by K. J. Emrick
“Reporters. Fantastic.” Vic grumbled under his breath as he paced quickly past them across the lawn, signaling a few of his officers to intercept Brianna and her cameraman.
“Well, at least she won’t be interviewing us.” Jon checked his watch as he said it and took Darcy by the hand. “Let’s get out of here while we still can.”
“Sounds good to me,” she agreed. The bones were still there, all of the empty skulls staring and smiling. It was enough to turn her stomach.
In Jon’s car, they sat with the windows down while Jon took a moment to hold Darcy and stroke her hair. He was so good about knowing when she was upset. Whenever life got hard, he was there for her. Even with all the changes that they had gone through since they’d found each other, Darcy knew that part would never change.
“I won’t let this derail our wedding plans,” he promised her. “Tonight, let’s go over to Helen’s bakery and have her help us pick a wedding cake.”
“Mmm. I like the sound of that. Think she’ll let us try samples?”
“She’d better. I’m thinking something with coconut.”
“Yuck,” Darcy laughed. “No coconut. How about a chocolate cake with chocolate fondant icing?”
“Fondant. Isn’t that the thick, heavy icing that looks like a sheet of plastic draped over the cake? Wouldn’t that be too fancy for our wedding?”
“Fancy? No, I don’t think—”
“Wedding?” a voice at the car window said, “I heard a rumor there was a marriage in your future, Jon.”
Brianna Watson leaned down to rest her elbows on the edge of the open driver’s window. She smiled at both of them, her eyes full of questions to come. “And Darcy Sweet, too. You two will make such a handsome couple. What brings you out here?”
Subtle, Darcy thought.
“I can’t comment on any ongoing investigations, Miss Watson,” Jon said. “You’re aware of that. Besides, this is a State Police scene. The man you want to talk to is Sergeant Vic Dunson. He’s right over there. Loves reporters, too, from what I heard.”
“Well now, doesn’t everyone?” Brianna purred when she said it, smiling like a cat about to pounce. “Funny thing. Dunson doesn’t want to talk to me. So I figured I would come over here and see if my two most favorite people in the world might know something they can pass on to me.”
Jon smiled back at her as he started the engine. “I have two words I can tell you.”
“Let me guess. No comment?”
“Now, Miss Watson, if you knew what I was going to say then why did you even ask the question?”
Brianna didn’t move from her perch. “Come on, Jon. It’s not like I can’t see the bones laid out over there and the CSU guys scrambling like ants at a picnic.”
“I’m not sure they wanted that released to the news yet,” Jon said.
“If they don’t want people to see it, maybe they should put up a roadblocks to keep traffic away.”
“They did,” Jon reminded her.
“Then better roadblocks.” Brianna shrugged. “A guy who lives nearby called the station when he saw it on his way home. Sloppy work, these State boys. Nothing like your department in Misty Hollow. How’s it going there, being the new chief and all?”
“Just like you’d expect when you have a change like that,” was Jon’s answer.
“Oh, I know what you mean. It was like that for me when I started reporting for EZTV. I love it, though. Get to see so much more now, do so much more. Still, it seems like everywhere I go, you two are there. Like now for instance.”
Darcy realized that despite Jon’s best efforts to shift the conversation, Brianna had managed to bring it right back to the scene here.
“Well, it was nice to see you again,” Darcy said as Brianna drew in a breath to ask her next question. “We have to go back to Misty Hollow. I’ll be watching for your report on TV.”
Jon put the car in drive, but even then Brianna waited a few more seconds before relenting and stepping back. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again,” she said. “You two are always around when there’s trouble. So am I. Call me first if you learn anything, all right?”
Jon waved, not so much an answer as a simple goodbye, and drove away.
“You couldn’t have gotten out of there any quicker?” Darcy checked the side mirror, half expecting Brianna Watson’s car to be following them, maybe with the cameraman hanging out the window recording their every move. There was nothing there, thankfully. “There is no way that woman is going to make me miss our cake tasting plans tonight. No way.”
“Maybe we should invite her to the wedding.”
“You aren’t serious?” Darcy rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine? She’d be interviewing all of the guests, looking for a mystery in the middle of the reception.”
“Yeah,” Jon agreed. “Have to admire her tenacity.”
“That’s one word for it. So. We’re not going straight home, are we?”
“You know me so well. We’ve got one more stop to make first.”
“The cemetery?”
Jon nodded, reaching out to find her hand again, and hold it tight.
Chapter Four
Applegate Road was one of those long, winding town roads that Misty Hollow had so many of. Actually, Darcy had never really been sure if it was part of the town. But she thought that at least part of it probably was. It was a scenic drive in the early afternoon sunshine, with the tree lined hills, and the calm waters of Eel Weir Brook flowing in and out of view at every bend.
There were a few houses out this way, but not many. Besides great spots to go fishing there was only one thing out on Applegate Road.
The cemetery.
From town the cemetery was only a half hour walk. Most of the way even had a sidewalk in place, although it was crumbling and the stones had heaved out of position after several years of winter frost. Darcy and Jon were coming in from the opposite end, the county road end. The long way around.
“We could have just gone back into town to get there,” she said, with her head back and her eyes closed. “It would have been quicker.”
“I know, but I’m enjoying the drive. It gives me more time with you.”
“To do what?”
She had a few ideas, but she liked his answer just as well.
“To talk about our wedding,” he said. “You’ve got your gown picked out, but I need to get tuxes rented for me and Aaron.”
“Are you sure you don’t want any other groomsmen besides my brother-in-law?”
“Hey,” he said, “Aaron is going to be my brother-in-law, too. Once removed? I’m not sure how that works. Besides, it’s not like I can ask my dad. Hard to come to a wedding if you’re in prison.”
“I know, but still. You must have friends from Meadowood or somewhere else.”
“I do. None of them really jump out when I think of people to stand up with me. I’m not going to ask someone just to have warm bodies on stage.”
She turned toward him, opening one lazy eye. “I know that. I was just asking. I have Grace as my matron of honor, but I also have Izzy as a bridesmaid. And her daughter is our flower girl. Oh! I know. You can have Connor be in it on your side. Wouldn’t that be cute?”
Jon considered the idea. “Yeah, it would. I like that kid. You don’t think Ellen would object? Seeing as how they’re both supposed to be in hiding, and all?”
“Good question. I don’t think she’s so worried about people seeing him. She was always careful to keep Connor away from her, uh, old job. It’s her face she worried about people recognizing.”
“Okay. We’ll ask her as soon as we get home. Cool idea, Sweet Baby.”
Darcy smiled. She would always like that nickname.
When they slowed down to turn off Applegate Road through a wrought iron gate, Darcy’s smile faded away. In general, she tried to avoid the cemetery. It was always a little loud for her.
The spirits of the dead anchored themselves to the living world at whatever p
lace they felt most tied to. Their home, usually. Their place of work, sometimes. Often the place they got stuck to was the location where they had died.
Sometimes, the deceased ended up tied to their grave. It was a lonely existence for them, as far as Darcy was able to determine. With no one coming to see them and no way to move on, some of the spirits became irrationally angry. Once they discovered that Darcy could see them and hear them and interact with them, they were drawn to her. Like gravity. It was a lot of emotion in one place for someone as sensitive to the other world as Darcy was.
There were little kids buried in this cemetery as well. That was the worst.
“You going to be okay?” Jon asked her, gently.
“Yes. Just stay close to me?”
“Of course. This will be quick. I want to get a look at the graves where the bodies were taken from. Maybe something will turn up.”
“Pun intended?” she asked.
“Uh, no. But look at it this way. The bodies aren’t even there anymore.”
She smiled, appreciating his effort to be cheerful. She knew better, though.
The bodies were gone. That didn’t mean the ghosts were.
They parked the car near the middle of the drive, where it came around to head back out again, and stepped out onto the neatly trimmed grass. The wrought iron fence bordered the whole property. Birds sang. Insects buzzed. Tree waved their branches in the breezes, their roots ringed with red mulch. The river was a distant rushing murmur. She could smell the warm scent of growing things just coming to life after a long winter. It was a beautiful day.
Around them, neatly ordered rows of headstones stood like silent sentinels, all of them waiting for Darcy to make a move.
She took a deep breath, and then Jon was standing there with her, his hand a comforting pressure on her back, his presence lending her strength. It was better with him there. It always was.
That’s when she saw the first of the gray shadows slipping between the graves.
She hesitated with her first step, and Jon patiently waited with her until she could move again. The shades had sensed her. They were waiting for her to come closer.
Someone to talk to, they whispered. Someone to hear us.
Maybe she imagined it.
Darcy knew from past trips that there was one far corner of the place that had headstones from the early 1800s and another corner, even older, where there was only flat stones on the ground with names carved on them. That wasn’t where they needed to go today. The ghosts there usually just sat, brooding, and Darcy had never been brave enough to try talking with them.
She couldn’t help them all. If she tried, she knew she’d end up going crazy. So she helped the ones she could. The ones who came to her for help. Or the ones that she met accidentally, like she did so often. Trouble had a way of finding her.
The church’s map of the burial plots showed where the Salvatore’s had been buried. Oscar and Florence had been laid to rest under a willow tree over by the fence line. It was a short walk from the car. Darcy saw shadows move, and kept close to Jon.
Last October, there had been a nasty encounter with a truly malevolent spirit. It had forever changed the way Darcy looked at ghosts. Not all of them were as friendly as Casper. Some of them could do real harm.
They passed stones that were ornately carved with pictures of lambs or Jesus or shining crosses, and simpler ones that were plain white granite with nothing more than the name of the deceased, their date of birth, and their date of birth. Some of the graves had little flags stuck in the ground beside them. Some had fake flowers in plastic vases. Different people, remembered in different ways.
On this side of the cemetery’s three acres, the stones were pretty tightly spaced. Enough distance between them for a six foot by six foot hole to be dug. The people using them wouldn’t need much more than that. The gardener’s shack stood over here as well. Darcy remembered it from her other trips out here. A tall and narrow outbuilding with a half-moon cutout in the door. It was only big enough to house the rakes and shovels and push mower that the cemetery association used to keep the grounds nice and neat.
The door was open this time and a young man was fighting with a rake that didn’t want to go back into its spot. When he saw Jon and Darcy he startled, his mouth open and his eyes wide.
“Sorry,” Jon called over to him. “We didn’t mean to spook you.”
“You can’t be here,” the young man said with a little too much bluster. Darcy saw just how young he was, not much more than a kid, now that they were closer. Probably not even out of his teens yet. He was sweating through a white t-shirt and the front of his blue jeans were just as caked with dirt as the heavy gloves he was wearing. He scratched at the hair plastered to his scalp. “Uh, unless you’re visiting a grave?”
Darcy couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. In this place, she’d spook easily, too. “Are you the caretaker?”
“Me? Oh. No. Definitely not. I’m sort of working here. Just finishing up for the day.” He finally shoved the rake into the shed and slammed the door shut before it could fall out again. Darcy heard it thunk against the door again as the kid set the padlock in place. Then he shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just wasn’t expecting anyone, you know?”
Jon let him off the hook by taking out his badge and displaying it. “It’s all right. I’m the police chief in town. We’re here for a good reason. What’s your name?”
It took him a minute to answer. Jon’s badge held his attention like a hypnotist’s watch. “Uh, Franklin Hobart. Sir. Call me Frank.”
“All right, Frank,” Jon said, putting the badge away. “Have you worked here long?”
“No. Just a few weeks.”
“Have you seen anyone suspicious hanging around? At night, maybe?”
Frank shook his head. “I don’t work nights. Just during the day. Three times a week. Gotta make my hours. Haven’t seen anyone suspicious.” His mouth had trouble with that word, like it was a foreign concept. “Everyone comes to visit the graves, and then leaves. Usually quiet here. Like a home game at Tiger Stadium. Are you looking for anyone specific like?”
“No, Frank. No one specific like.” Jon looked like he was considering asking more questions, but didn’t. “Thanks. We’re going to go over there for a little while, then maybe look around some more. I don’t suppose you have a map of the gravesites here?”
“A map? No, sir. Nothing like that.”
Jon thanked him. Frank took his gloves off and headed for the exit, obviously done for the day and in a hurry to leave. They let him go. A map was a good idea, though. Darcy thought maybe the church would have one. That way they wouldn’t have to search for the location of each grave one at a time in the Clerk’s records. For now, they just wanted to find the Salvatore’s graves and check them out.
“Here they are,” Jon said.
Kneeling down in the grass under the hanging branches of the willow tree Jon ran his hand across the two names on the thick white headstone. Oscar and Florence Salvatore. Beloved husband. Beloved wife. He was born in 1871. She was born in 1877. A six year difference in their age. Oscar’s date of death, July nineteenth, 1947. Florence’s date of death…
“Do you see that?” Jon asked Darcy.
The dates of death were identical. Little red flags flipped up in Darcy’s mind. They hadn’t just died in the same year or the same month, but on the same day.
Possibilities ran through her mind, none of the good. They could have met with an accident. A car crash. Poison.
Murder.
“Maybe this is why the bones were in Maven’s garage,” Darcy thought out loud. “Maybe she thought it was suspicious, too, and she was opening up an old case?”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Jon said, still kneeling and staring at the grave. “You saw what I had to do to get an order to exhume. Maven Sirles might have been the coroner but she would have to go through the same red tape I did.”
/> “She could have done it on her own,” Darcy suggested.
“Maybe. I won’t say it’s impossible, but we are talking about seven different boxes of bones here. Eight bodies, since Oscar and Florence were in the same box. Was she investigating all of them as suspicious deaths? If she was, where are her notes and her findings?”
“I see what you mean.” Darcy had to agree with Jon. There must be some other reason why Maven had those bones, and they needed to figure out what it was.
She sighed. There was a way she might be able to find out.
“I could ask them,” she said in a tiny voice.
Jon stood up with her, frowning. “Are you sure you want to do that?”
“I talk to the dead all the time, Jon.”
“Sure, sure. But I know it’s different for you here. If you start talking to the Salvatore’s, won’t that grab the attention of anyone else just, sort of, hanging around?”
He was offering her a way out. She could go home and try to do a communication in the comfort of her living room, with her candles and her books and her big brave tomcat to help her. The problem was she wouldn’t have as strong a connection to the Salvatore’s back home as she did right here. Not without a personal item of theirs to make a connection with.
The only thing of the Salvatore’s they had were the bones in the box and she was not—was not—going to hold someone’s skull while doing a communication.
The best bet they had of talking to the Salvatore’s was right here, right now.
“No, Jon. I’m fine,” she said. She had to be. “All we have is the bones, anyway…”
Hey, wait.
“Jon, the bones.” Darcy turned to look up into his eyes, bracing her hands on his chest. She was on to something. Maybe. “The bones in the boxes.”
“What about them?” he asked.
“There’s nothing else in the boxes, Jon. Just the bones.”
He blinked at her and shook his head. He didn’t understand.
“When someone gets buried,” she explained, slowly, as much for herself as for him, “they’re in a special suit or a dress. They wear shoes. They wear jewelry sometimes. Maybe even a personal item or two. But in these boxes…”