The Restorer (12 page)

“My wife was one of Rupert Shaw’s students,” he said quietly. And with that, he turned and walked away.

ELEVEN

A
million questions swirled in my head—about Devlin’s wife, about his ghosts—but I kept them to myself as I watched him walk back over to Regina Sparks. Perhaps I wasn’t yet ready for those answers. Maybe I still harbored some notion that if he remained a stranger, I could keep my distance from him.

Nothing could have been further from the truth, of course, because despite everything, our destinies were already intertwined. We just didn’t know it.

With some effort, I turned my thoughts to other things as I walked back to my car. I didn’t know what to make of the information I’d learned about Afton Delacourt, but I was beginning to fear the worst. I didn’t see how the discovery of three bodies in the same cemetery could be unrelated, no matter the gap in time. However, if the skeletal remains turned out to be original to the grave, then I could more readily buy two bodies—Afton’s and the recent murder victim—being coincidental. As Devlin had pointed out, fifteen years between discoveries was a lot of time and an abandoned cemetery wasn’t an uncommon dumping ground.

The only certainty I’d gleaned from any of Devlin’s revelations was his disregard for Rupert Shaw. As far as I was concerned, his assessment couldn’t have been further off the mark.

I’d met Dr. Shaw shortly after my arrival in Charleston. Someone had sent him the Samara video and he’d contacted me through my blog. We’d kept in touch via email and the occasional dinner ever since. It was through one of his research associates that I’d found the house on Rutledge Avenue. For that reason alone, I was inclined to have a favorable opinion of him, regardless of what Devlin thought.

Emerging from the tall weeds onto the road, I hustled over to my SUV to retrieve my phone. It was lodged between the seat and console, where it must have slipped from my pocket earlier as I pulled on my boots.

Temple wasn’t in her office, so I left a brief voicemail explaining the situation and asked her to call me back as soon as she got the message.

As I closed the car door, I noticed a man leaning against the vehicle parked in front of mine. In spite of the over-cast sky, he wore sunglasses and held his head in such a way that I couldn’t see his face straight on. But I recognized him at once. He was the man I’d seen on the Battery the day before.

And now here he was at Oak Grove.

I glanced up the road, where a uniformed officer stood talking on the radio outside his cruiser. The occasional burst of static from the transmission assured me that he was close enough to hear me scream, should I feel the need.

The newcomer lifted his head slightly as I walked to the front of the SUV. “Amelia Gray?”

A warning bell sounded. “How do you know my name?”

“I read about you in the paper,” he said. “I’m Tom Gerrity.” Instead of shaking my hand, he folded his arms and crossed his feet at the ankles as he leaned back against the vehicle. He appeared to be very much at ease. I couldn’t say the same for myself.

“Have we met?”

“No, but I’ve seen you around.”

“Like on the Battery yesterday morning?”

A smile flashed. “I’m flattered you remember.”

I shot another look at the cop. He was still on the phone. Still within screaming distance.

I could feel Gerrity’s gaze on me. It was disconcerting not being able to look into his eyes. The part of his face that I could see was very attractive. He was even more handsome than Devlin, but he didn’t possess Devlin’s dangerous allure, so therefore, he posed no threat to the rules.

Fate had a very strange sense of humor, I decided. The first man in forever that had ignited my carnal spark and he had to be haunted.

But I couldn’t worry about that now. Tom Gerrity had been following me and I needed to find out why.

“What do you want, Mr. Gerrity?”

“Direct and to the point,” he said. “I like that. What I want, Miss Gray, is a conduit into the police department.”

I stared at him with open suspicion. “A conduit? Are you a reporter? Do you expect me to leak information to you about the investigation? Because that’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not a reporter. And I’m not after information. I want you to give John Devlin a message for me.”

I nodded in the direction of the gates. “He’s still inside the cemetery. You can tell him yourself.”

“There’s a guard at the gates. I’d never be allowed through.”

“But if you have information—”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m persona non grata with the Charleston PD these days.”

I shooed away a fly buzzing around my face. “Why is that?”

“Let’s just say, cops and P.I.s don’t mix. Devlin won’t see me and he’d never take my call. I need you to be my go-between.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I know who the victim is.”

The revelation caught me off guard and I gaped at him.

“Her name was Hannah Fischer,” he said. “Her mother asked me to find her.”

“Find her? Was she missing?”

During this whole time, he had remained in the same pose. Arms folded, ankles crossed, head tilted. I wondered how he could remain so static.

“Last Thursday, the day before that big storm, Mrs. Fischer found Hannah in her room packing. The girl looked as if she hadn’t slept or bathed in days. It was obvious she’d been hiding out from someone, but she wouldn’t say who. She didn’t want to put her mother in any danger. She asked for enough money to disappear, insisting that was the only way either of them would be safe. Mrs. Fischer gave her all the money she had on hand and the keys to her car. Hannah fled and I’ve been looking for her ever since. Until a couple of days ago, the trail had gone stone cold.”

“How can you be so sure it’s her? The newspaper account didn’t give a description.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Call it a hunch, an instinct. My grand mother would tell you it’s a gift. All I can say is that I’m never wrong about these things.
Never.
That’s why they call me the Prophet.”

Gooseflesh popped at my nape. “Do you know who killed Hannah Fischer?”

“That’s something you’ll have to figure out.”

“You don’t mean me literally, I hope.”

“Hannah Fischer’s body was left in that grave for a reason. Find the reason, find the killer.”

“I’m not a detective.”

“But you know cemeteries. And that just might be the key.”

Not a very comforting thought.

The jarring sound of my ringtone startled me so badly I jumped. Reluctantly, I took my eyes off Gerrity to check the display. It was Temple returning my call.

“I have to take this,” I said. “Is there anything else you want me to tell Devlin?”

“The last time anyone saw Hannah alive, she had on a white sundress with red and yellow flowers. You can tell him that.”

I put the phone to my ear and walked around to the back of my car so that Gerrity wouldn’t overhear what I had to tell Temple.

“Thanks for calling me back so soon,” I told her.

“Sounds like you have a real mess on your hands.”

“All I can tell you for certain is that a pre–Civil War grave is about to be disturbed for an exhumation. I thought you’d want to be here for that.”

“I do, but…hold on a second.” She said something unintelligible and I heard excited voices in the background.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“Your neck of the woods, on one of the islands. We’re excavating a possible burial mound out here. Just turned up some pretty interesting artifacts so I won’t be able to get to the cemetery today.”

“Tomorrow?”

“I’ll do my best. Who do I contact to coordinate?”

“John Devlin at Charleston PD, but they’re also calling in a forensic anthropologist named Ethan Shaw.”

“I know Ethan. I’ll give him a ring as soon as we hang up. In the meantime, why don’t you buy me dinner tonight and tell me what you’ve been up to? Besides getting yourself involved in a murder investigation.”

We agreed on a time and place and hung up. When I walked back around to the front of my car, Tom Gerrity had vanished.

I checked the road in both directions, didn’t see him, and started back to the cemetery. I was halfway to the gates when I had the strangest sensation of being watched.

Glancing over my shoulder, I almost expected to find Gerrity on the path behind me, but no one was there. I saw no movement at all except for the swirl of foxtail grass seeds near the woods. I admired the snow-globe effect for a moment, then continued on.

A dozen steps later, I experienced the sensation again.

My senses on high alert, I monitored my surroundings with sidelong glances. Off to the right, a flash of movement in my periphery quickened my pulse.

Deliberately casual, I turned and saw something just beyond the tree line. A dark form slinking out of the woods.

The silhouette had been moving away from me, but the moment my gaze reached it, the shadowy head came up and slowly rotated in my direction.

The air went very still and I sensed hesitation, like an animal sizing up its prey. Then the weeds parted violently, as though an invisible scythe cut a path straight toward me.

Whatever it was, it came at me like a freight train, preceded by an unnatural chill the like of which I’d never felt before. I stood there breathless and immobile, bound by a nightmarish paralysis.

A blizzard of cotton fluff swirled in the air as an icy gust swept back my hair. It was getting closer. So close I could feel a preternatural dampness against my skin, but still I couldn’t move.

Then my heart jerked, sending a spurt of adrenaline through my bloodstream. I spun around to the path and ran.

I heard nothing behind me. No pounding footsteps. No snapping twigs. But I knew it was back there, knew that I couldn’t outpace it for long, that…
thing,
that dark entity.

Still, I kept going.

A moment later, I emerged from the weeds and saw Devlin. He was alone and coming toward me, and I reacted purely on instinct. I ran straight into his arms. I had some momentum going, but he caught me with ease and without noticeable reluctance.

He was so warm, so strong, so…human. And he felt so good. I didn’t move away as I should have, but sank even deeper into the embrace. “What’s wrong?”

Too breathless to speak, I could only shiver.

His arms tightened around me and now I felt a bit of that protectiveness I’d sensed in him earlier. He lent me the comfort of his chest for a moment longer before he stepped back and held me at arm’s length, searching my face.

“Tell me what happened.”

Fear and shock made me speak without thinking. “I saw something at the edge of the woods.”

“What was it? An animal?”

“No…a shadow.” An entity. A ghost. One of the Others.

He stared down at me, perplexed but trying to make sense of my babbling. “You saw someone’s shadow?” Not some
one.
Some
thing.

“I didn’t get a good look at it. When it came after me, I just turned and ran.”

His hands gripped my arms. “Came after you? Someone chased you?”

“Yes. At least…yes.”

“But you didn’t see a face.”

“No. I didn’t see a face.”

His gaze swept the woods behind me. “It was probably just some kid from the university trying to scare you. I’ll go have a look.”

“Devlin?”

I’m not even sure what I meant to say to him, but the words fled as I glanced over his shoulder where a luminous shimmer had appeared.

A moment later, his ghosts floated through the veil into the falling twilight.

Devlin found nothing in the woods. I wasn’t surprised. The thing I’d glimpsed at the tree line didn’t have enough substance to leave even a footprint, but somehow it had force. I’d never felt anything like it.

But at the moment, I had something else to worry about. We were standing by my car and Devlin’s ghosts were with him. The chill of their presence consumed me. It was all I could do not to shiver and give myself away.

The child remained at his side, cheek resting against his leg, but the woman had glided forward this time. Her boldness alarmed me. The icy fire of her eyes frightened me. I didn’t look at her full on, of course, but I could still see her. She had been a beautiful woman. Exotic and sultry. Even in death, her essence was powerful. Palpable.

Devlin peered down at me. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He touched my arm and a bolt of lightning shot through me. The air all around us became electric and my every nerve ending tingled from the charge.

Drawn by the surge of energy, the woman drifted to my side. She placed her hand on my arm, mimicking Devlin. The heat of the day still lingered on my skin, and she slid her fingers up my arm, savoring the warmth, as she floated around me. I could feel her hands in my hair, her breath in my ear. Her lips against my neck. Her touch was like the coldest of whispers, and it came to me that she wasn’t just drawn to my warmth. She was taunting me.

She stood behind me, Devlin in front of me. A more chilling ménage à trois I couldn’t imagine. It took every ounce of my strength to ignore those ghostly caresses. Devlin had said something to me, but I didn’t hear a word of it.

I stared at him now, making him the focus of my concentration. His expression never changed. He was completely unaware of the dynamics that played out all around us.

“I almost forgot to tell you,” I said, my voice only slightly breathless. “I saw someone earlier. A private detective named Tom Gerrity.”

Everything shifted. The ghost’s hands stilled in my hair as Devlin’s expression grew rigid. She drifted back to his side, and then she and the child melted into the background, as if his sudden tension had repelled them.

“What did he want?” His words came out cold and clipped. I had to suppress another shudder.

“He asked me to give you a message.”

“What message?”

Quickly, I told him everything I could recall of my conversation with the P.I. Devlin said nothing, but I could tell the very mention of Gerrity’s name had upset him.