The Visitor (Graveyard Queen, #4)(80)

I thought of Micah Durant and his bees and how easy it would be for him to let loose a colony inside the maze.

“What’s wrong?” Devlin asked.

“I thought I heard a twig snap.”

He lifted his head, senses on full alert as he swept the narrow pathway behind us. “We should keep going. We’ll have a better view of our surroundings in the cemetery. If someone comes through the gate or over the wall, we’ll have ample warning.”

I nodded. “Just in case we get separated in here, always bear left even when your instincts tell you to go right. You’ll eventually come out at the cemetery gate.”

“We won’t get separated,” Devlin said, but even the metallic click of his weapon as he checked the cartridge failed to reassure me.

*

We were both perspiring by the time we approached the vine-shrouded gate. The day seemed abnormally humid and I could feel static in the air even though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Devlin warily scanned our surroundings. “Place looks deserted. And just as creepy as I remembered it.”

“Wait until we get inside.”

We stepped through the gate and the surreal beauty of Kroll Cemetery struck me anew. As we hovered at the entrance, a hush fell over the graves and I once again had that strange sensation of floating, of time stopping. But despite the outward calm, I could feel the stir of restless energy all around us.

“I must have been here at a different time of day when I was a kid. I would have remembered the light,” Devlin said. “The way it shines down through all those cicada shells is extraordinary.”

“Like the whole cemetery is suspended in amber.”

“Or trapped in time. It’s a little unsettling,” he admitted.

I watched him for a moment as I once again returned to my conversation with Dr. Shaw. Was it possible Devlin was undergoing his own transformation? Approaching his own crossroads?

I didn’t want to dwell on the consequences of such a metamorphosis so I shoved the notion aside and turned down one of the pathways. “I think Rose’s grave is this way.”

We made our way through the headstones, pausing now and then to examine a key engraving or to read a name aloud. When we finally located Rose’s grave site, I moved to the opposite side so that we both had a clear view of the inscription.

Kneeling, I ran my hand over the top of the marker. “This is the shadow we saw in Dr. Shaw’s photo, remember? We wondered if it was a photographic artifact or an anomaly in the stone. But as you can see, the markings are braille.”

“She was blind?” Devlin crouched across from me. “Has anyone said how she died?”

“Yes. It’s a horrific story,” I said, fighting back a wave of inexplicable sadness. My great-grandmother had died long before I’d been born, but I wondered now if she had always been with me, an ethereal guardian drifting in and out of my life. Waiting, sensing, perhaps leaving a key necklace on a headstone for me to find. I hadn’t been able to see her, but I’d picked up on her feelings of loneliness and isolation. The terrible sense of loss that had lingered after Ezra Kroll’s passing.

I tried to shake off the melancholy as I stared down at her grave. “Nelda Toombs said she found Rose hanged in her home. She was still clutching a key that she’d used to put out her eyes.”

Devlin’s shocked gaze met mine. “That is horrible. Suicide is one thing, but self-mutilation to that extent is rare. What could have driven her to do such a thing?”

“Apparently, she’d been ill for some time.”

“Was she being treated?”

“I doubt it. At least not in any meaningful way. She probably didn’t even realize anything was wrong until it was too late.”

Devlin’s gaze was still on me, but he was silent for a very long time. I could only imagine what must be going through his mind. Was he recalling my strange behavior of late? Was he thinking about the incident last night and my obsession with Kroll Cemetery? Was he putting two and two together and wondering whether or not Rose’s illness had been passed down to me?

“I think she blinded herself because of something she saw,” I said. “Something she couldn’t accept.”

“Do you think she witnessed what happened at Kroll Colony?”

“Either saw or figured it out. And she left clues here in this cemetery.”

“That’s a lot of trouble to go to,” Devlin said. “Why not tell the police?”

“Maybe she was afraid to. After Ezra Kroll died, she would have had no one to protect her. Imagine how alone and vulnerable she must have felt.”

“Have you been able to translate the braille?” Devlin asked.

“Yes, it’s from an old poem.” I removed my phone and read from Dr. Shaw’s email:

“O calm and sacred bed, where lies

In death’s dark mysteries

A beauty far more bright

Than the noon’s cloudless light.”

“Death’s dark mysteries. Noon’s cloudless light.” He shrugged. “Seems an obvious reference to what happened at Kroll Colony. The colonists died during the noonday meal.”

“Then, why hide the lines in braille when the time of the event had already been established? If Rose blinded herself on the same day she died, she must have already made arrangements for the headstone. She would have had to plan everything months in advance.”