Twenty-Six
I noticed a third curiosity as I moved toward the desk—drops of blood on the surface near the music box. I didn’t know if they had been there before or not. I’d been in shock over my discovery and might well have missed them. Now I wondered if the blood had dripped from Jonathan Devlin’s wound before he fell or if the killer had sustained an injury during the struggle.
Still taking care not to touch anything, I knelt beside the body to see if the locket might have slipped from his hand rather than been taken. As I scanned the room for any other anomalies, I unlocked my phone to call 911. I had my finger on the phone icon when I realized once again that I wasn’t alone in the house. The drops of blood and the missing locket had distracted me and I’d grown careless. I’d been too certain the killer had already fled the scene.
I couldn’t see the door, but I had a sense that someone hovered on the threshold. A few steps inside the room and I would be discovered. If I tried to flee, the intruder would be on me. My best bet was to remain still. Maybe the killer wanted one last look at the crime scene before he bolted. Maybe he’d flee without coming over to the desk.
Strange that I should think of the murderer as male when the clues had a distinct feminine touch. The missing locket, the music box, even the choice of a murder weapon—a letter opener grabbed in the heat of the moment. A male assailant could easily have subdued his frail victim, taking him out in any number of ways, including strangulation or blunt-force trauma. There was something about that letter opener that spoke of a crime of passion.
All of this spiraled through my head in the space of a heartbeat as I caught my breath and waited. In that interminable silence, I tried to focus on sounds and scents, anything that might give away the killer’s identity, but fear blunted my senses. The only thing that came to me was the smell of Jonathan Devlin’s blood, so strong I could taste it on my tongue.
The room had grown warm despite the open French door. Sweat beaded on my brow and my muscles started to tremble. I didn’t know how much longer I could remain immobile.
Why would the killer linger so nonchalantly without fear of being caught? Unless the person knew that Jonathan would be all alone for the evening. Unless my presence had already been detected.
My muscles screamed for relief as a drop of perspiration roll down the side of my face. I didn’t dare wipe it away.
I still clutched my phone, but it was useless because a lit screen would shine like a beacon in that dim room.
As I huddled there trying to wait out the killer, a whispery sound came to me and then another and another. Soft footfalls moved quickly across the thick rug.
Fueled by panic, my instincts took over and I scrambled to my feet to dash for the open French door. A strong arm snagged me from behind and a hand clapped over my mouth. It was a repeat of the night before, complete with Devlin’s drawl in my ear. “Stop. It’s me.”
I went still and he let me go at once. I whirled to find him staring down at his grandfather’s body.
“What happened?” he asked in a ragged voice.
“I don’t know. I found him like this.”
“You found him.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “What are you even doing here?”
“Your grandfather invited me.”
His tone sharpened. “My grandfather invited you here?”
“Yes. I know it sounds strange, but he’s been seeking me out. He came to Woodbine Cemetery only this morning.”
“Seeking you out? Why?”
“He said he needed my help.”
“With what?”
I hesitated. “That will take some explaining and we really should call the police. But I need you to know...” A hint of desperation crept into my voice. “I swear to you, I had nothing to do with this.”
“I never thought you did.”
Relief swept over me. “You believe me? Just like that?”
A frown flitted. “Of course I believe you. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I must be the last person you expected to find here. And aren’t you wondering how I got in?”
“I assume you came in through the front door. It wasn’t locked.”
“Yes, but no one let me in. I just...entered. You don’t find that suspect?”
“You said you were invited. I believe you. Why are you working so hard to arouse my suspicion? Is there something you need to tell me?”
“No. Not about this.”
“Then we’ll talk about the rest later. We’ve other things to worry about at the moment.”
He knelt then, sweeping his gaze over the body and around the room. He seemed very cool and collected—not at all the expected behavior of a stunned and grieving grandson. But then, he’d been a police detective for many years. His training and instincts wouldn’t evaporate overnight. At least that’s what I told myself.
“Did you touch anything?” he asked.
“Just the desk. There.” I pointed to the corner. “I was about to call 911 when you came in. I thought you were the killer returning to the scene of the crime. That’s why I stayed hidden. But someone was here before you. They took something from the bo—From his hand.”
Devlin’s head came up. “What was taken?”
“When I found him, he was clutching a gold locket. The chain was broken as if it had been snapped from someone’s neck. I heard footsteps in the hallway and so I slipped through the door to hide in the garden. When I came back, the locket was gone and the lid on the music box was closed. And I saw those drops of blood on the desk. Maybe they belong to the killer. He or she may even have left prints on the music box.”
“You didn’t get a look at this person?”
“No, I couldn’t see anything from the garden. But I thought I heard the front door close and then footsteps out on the sidewalk. A few moments later, a car started up down the street.” I hesitated as I studied his face. “You didn’t see anyone when you came in?”
“No. I must have just missed him.”
“Or her.”
Devlin glanced up. “Or her.”
He rose so quickly I took an instinctive step back and caught my breath. I wasn’t afraid of him and yet there was something about his conduct that set off an alarm. I told myself he was probably in shock. I was. And he was undoubtedly thrown by finding me here.
But I couldn’t help remembering my earlier conversation with the elder Devlin and his insinuation about Mariama and Shani. My first thought then had been of Devlin’s reaction should he ever find out of his grandfather’s complicity in his daughter’s death.
I shoved all that to the back of my mind as I glanced down at Jonathan Devlin’s body.
“We should call the police,” I said again.
“I’ll handle the police,” Devlin said. “You need to go. You shouldn’t be found here.”
Something echoed. A remnant of a dream came back to me. You don’t belong here.
He stood very close. I had my back to the French doors and I told myself the cool breeze blowing in had raised the chill bumps on my arms. The way the fragile light struck his face caused the strange glow in his eyes.
I was overreacting. He was still Devlin. My Devlin. But we hadn’t been together for a very long time and I no longer knew him—if I ever really had.
I hugged my arms around my middle because I was still shivering and because I needed to do something.
“I can’t flee the scene of a crime,” I said. “You know better than anyone how that would look. And besides...you shouldn’t be here alone.”
I’d barely known Jonathan Devlin. I hadn’t liked or trusted him. He’d been a cold, ruthless man and he’d done bad things, probably more than I would ever know. But no one deserved this. And Devlin shouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath alone.
The backs of my eyes burned as I said quietly, “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you had to see him like this.”
Devlin’s reaction to my sympathy surprised me yet again. “Did anyone know you were coming here? Did anyone see you enter the house?”
“I didn’t tell anyone, but there were people on the street...tourists...”
“You didn’t notice anyone watching you?”
He’d taken hold of my arms and I winced as his grasp tightened and his fingertips inadvertently dug into my flesh. “No, but we can’t hide my whereabouts from the police. They’ll find out. You know they will.”
“They won’t find out. Not if you do as I say. You have to trust me. I know what I’m doing.” His grip eased as he searched my face. “The last thing I’d ever do is knowingly put you in harm’s way. You believe that, don’t you? I’m trying to protect you.”
“But why do I need protecting? I didn’t do anything.”
“There’s more to this than you know and I don’t have time to explain. We have to get you out of here so I can call it in. There’ll be questions, a lot of them, and I’ll have to give a statement. I don’t know how long it’ll take. If I don’t see you later tonight, just keep quiet until we can talk. Make sure your doors and windows are locked and keep Angus nearby.”
I stared up at him with widened eyes. “You’re scaring me.”
“I want you to be scared so that you won’t be tempted to do something foolish. Now go. I’ll call the police as soon as you’re safely away. Go through the garden and make sure you aren’t seen leaving through the gate.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips across my forehead. His fingers slid up and tangled in my hair, and as our gazes locked, I forgot that Devlin was a betrothed man.
For one breathless moment, I even forgot about the dead body at our feet.
Twenty-Seven
For the next few hours, I paced. From my office to the kitchen. From the kitchen to the front window and then back to my office. For a while, Angus had followed at my heels, but then he’d tired and watched me forlornly from his bed in my office.
At some point, I fixed a cup of tea and carried it out to the garden while he moseyed around the flower beds. I felt bad for not giving him a proper walk, but I didn’t want to stray too far from the house. As soon as we went back inside, I resumed my pacing.
Finally around midnight I stretched out on the chaise and managed to doze off, but I’d only been asleep for a few minutes when I heard a tap at my front door. I rose silently, padding on bare feet down the hallway and then pausing in the foyer before I crossed over to the door. What if the evil had returned, softly this time so as to lull me into letting down my guard?
I reached down and smoothed my hand along Angus’s backbone to see if his hair was ruffled. He appeared alert but not overly excited and so I called out, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.”
I recognized the drawl even through the door, but I glanced through the peephole before letting him in.
Devlin entered quickly, bringing a cool draft of night air with him. “What happened here?” he asked with a scowl as he nodded toward the gouges on the porch.
“Another long story,” I said. “And I believe we have more pressing business at the moment.”
He traced a finger along one of the scratches on his cheek where the marks from my nails remained. “Yes,” he said with an odd note in his voice. “It seems we have a lot to talk about.”
I hadn’t turned on the foyer light, but enough illumination streamed in from the hallway to highlight his features. He seemed on edge, and the gleam in his eyes made me shiver.
I said on a breath, “What happened after I left? You called the police?”
“They came.” Absently, he reached down to give Angus a pat. “This may be a long night. We should probably settle in. And I could use a drink if you have something stronger than tea.”
He followed me out to the kitchen, where I retrieved the bottle of whiskey I’d bought the previous winter to make hot toddies for a bad cold. I served it neat and he didn’t complain. He carried his drink to the kitchen table and sat down. I followed with the bottle and another glass. I had never acquired a taste for hard liquor, but it was one of those nights.
I poured some into my glass and sipped tentatively. I still didn’t care for the taste, but the fortifying burn helped to calm me. “Tell me what happened with the police,” I said.
He shrugged. “It was mostly routine.”
“Mostly?”
Now that I could see him clearly, I noted the fatigue in the lines around his eyes and the exhaustion that pulled his mouth into a thin, hard line. His beard was thicker than I’d ever seen it and the curl of his hair at his nape took my breath away. I sipped again, bracing myself now against the impact of his nearness.
“They came, they asked questions and they examined the crime scene.”
“Did you have to go to headquarters to give a statement?”
“Not yet, but I will. I spoke at length with the detectives, though. They know they can count on my cooperation.”
“I’m sure they do. Did they find anything useful? Do they have any suspects?”
“We’ll get into all of that later, but right now I want to hear your story. You said you went to the house because my grandfather asked you to.”
“Yes. I’ll tell you everything I know, but some of this may not be easy for you to hear. I don’t know how skeptical you remain...” I paused. “All I ask is that you keep an open mind. There can’t be any more secrets between us.”
“I agree. No more secrets.”
I drew a breath and began. “I first spoke with your grandfather two mornings ago in White Point Garden. He was waiting for me in a spot where I sometimes go to think or watch the sunrise. He had had me followed and researched to the point where he could surmise where I would be that morning. That is a very deep investigation,” I said.
Devlin showed not the slightest hint of emotion. “Grandfather was nothing if not thorough.”
“You don’t seem surprised. Did you know about his investigation?”
“If I’d known, I would have shut it down. Or tried to. It wasn’t until this past year that I had any influence on Grandfather. And not much even then. He was a stubborn man until the bitter end.”
“I gathered as much. Stubborn and persistent. He told me there was very little he didn’t know about me, including where I came from and who my people were. He even knew about my gift.”
“Your gift?”
I wavered. Coming clean was no easy thing for someone who had kept secrets for most of her life. “I think you know what he meant. Even if he didn’t tell you about his findings, you surely had suspicions after Kroll Cemetery.”
Devlin returned my scrutiny for the longest time, and then placing his arm on the table, he leaned toward me. “I have suspicions. I’ve had them for a long time. But I need to hear you say it.”
“I see things. I hear things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Things that are not of this world. Ghosts, entities, beings that are no longer alive, but not altogether dead. I call them in-betweens.”
He looked taken aback by my honesty. “Do you see them now?”
“No. This house is built on hallowed ground. It protects me.”
“How long—”
“Since childhood. I saw my first ghost when I was nine years old. I didn’t really understand what was happening to me until Papa explained about our sight. He told me the ghosts were dangerous and he taught me ways to protect myself. Rules that I lived by for the longest time. But now...” I trailed away. “My journey is another long story. I could go on and on and one of these days I’d like to tell you the rest. I meant what I said about secrets. But how
I came to this point doesn’t really matter. Suffice to say that Papa’s rules can no longer protect me. The ghosts come to me now. They want things from me.”
“Like what?”
“It varies.”
He shook his head as if still trying to take it all in. “You see things, you hear things...”
“As do you,” I said. “Remember Kroll Cemetery?”
He passed a hand across his face. “I remember Kroll Cemetery, but I still don’t know what I saw there. I tried to convince myself that the shadow in the cottage was just that—a shadow. And the woman I saw in the flames at Rose’s house was an illusion. But those lights... I couldn’t find an explanation for the lights no matter how hard I tried.”
“What lights?”
He stared at me for a moment. “The lights that came out of the woods. They floated up out of the trees, dozens of them and they seemed to enter you, to pass right through you.” He took another swig of his whiskey. “Is that what happened?”
“I can’t explain what happened. You saw lights... I saw the ghosts of those buried in Kroll Cemetery. I think uncovering their killer somehow released them, but it was as if they had to pass through me to get to the other side. I’ve never experienced anything like it before or since. I don’t always know what my purpose is...if I have a purpose. Sometimes the entities use me as a conduit to the living world. Sometimes they need me to solve old mysteries or to help take care of unfinished business. But mostly they want to feed off my warmth and energy so they can feel human again. It can be terrifying.”
“And you’ve lived with this terror since childhood?”
“Yes.”
“You never told me.” I heard the deepest regret in his voice.
“You wouldn’t have believed me until Kroll Cemetery. And then you didn’t give me a chance. You said—”
“I know what I said.”
I had to glance away from those dark, probing eyes. I clasped my fingers together because my hands were suddenly trembling. “Anyway, your grandfather somehow found out about my gift and that’s why he came to me. He said there was a ghost in his house. He wanted me to try and make contact so that we could find out what she wanted and make her go away.”
The Awakening Page 22