The Restorer

by Amanda Stevens

  He called Daniel’s name once, twice, and then he fired.

  I lay sprawled on the ground, head spinning.

  The paramedics had arrived on the scene. One of them applied pressure to my arm while the others worked on Daniel, but they were too late. I knew the second he died. I saw his spirit drift away, still bound to the ghost of Clayton Masterson. For all eternity.

  And then from the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a dark silhouette emerging from the edge of the woods. Then another and another, until they surrounded and engulfed the two ghosts.

  The shadow men had not come for me after all. They had come for Daniel Meakin.

  My arm would need stitching, but for now the bleeding was under control. I sat at the back of the EMT van, my gaze riveted on Devlin, until I spotted a familiar face lurking in the background. It was odd to me that no one paid him any attention, but then I remembered why.

  I walked toward him, a little unsteady from the painkillers. “You were down there with me, weren’t you? You showed me the way out.” He and Shani had saved me. “Why?”

  I could feel his icy gaze on me through his dark glasses. “Because I mean to have justice,” said the murdered cop. “And you’re the only one who can help me.”

  “Amelia?”

  I turned as Devlin walked up beside me. He stared at me with a strange look on his face. “Who were you talking to?”

  I glanced around. No one was there.

  He put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” I said with a shiver. “But I will be.”

  I wanted to ask how he’d found me tonight, but at the moment, it seemed too much trouble. I had a feeling Robert Fremont had played some role. I shuddered to think what his ghost wanted from me, but that was a worry for another day. Right now, I wanted to savor my moment with Devlin.

  I laid my head against his chest and he held me so tenderly I wanted to weep.

  But the moment was fleeting. Twilight was upon us and his ghosts were waiting.

  EPILOGUE

  Days later, I still didn’t understand how Devlin had found me that night. He said they’d tracked my cell phone signal to the mausoleum, but I didn’t see how that was possible when I’d been so far underground. I couldn’t shake the notion that Robert Fremont had somehow been instrumental in leading Devlin to me, just as he and Shani had guided me out of the chamber. I was indebted to him, but the thought of what he would require of me made my blood run cold.

  So many questions…so many mysteries…

  I left it all behind to recuperate in Trinity with my parents. I was there for a week and on my first day back home, I dug up the tiny ring I’d buried in the garden and drove down to Chedathy Cemetery, where I placed it in the center of the cockleshell heart. I suppose I meant it as some sort of thank you or maybe even a farewell, but I had a feeling I would be seeing the ghost child again.

  Devlin drove up as I was leaving. If he thought it strange to find me there, he didn’t say so. I waited for him at the edge of the cemetery and he caught my hand as he walked by. We stood there for a long moment—I on my way out, he on his way in. I tried to pull away, but he held on to me.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened that night?” His gaze burned into mine. “Why did you run away from me?”

  I shivered and glanced away. “Someday I’ll explain. But not now. It’s not our time.”

  He didn’t question me because I think he knew it, too. He had his ghosts and I had my demons.

  I slid my fingers from his and walked back to the car.

  Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw him standing at the edge of the cemetery looking forlorn, but not alone. Mariama and Shani were on either side of him, their ghosts as intrinsic to him as my loneliness was to me.

  But this was not to be a final goodbye. Our story was not yet finished.

  I couldn’t know at that moment, but somewhere out there, a hidden grave awaited my discovery and I would soon become more determined than ever to uncover my father’s secrets.

  Directing my gaze to the road, I drove off into the twilight.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-0155-2

  THE RESTORER

  Copyright © 2011 by Marilyn Medlock Amann

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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