Grave Echoes: A Kate Waters Mystery (24 page)

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. “I don’t see any numbers anywhere.”

“They must be marked somehow so you can find out where someone is located,” Kate suggested.

“I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be kind of impersonal to see your loved one stamped with a bin number?”

“I suppose, but how else do you organize them?”

Sarah stopped at the intersection, looking down both corridors. “A map. Maybe they give out a map.”

“Look there.” Kate pointed at the top corner of an intersection. A brass plate had the letter D carved into it. “Each of the numbers in Jev’s book started with a letter. This must be row D.” She turned, looking at the other corners. “C, B…A must start on the other side.”

An unexpected boom echoed through the corridor, coming from the back end of the mausoleum. Kate and Sarah froze with cavernous eyes.

“Someone’s here,” Sarah whispered.

“Let’s go,” Kate said. They rushed to the front of the mausoleum, hiding behind one of the four pillars out front. “Do you see anyone?”

“No. Wait…over there.” Sarah motioned to a tomb at the far side of the cemetery. “I just saw a guy walk past the crypt over there.”

“Did he look threatening?”

“A child in a cemetery looks threatening,” Sarah replied. “Plus, he was dressed in all black.”

Like us, Kate pondered. “We need to get out of these bright lights. Follow me.” Kate headed down the steps of the mausoleum next to a monolith gravestone, the base almost as wide as the width of a car and at least the height of a mature cherry tree. Bending down on one knee, she peered around the cold, smooth structure. Sarah glanced around nervously, watching the road that wound through the cemetery. A man came into view.

“That’s him,” Sarah said.

The man walked as if he were late to work, disappearing and reappearing in between trees and gravestones. A black cap exposed the lower half of his face and the collar of a black trench coat greeted his wide, hairless chin.

Tuning into the clap of his shoes against the pavement, it seemed to Kate that he wasn’t afraid to be there. She ducked back behind the monolith with Sarah so he wouldn’t see them as he passed by. Sarah held her palms up in front of her, shoulders raised, silently questioning Kate what to do.

Kate pointed to the other side of the monolith. “That way,” she whispered.

Darting from tree to headstone, she and Sarah ran back down the hill towards the gate.

“I think we should leave,” Sarah said. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

Kate looked around. “Sounds good to me.”

The fog lifted, but a ghostly calm still shrouded the grounds. The swollen rectangular mounds of pungent dirt, garnished with fresh flowers chilled Kate’s thoughts, as haunting memories of Jev and her mother began to bury her. She bundled her sweater tighter around her neck. “Hurry,” she said to Sarah. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“At least you know what the numbers go to,” Sarah said as they approached the jeep.

Kate unlocked the doors. “Coffins,” she replied. “They go to coffin bins.”

“Well, what did you expect? It’s a key to a cemetery.” Sarah jumped in and locked her door.

A cemetery key, Kate mulled over—one that was going to open an even darker secret, one dark enough to murder for.

***

In the early morning hours, wet cold saturated the landscape, frosting everything in an icy breath. In no other place was it more pronounced than in a graveyard. Kate was back in the cemetery, alone. She didn’t know exactly what time it was, but the lights to the Mausoleum still shone bright in the darkness. She walked along the paved path, not really knowing why. Something pulled her.

The cold air tightened her chest and she exhaled forcefully. The grounds felt unnaturally quiet. Then, as if knowing her thoughts, a howl sounded in the distance. She stopped, searching for the direction of the howl. It came behind her.

Kate jogged towards the mausoleum, wondering what she would do when she reached it, since it didn’t exactly offer protection. The howl came again. Closer. The wolf found her scent—it was tracking her. She kept running, until another sound slowed her, the flapping of wings. She glanced over her shoulder where a horde of ravens swarmed overhead. Kate screamed and broke into a sprint, lengthening her stride to skip up the steps of the mausoleum. The birds rioted above. She headed into the marbled maze of bright halls. The birds didn’t follow her, but giant brown spiders dangled from the walls and in silken webs draped above her. She kept to the middle, not knowing what to do, where to go.

In her hand, she held the gold key. Her vision seemed to melt, like a mirage, and the grave bins suddenly turned into doors. Black doors with a red pentagram on the front of each and a gold lock in the center. Kate extended the key to the nearest door, her hand trembling and her heart in spasms. But before she could turn the key, a growl rumbled in the corridor. She wheeled around, finding herself face to face with the wolf. It crouched at the intersection, its mouth opened, snarling with wicked fangs. Blood dripped from its mouth in thick drools.

Kate gasped and tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. Then her arms fell limp. Oh no, she thought, it was happening again—sleep paralysis. Her whole body shook, as sometimes happened, and then she felt a hand grab her shoulder. A firm grip rocked her, and she opened her eyes, staring David in the face.

“Hey, it’s just a nightmare.” He smoothed back her bangs.

Kate looked around the room, welcoming the warm atmosphere of her bedroom. “It was the wolf,” she said.

“It’s just a dream.”

She sat up in bed. “It felt so real.” She turned to David. His face looked pale, maybe even thinner. “I want to apologize for leaving last night,” she said.

“I was worried. Where’d you go?”

“To work.”

He frowned. “Why?”

“I needed something stable.”

“Unlike us?” he said, with more disappointment than anger.

“I don’t know what to think anymore, David.”

“Can I tell you what I think?” he asked, squeezing her hand. “I think you’re dealing with a lot of pain, and you’re confused about what happened to your sister, and then when you throw in a change of residence and a new boyfriend, of course, everything is going to feel wrong.”

Kate felt a stab of guilt about her attraction to Eric. But David was right. It was no wonder she was so confused about everything.

“I want to be here for you, Kate, but you keep pushing me away.”

“Or scaring me away,” she replied. “Telling me my recently deceased sister is haunting us isn’t exactly comforting or romantic.”

David dipped his head. “All right. No more about ghosts.” He rubbed her arm. “Can we start over?”

She kissed him. “Yes. I would like to.”

He wrapped his arm around her. “So where were you tonight?”

Kate sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to be happy. “I found out the key belongs to Tryon Creek Cemetery, and some numbers Jev had written in a book might belong to casket bins at the mausoleum there.”

“How do you know?” His eyes deepened. “Unless you went there?”

“I didn’t go alone. I went with Sarah.”

“You should have called me.”

“You were working, and I needed to know what the key went to.”

“But we don’t even know who or what we’re dealing with, Kate.” He stood from the bed. “Jev died. Do you want to be next?”

She felt her emotions bubble up again. “I almost don’t care anymore.”

“Well, I do. I want to support you, but I can’t when you’re making reckless decisions. I need to know where you’re at and what you’re doing.” He pulled a T-shirt over his head. “You’re easy prey, Kate. You should have anticipated your run-in with the truck, and going to the cemetery with a girl friend is like walking into the lion’s den. You’re making bad decisions off of your emotions.”

“I’d like to think it’s instinct…something I thought you would admire,” Kate replied. He frowned at her. She redirected. “Maybe I am running off of my emotions, but that’s all I have anymore, because everything is falling apart around me. Even the damn mountain.”

David cupped her face in his hands. “Just promise me one thing?”

She looked up at him.

“Today, when you get off work, come home, and stay here until I get home.”

Kate nodded.

“Promise?” he said.

“I promise.”

Hunkering down is how Stewart referred to it, when laying low to prepare for disaster. It seemed Kate couldn’t escape it, at home or work, and she questioned what would get her first: the volcano or her sister’s murderer.

Everyone took their positions: Bruce, Sean, and Nicole gathered data, while Mark and Eric worked on the satellite imaging systems and software programs in efforts of collecting statistical data to construct several models of probable eruptions. Stewart, Aaron, and Kate reviewed and updated evacuation guidelines and contacted local and state authorities for emergency response procedures. Kate enjoyed Eric’s company, but this time, she tried not to let her attraction to him affect her. Having cleared the air between her and David gave her new hope for their relationship, and she wanted to give it a real chance to develop into something great. Besides, she had enough problems already, which, with all the excitement in the office, she’d forgotten about until Wells arrived. His gentle knock on the door went almost unnoticed in the clamor-filled atmosphere.

“Can I interrupt?” Wells asked, stepping around charts and bags strewn about the office floor. His eyes, though darkened by his western hat, were still visible to Kate, who watched them dart between her and Sean. Everyone stopped for a moment, acknowledging the visitor’s presence before hustling back to work.

“Come in, detective,” Kate said to him. She stood from her seat, as her insides sank with dread. Never mind the imminent threat of the volcano, which would eject thousands of cubic meters of ash and rock, produce lightning storms and pyroclastic clouds, and lahars that would cause severe flooding in surrounding rivers where thousands of people inhabited, Kate feared the reason for Wells’ visit more than anything else.

“Why don’t we talk on the porch,” she motioned to him. She could feel Eric’s eyes following her to the door.

Wells gestured for Sean to join them. “This may involve you too.”

The three of them stepped outside onto the porch, half of it still cluttered with equipment and backpacks.

“Kate, you don’t look so good,” Wells opened, evaluating her ragged shell of ripped jeans, dirty shoes, and baggy sweater.

“That obvious?” she remarked, trying to straighten her sleeves.

He shrugged. “I know it’s been tough lately.”

“You’re not here to make it tougher, are you?”

“That obvious?” he said, turning to the ravine that bordered the property at the edge of Forest Park. He searched for something, Kate thought, some way to present what he had to say.

“What is it?” Sean questioned him.

He looked back at them. “I took this job about twenty years ago after my brother was killed in gang-related crossfire. I wanted revenge—justice—and sought to put every criminal, offender, and low-life thug in jail. They still haven’t found my brother’s killer. The case sits in a cramped file drawer in a musty basement. The only thing I can do is avenge the meaningless deaths of others, hoping somewhere along the way, I’ve made a difference.”

“What are you trying to say?” Sean interrupted.

Wells shot him a hard look. “It’s about Donna Reynolds. Do you know her?” He looked to both of them.

“Yes,” Sean and Kate replied in unison.

“We just spoke the other night,” Kate said. “Why? What happened?” Panic, hot like magma, rose in her chest.

“Someone tried to kill Donna. She’s going to be okay, but she took quite a fall down the stairs in her apartment building.” Kate and Sean exchanged questioning looks. Wells continued. “Her apartment complex caught fire Monday night, and fire experts believe it started in her unit.”

“That’s terrible,” Kate exclaimed.

“But what does that have to do with Jev?” Sean said.

“We believe someone pushed her down the stairs and started the fire to cover something up, maybe even an attempt on Donna’s life.”

Kate heard his words in fragmented segments—pushed, stairs, fire, attempt on Donna’s life—and then grabbed a hold of the deck railing to steady herself. “Somebody tried to murder Donna?” she said, still trying to register his words.

“Fire investigators are still sifting through the evidence, but it seems credible.”

“Have you talked to her?” Sean asked.

“No. She is unconscious. Stable, but unconscious.”

Sean crossed his arms. “How do you know she didn’t just fall?” He leaned to the side, as if scrutinizing Wells’ facts.

“There were signs of a struggle in her apartment.” He returned Sean’s cold stare.

Whether for official reasons or his own, Kate speculated, Wells didn’t elaborate. She rubbed the sides of her skull, remembering how Donna had given her a protection bracelet—one that was hers, and ironically, she had been the one in danger. With nauseating clarity, Kate realized Donna’s accident was her fault…the pick-up truck outside the shop…She’d brought her troubles straight to Donna’s doorstep.

“The driver of the pickup truck,” Kate began to say, “at Donna’s shop the night I went to visit her. He must have gone after her?”

“Could be.” Wells turned to Sean. “Do you know how close Jev and Donna were?”

“I don’t know. She said they were blood sisters once.”

Kate sensed something behind his comment. Jealousy?

“Is that a bonding they do in the coven?” Wells asked him.

“Hell if I know.”

“So you’re claiming not to have known anything about your girlfriend’s social life?” Wells challenged.

“No detective. I didn’t. Jev didn’t tell me things about her witchcraft because of some secrecy bullshit pact.” He dug for a cigarette in his pocket.

Definitely jealousy, Kate thought again. But hadn’t she felt the same after discovering Jev’s witchcraft? It seemed her sister kept something from everyone. “Is Donna going to wake soon?” Kate asked, trying to shift Wells’ attention from Sean to her.

Wells peeled his eyes from Sean. “Doctors predict by tonight or tomorrow morning,” he said. “She’s pretty heavily sedated right now, recovering from a broken rib that punctured her right lung, a smashed collar bone, and a substantial contusion on the back of her head.” Kate winced. “Fortunately, they expect her to make a full recovery.” Wells’ gaze swung back to Sean.

“Why would someone want to kill Donna?” Kate thought, aloud.

“That’s why I’m here.” He retrieved his notebook from his brown leather jacket. “Since she was friends with your sister, I suspect we’re dealing with the same individual who has been following you. When did you last see her?” he asked Kate again.

“Sunday night.”

“Was that the same night you saw the pickup truck?”

“Yes.” She noticed Sean staring off into the parking lot, seemingly to solve his own riddles. He hadn’t believed her story about being followed, and she wondered if he did even now. Like David, he seemed to be on his own path.

“What exactly did you two talk about?”

Kate remembered exactly what they’d talked about. “Jev. I wanted to know what kind of spell she was going to do the night of her accident. Donna had left a message with Jev about some herbs for a protection spell. I hoped maybe Jev might have mentioned someone’s name to her.”

Wells scribbled in his notepad. “Donna didn’t know anything?”

“No. She knew Jev was going to do a protection spell but was shocked to find out it was a binding spell.”

“Sean, do you know what a binding spell is?”

“I didn’t get involved in Jev’s witchcraft. That was her thing.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“A protection spell.” Sean scoffed, lighting up his smoke.

“A specific type of protection spell performed on someone who is a danger to others or themselves,” Wells clarified. “When was the last time you saw Donna?”

Sean’s eyes narrowed as he exhaled. “A few weeks ago, I think.”

“And what about Thea?”

“Thea? About the same. Why?”

“Did you know her dog died?”

“Heard something about it.”

Wells looked down at Sean’s arm. Kate followed his eyes, surprised she hadn’t noticed it before. Underneath his shirtsleeve, a band of gauze stuck out, taped to protect what looked like a relatively large wound. “What’d you do to your arm?” he questioned.

“Scraped it on a muffler.”

“You working on a car?” Wells asked.

“An old '67 Mustang.”

“She start?”

“Like a dream.”

“You working on her Monday night?”

Sean paused with what looked like irritation splayed across his face. His jaw tightened. “Yeah, actually I was.”

“Alone?”

“That’s how I like it.” Confidence dominated his stance now as he casually shifted his weight to the other foot and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

Wells gave a nod and then took off his hat to scratch his forehead.

Daylight shone on Wells’ face, and Kate noticed the dark bags beneath his eyes. He wasn’t looking so hot either, she thought. He stuffed his notebook and pen back into his coat.

“Say Kate, could I get a word with you?” Wells stepped from the deck.

Kate followed him to his car, shrugging at Sean as she left.

Wells stood with his back to Sean. “I really think you should stay somewhere else. I know you don’t want to put anyone else in danger, but there would be less danger to them than to you being alone.”

Kate thought about Sarah, but she had a young son, and Kate refused to involve him. “I thought we’d agreed I was fine at home with David,” she stressed. “It’s my fault Donna is in the hospital.”

“It’s not your fault and it also happens to be all the more reason for you not to stay home.” He glanced back at Sean and opened his jacket, revealing a gun attached to his belt. “You have one of these?”

“I also thought we’d concluded Sean was innocent?”

“We simply don’t know who is doing this, Kate. Besides, nobody is truly innocent until someone is proven guilty.”

“He had the perfect opportunity to kill me if it was ever his intention. But he saved my life instead—I trust him now.” She folded her arms, finalizing her decision.

“Regardless, someone is after you. You should stay somewhere else.”

“David is going to be home tonight. I’ll be fine.” She resented Wells’ scare tactic because the truth behind it did scare her. Even though she didn’t want to abandon good judgment, she didn’t want to run anymore either. She’d also promised David she would come straight home after work and stay there. That’s what she planned on doing.

“I’ll have a car drive by your house tonight then, just to make sure everything’s all right.”

“That’s not necessary,” she replied.

“Just concur with me,” he said, frankly.

To appease him, she nodded. He jingled his keys in his pocket, gave her a wink, and saluted Sean with two fingers from the rim of his hat. Sean didn’t wave back.

Kate walked up to Sean on the porch as Wells drove off. “Don’t be mad; he’s just doing his job.”

“Right,” he said in a sarcastic tone.

“I believe you. I trust you.”

He looked down at her. She expected him to say something, but he just looked at her with blank, hard eyes.

“I do,” Kate repeated.

***

The tavern was as he remembered it, inviting and mildly busy. Wells searched the bar for Thea, disappointment surfacing when he couldn’t find her. Maybe she was on break, he thought, wandering over to the counter. A tall, lanky boy without a smile served him a bourbon on the rocks. He didn’t even seem old enough to be in the bar.

“You starting a tab?” he asked.

“No.”

“Five-fifty.”

He reached for his wallet, took out a twenty, and handed it to the boy. “Is Thea Wright working tonight?”

“She had to leave, said she’d be back later,” the boy replied, keying at the register. He handed Wells his change.

“Do you know when?”

The boy was about to turn away and stopped. “Are we playing the dating game, mister?” The flash of Wells’ badge wiped the smirk off his face. “Sorry man, I just figured you were trying to pick up on her.”

“Yeah, well I have a feeling I’m not her type.”

The kid actually did have a smile and used it. “She said an hour—so, translation, probably two,” he said.

“Do you know where she went?”

The boy shrugged. “Can’t help you there.”

Wells took a sip of bourbon, scouting out the people in the bar. “You get mostly regulars in here?”

“That’s most of our clientele, people coming back from the warehouse or the hospital, avoiding trouble at home, you know?” He gave Wells a knowing kind of grin.

Wells nodded. “Have you noticed anyone unusual lately? Maybe a new customer?”

“No, not really.”

While the boy helped other customers, Wells scouted the bar, for what, he wasn’t sure. The only description of their murder suspect was a man in a black-hooded sweatshirt from the video tapes recovered at the Cherrywood Condominiums. There weren’t any black trucks in the parking lot when he came in and everyone in the bar seemed to fit that description.