The Visitor

by Amanda Stevens

  “I can’t answer those questions, Amelia. That is something for you and John to work out. But perhaps I’ve given you the wrong impression about his time at the Institute. Even back then he was a skeptic.”

  “You once told me he was one of your best investigators.”

  “Precisely because of his incredulity. I’m sure that trait also serves him well in his police work.” Dr. Shaw grew pensive. “I will say this, though. Losing a child can change you in ways you never could have imagined. In essence, the person you were dies, too, making it easy to turn your back on whatever beliefs you once held.”

  I sat quietly riveted. I could never fully understand what he and Devlin had gone through, but at times their pain seemed tangible, as if I could reach out and pull the hollow ache of their loss into my own chest.

  Dr. Shaw absently twisted his pinky ring, and for a moment I was mesmerized by the play of light on the emblem. It was the same symbol that Devlin wore around his neck. Dr. Shaw had never spoken of his affiliation with the mysterious Order of the Coffin and the Claw, but I had no doubt that both he and his son, Ethan, had been members.

  “John was always a skeptic,” Dr. Shaw continued. “But he also had the kind of sensitivity I’ve rarely come across in my line of exploration.”

  “Sensitivity to what?” I asked.

  “People, places.” Dr. Shaw shrugged. “Perhaps what you witnessed last night was a reawakening of sorts. An unconscious prod by an intuition he long ago buried. But I would caution you about putting too much emphasis on that one incident or pushing him beyond his comfort zone. Whatever he experienced, he obviously needs time to process it.”

  “Yes, I’m sure that’s true. It’s strange that we should be talking about his time at the Institute. He mentioned it himself this morning and that’s so unlike him. He almost never talks about his past. There’s still so much about his life that remains a mystery to me.” I paused. “Do you know anything about his grandfather?”

  “Our paths have crossed on occasion.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he merely frowned.

  “And?”

  “From what I’ve observed, he’s a cold and imperious man. A bit old guard for my taste.”

  “Do you know anything about the Devlin family history?”

  “Only that they are one of the oldest and most influential families in Charleston and Jonathan Devlin would be the last to let you forget it.” Dr. Shaw observed me from across the table. “Why the sudden interest in John’s lineage?”

  “I overheard something recently. But...it’s not important. I shouldn’t bother you with so many questions when you obviously need your rest.” I stood. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can get you before I leave?”

  “I’ll be fine.” He started to rise to see me out, but I waved him back down. He sank heavily onto the chair as though the feeble effort had exhausted him. “Be careful at the cemetery today. My own intuition is telling me that things are apt to get darker before this is over. Even with John at your side, I can’t help worrying about you.”

  “You just rest,” I said. “John and I will take every precaution.”

  * * *

  But my trepidation only mounted as Devlin and I neared the cemetery a little while later. I gripped the steering wheel tightly as we bumped along the trail and the woods seemed to close in on us. I didn’t see or hear anything untoward, but I knew the ghosts were waiting. I knew the entity watched us from the shadows.

  Devlin could feel the oppression of those woods, too. I sensed a building tension as he stared out the window. I would have liked nothing more than to slip inside his head and prowl through his past, but I’d made an important discovery during those hours when sleep had eluded me. I couldn’t call upon the ability at will. I had no control over when and where it happened. On both occasions when I’d been able to penetrate his memories, I’d been touching the medallion, which led me to wonder if the power lay within the metal or emblem rather than inside me.

  I shot him a glance, but his gaze remained fixed on the passing scenery. In the instant before I turned back to the road, I thought about Dr. Shaw’s suggestion that Devlin might be going through a reawakening. A renewed sensitivity to people and places. Maybe that explained why he considered last night’s encounter nothing more than a shared delusion. Rather than seeing or sensing the entity for himself, he’d somehow experienced it through me.

  Open your eyes, Jack. Use your instincts. You know what she is.

  “What did you say?”

  I glanced at him, startled. “I didn’t say anything.”

  He gave me a silent appraisal. “How much farther?”

  “It’s just ahead. Another ten minutes, maybe.”

  He scanned the road in front of us. “I’d forgotten how remote this place is. How thick the woods are. The timber alone must be worth a fortune. No wonder Micah Durant is so protective of his grandmother’s property. Makes me wonder if he already has a buyer lined up. Maybe that’s why he’s so keen on chasing you off.”

  “Or maybe he just likes causing trouble,” I said.

  “A malcontent,” Devlin said. “I’ve run across a few of those in my time.”

  My blood went suddenly cold. “I’ve never heard you use that term before.”

  “It fits, doesn’t it? Dr. Shaw told me that Durant has been in and out of trouble since boyhood.”

  “Yes, it fits,” I said slowly as my hand lifted to Rose’s key.

  I thought about that shadow creeping up the wall last night and the footsteps outside the window. Maybe the malcontent hadn’t followed me through the maze after all. Perhaps someone had brought it to the cottage last night and released it into the bedroom to wreak havoc.

  * * *

  “Now we go the rest of the way on foot,” I said as we came to the end of the road. I killed the engine and we both climbed out of the vehicle.

  “It’s hot out here,” Devlin said. “But at least there’s still a breeze.”

  Yes, that breeze, I thought with a shudder as we sprayed ourselves with mosquito repellant. The wind seemed heavy and unnatural. The voices in my head had gone eerily silent, but the ghosts were still there. I could feel them. They knew I was coming and so did the entity.

  “Which way?” Devlin asked.

  “Follow me.” I took the lead as we walked single file along the trail through the woods. Every now and then I paused to listen as tiny claws foraged in the underbrush or a flock of birds took flight. I wanted to believe the animal activity was a good sign. If something evil skulked in the forest, the living creatures would surely have fled.

  But as soon as we left the trees and entered the maze, I grew nervous and claustrophobic. I didn’t like the notion of being trapped inside those impenetrable hedges. We had gone no distance at all when I heard the snap of a twig somewhere behind us.

  I drew up short and strained to listen. Was that the thud of stealthy footfalls behind us? The scrape of limbs, the rustle of fabric?

  I thought of Micah Durant and his bees and how easy it would be for him to let loose a colony inside the maze.

  “What’s wrong?” Devlin asked.

  “I thought I heard a twig snap.”

  He lifted his head, senses on full alert as he swept the narrow pathway behind us. “We should keep going. We’ll have a better view of our surroundings in the cemetery. If someone comes through the gate or over the wall, we’ll have ample warning.”

  I nodded. “Just in case we get separated in here, always bear left even when your instincts tell you to go right. You’ll eventually come out at the cemetery gate.”

  “We won’t get separated,” Devlin said, but even the metallic click of his weapon as he checked the cartridge failed to reassure me.

  * * *

  We were both perspiring by the time we appr
oached the vine-shrouded gate. The day seemed abnormally humid and I could feel static in the air even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

  Devlin warily scanned our surroundings. “Place looks deserted. And just as creepy as I remembered it.”

  “Wait until we get inside.”

  We stepped through the gate and the surreal beauty of Kroll Cemetery struck me anew. As we hovered at the entrance, a hush fell over the graves and I once again had that strange sensation of floating, of time stopping. But despite the outward calm, I could feel the stir of restless energy all around us.

  “I must have been here at a different time of day when I was a kid. I would have remembered the light,” Devlin said. “The way it shines down through all those cicada shells is extraordinary.”

  “Like the whole cemetery is suspended in amber.”

  “Or trapped in time. It’s a little unsettling,” he admitted.

  I watched him for a moment as I once again returned to my conversation with Dr. Shaw. Was it possible Devlin was undergoing his own transformation? Approaching his own crossroads?

  I didn’t want to dwell on the consequences of such a metamorphosis so I shoved the notion aside and turned down one of the pathways. “I think Rose’s grave is this way.”

  We made our way through the headstones, pausing now and then to examine a key engraving or to read a name aloud. When we finally located Rose’s grave site, I moved to the opposite side so that we both had a clear view of the inscription.

  Kneeling, I ran my hand over the top of the marker. “This is the shadow we saw in Dr. Shaw’s photo, remember? We wondered if it was a photographic artifact or an anomaly in the stone. But as you can see, the markings are braille.”

  “She was blind?” Devlin crouched across from me. “Has anyone said how she died?”

  “Yes. It’s a horrific story,” I said, fighting back a wave of inexplicable sadness. My great-grandmother had died long before I’d been born, but I wondered now if she had always been with me, an ethereal guardian drifting in and out of my life. Waiting, sensing, perhaps leaving a key necklace on a headstone for me to find. I hadn’t been able to see her, but I’d picked up on her feelings of loneliness and isolation. The terrible sense of loss that had lingered after Ezra Kroll’s passing.

  I tried to shake off the melancholy as I stared down at her grave. “Nelda Toombs said she found Rose hanged in her home. She was still clutching a key that she’d used to put out her eyes.”

  Devlin’s shocked gaze met mine. “That is horrible. Suicide is one thing, but self-mutilation to that extent is rare. What could have driven her to do such a thing?”

  “Apparently, she’d been ill for some time.”

  “Was she being treated?”

  “I doubt it. At least not in any meaningful way. She probably didn’t even realize anything was wrong until it was too late.”

  Devlin’s gaze was still on me, but he was silent for a very long time. I could only imagine what must be going through his mind. Was he recalling my strange behavior of late? Was he thinking about the incident last night and my obsession with Kroll Cemetery? Was he putting two and two together and wondering whether or not Rose’s illness had been passed down to me?

  “I think she blinded herself because of something she saw,” I said. “Something she couldn’t accept.”

  “Do you think she witnessed what happened at Kroll Colony?”

  “Either saw or figured it out. And she left clues here in this cemetery.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble to go to,” Devlin said. “Why not tell the police?”

  “Maybe she was afraid to. After Ezra Kroll died, she would have had no one to protect her. Imagine how alone and vulnerable she must have felt.”

  “Have you been able to translate the braille?” Devlin asked.

  “Yes, it’s from an old poem.” I removed my phone and read from Dr. Shaw’s email:

  “O calm and sacred bed, where lies

  In death’s dark mysteries

  A beauty far more bright

  Than the noon’s cloudless light.”

  “Death’s dark mysteries. Noon’s cloudless light.” He shrugged. “Seems an obvious reference to what happened at Kroll Colony. The colonists died during the noonday meal.”

  “Then, why hide the lines in braille when the time of the event had already been established? If Rose blinded herself on the same day she died, she must have already made arrangements for the headstone. She would have had to plan everything months in advance.”

  “Or someone did.”

  I glanced up. “You think she was murdered? You think her killer arranged for her headstone?”

  “I don’t know about the headstone. But if Rose knew something about the deaths at Kroll Colony, I’d say murder is a distinct possibility. The mutilation... The blindness...” He stared down at the inscription. “Seems like a warning to me.”

  “A warning? Then, why kill her so quickly?”

  “Not a warning to Rose, but for anyone else who might have known what she knew.”

  Or someone who might come along and try to solve her puzzle.

  “That’s a disturbing theory,” I said with a shiver.

  “More disturbing than blinding herself?” Devlin asked. “I’d say both scenarios are equally grim.”

  I glanced out over the whimsical cemetery, letting Rose slip into my head as my gaze traveled from gravestone to gravestone. I thought about all those keys and numbers she’d left behind and her fascination for photography and stereoscopy. I pictured her crouched and scribbling in her sanctuary while the keys tinkled overhead. Cowering in that tiny dark room as something prowled the shadows beneath her house.

  That tiny dark room...

  Darkroom. Dark...room.

  Just like that, a puzzle piece clicked into place and the revelation set my heart to pounding. How had I not seen it before? The answer had been right in front of me as I’d huddled in Rose’s sanctuary. A beauty far more bright than the noon’s cloudless light.

  Forty-Five

  I felt an urgency to return to Rose’s house at once, but if my calculations proved correct, we still had plenty of time. Rather than unveiling my revelation prematurely, I decided we should use the interval to explore Kroll Cemetery. Devlin sensed something was up. I could feel his curious gaze on me from time to time as we roamed the overgrown pathways.

  As the hour approached, I took his hand and led him back into the maze. I’d always had a reliable sense of direction and I seemed to have instinctively committed the layout to memory. We followed a northerly course and after a false turn or two, eventually came to the entrance that opened into Rose’s overgrown yard.

  “Have you been here before?” I asked as we stood gazing up at the house.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. We explored the ruins of the Colony pretty thoroughly back then, but I don’t remember stumbling across this place.”

  “It wasn’t part of the Colony. This was Rose’s house. Ezra allowed her to live here in exchange for tutoring the twins.”

  “I take it you’ve already been inside.” Devlin’s voice held a note of censure as he scanned the tumbledown structure. “Looks dangerous. No wonder Dr. Shaw was so worried. The whole place could have come down on top of you.”

  “It’s sturdier than it looks. Come on.”

  He followed me to the back of the house, where we paused once again so that he could reconnoiter. I could hear the eerie squeak of the weather vane on the outbuilding, and the sound raised goose bumps as my gaze dropped to the enclosure around the house. We seemed a million miles away from civilization, but I worried we weren’t alone.

  “Smells as though something crawled up under there and died.” Devlin hunkered down to peer between the steps. “That’s a st
range place for a gate. It’s barely accessible.”

  I tried to rub away the chill bumps. “It’s a strange place for a fence, if you ask me.”

  “It wasn’t uncommon to use the space beneath these old, raised houses for storage.” Before I knew what he was about, he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled up under the steps.

  “What are you doing?” I asked in alarm.

  “Just having a look around.” He withdrew the penlight from his pocket and angled the light toward the gate.

  “Can you see anything?”

  He voice came back muffled. “Not much. A bunch of boxes and trunks. Some kind of metal contraption.” He shook the fence. “There’s an old rusted lock on the gate.”

  “Please don’t try to get inside,” I said uneasily. “And please stop rattling the fence. No point in announcing our presence.” Although I had no doubt that if the malcontent lurked in the shadows beneath the porch, it was well aware of our arrival.

  Devlin backed out from under the steps and dusted his hands on his pants as he stood. “Relax,” he said. “There’s nothing under there that can hurt us.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I muttered.

  “Should I check all around the house? Would that put your mind at ease?”

  “Let’s just go inside. What time is it anyway?”

  “Almost eleven. Still over an hour until noon if you’re going by the poem.”

  “But we’re in daylight saving time. If I remember my state history correctly, South Carolina reverted to standard time after World War II. Which means if we were back in Rose’s day, the time would be nearing on noon. And as luck would have it, the sky is cloudless.”

  “So we are here because of the poem,” he said.

  “Yes, but the time doesn’t have anything to do with what happened at the Colony. I believe it’s a reference to what happens every day in Rose’s dark room. Dark room. Two words.”