you an unlikely pairing.”

“You've never made any bones about that.”

“Don't be offended. I've heard you say the same thing yourself.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “He's fully recovered from the shooting, I trust.”

“He's back on the job if that's what you mean.”

“That's not at all what I mean and you know it.”

As much as I enjoyed Temple's company, I remained a private person and felt no compulsion to share with her the more intimate details of my life. “Oh, look,” I said. “There's Dr. Shaw. And I believe he's headed our way.”

She gave me a knowing glance. “You're very good at changing the subject, but I'll let it slide because I'm in no mood for Rupert. I'll just make myself scarce and let the two of you have a nice chat.”

“I'll tell him you said hello.”

“Yes, do that,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

I watched her disappear down a pathway before I turned to greet Dr. Shaw. He was in the company of two women who looked to be about his age or perhaps even a few years older. One was tall and slim and appeared athletic for her age, the other tiny, stooped and walked with a cane. The latter wore a dark print dress with a smock-like jacket that covered her shrunken torso while the taller woman was attired in jeans, boots and a lightweight blazer. I wondered if they were members of the committee, the group of distinguished, often eccentric and always private Emerson University alumni that had hired me to restore Oak Grove Cemetery once it had become a candidate for the National Register.

As Dr. Shaw and his companions approached, his gaze went immediately to the bruise on my face. “My dear, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm fine, thank you. I had a fall, but nothing serious.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said, giving me a worried look. “I've brought along two guests who are eager to meet you. This is Mrs. Louvenia Durant and her sister, Miss Nelda Toombs. Ladies, this is Miss Amelia Gray, the cemetery restorer I told you about earlier.”

My gaze flashed to Dr. Shaw but he gave an imperceptible shake of his head as if to warn me to say nothing of our previous conversation. “How do you do?” I murmured.

The tiny woman transferred the cane to her left hand and offered me her right. Her grip was surprisingly strong, although her skin felt as dry and fragile as tissue paper. “Louvenia and I are very happy to make your acquaintance, Miss Gray. Dr. Shaw has been quite effusive with his praise of your work, and I must say, he did not overstate your accomplishments. It's a beautiful restoration, isn't it, sister?”

“It's impressive, yes,” Louvenia agreed. She, too, extended her hand and while we conducted the initial pleasantries, I surreptitiously studied their faces for any resemblance to Ezra Kroll.

Louvenia's eyes were the color of moonstones, soft and dreamy, but Nelda's were dark like her brother's and I imagined they could be just as piercing.

“Mrs. Durant has a cemetery located on her property that she may be interested in restoring,” Dr. Shaw explained, and I marveled at his smooth delivery. His tone conveyed not the slightest hint that we had spoken recently and at length about Kroll Cemetery. “Naturally, I told them about you and invited them to meet me here today so they could see a sample of your work.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying to emulate his coolness. I shifted my gaze to his companions. “If there is anything in particular you'd like to see or if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask.”

“I'm sure we'll have a great many questions once we get closer to the process,” Louvenia said. “But for now, it would be helpful to know how long a restoration normally takes.”

“It depends on the size and condition of the cemetery and the scope of the restoration. I'm afraid I can't even give you a rough estimate until I see the cemetery for myself.”

“That makes sense,” Nelda said with a nod. “However, before we take up any more of your time, perhaps we should inform you that the cemetery is said to be haunted.”

Louvenia scowled down at her sister. “You know I dislike it when you speak so glibly about such matters.”

“I didn't mean to be glib,” Nelda said, but I thought I detected a faint twitch at the corner of her mouth. “I merely thought Miss Gray should be aware of the rumors before she commits to a restoration.”

“What are the rumors?” I asked.

A shadow flickered in Louvenia's gray eyes. “Most recently, two of the workers I hired to clean up around the cemetery claimed they heard strange voices coming from behind the walls and some of their tools have gone inexplicably missing. Regardless of my sister's intent, she was right to warn you. The dead don't rest easy in Kroll Cemetery.”

“Perhaps the restoration will calm them,” Nelda said. “At any rate, Miss Gray doesn't strike me as the type to be overly bothered by ghosts.”

“She's never been to Kroll Cemetery,” Louvenia muttered.

I suppressed a shiver as Dr. Shaw and I exchanged glances.

Outwardly, Louvenia Durant appeared cool and composed, but there was something going on in the depths of her eyes. A feverish glint that echoed the nervous flutter of her hands before she clasped them behind her back.

“Tell me a little more about the cemetery,” I said. “Is it a family burial site?” I knew from Dr. Shaw that most of the interred were from Kroll Colony, but I was curious to hear her response.

“Our only brother is laid to rest there,” she said. “We have no other relatives in the cemetery, but since it's located on my property, I feel a responsibility to care for all the graves.”

“I understand.”

“You may have heard of our brother,” Nelda put in. “He was once quite notorious. His name was Ezra Kroll.”

I tried to sound only mildly curious. “Why was he notorious?”

She glanced at her sister and something passed between them that deepened Louvenia's scowl. “I don't see any need to go into that right now. It has nothing to do with why we're here.”

“Sister is right,” Nelda said. “Ezra's story can wait for another day. We've already taken up too much of your time and we've someone waiting for us.”

“Dr. Shaw, could I have a quick word before we leave?” Louvenia asked anxiously.

“Of course,” he replied with his usual courteous aplomb. He turned to Nelda and me. “Will you excuse us?”

“Take your time,” Nelda said before I could speak. “It'll give me a chance to get better acquainted with Miss Gray. That is, if she has no objection.”

“None at all.”

Nelda stared after her sister. “Poor Louvenia. She would never admit it, but she's hoping Dr. Shaw can help exorcise her ghosts.”

“Oh?”

“My sister has always been given to flights of fancy, particularly when it comes to that old cemetery. A guilty conscience is a powerful conjurer, Miss Gray.”

I didn't know how to respond to her comment, so I held my silence and waited.

“You see, she and our brother had a terrible falling-out before he died. She's never gotten over it.”

“That would be a hard thing to get over,” I said.

“I only tell you this because if you decide to accept the restoration, you'll be working closely with Louvenia, and I think it only right that you know what to expect.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Physically, she's as strong as a horse,” Nelda went on. “I've always been in awe of her stamina. Even now she works twice as long and hard as most of the hired hands that are half her age. But emotionally she's a lot more fragile than one might imagine. Truth be told, I'm a little worried about how the restoration will affect her. Dealing with that cemetery is bound to stir up painful memories. But she's right. Those graves have been neglected for far too long. The dead deserve better. Especially our dear Rose.”

“Rose?”

“She was the last person laid to rest in Kroll Cemetery. Perhaps you could give her grave a little extra care if you accept the commission. She was someone very special to us.” Nelda leaned heavily on her cane, her dark gaze rapt as she studied my features.

“Of course,” I said, disconcerted by the intense inspection.