Taken at Dusk (Shadow Falls #3)(61)

The wave of dizziness crashed over her again, only harder this time. Her head started pounding-pain exploded behind her eyes. Hugging herself against the cold, she lowered herself onto the green grass, wrapped her arms around her shins, and dropped her forehead on top of her knees.

"I can't do this," she muttered.

"Move back," Jane Doe said. "You are hurting her."

Kylie felt some of the cold begin to ebb, the pain behind her eyelids lessened, and she could only assume the ghost had been talking to the other spirits. The noise level lowered almost to the point where it didn't hurt to listen anymore.

"Are you okay?" Burnett's deep, concerned voice came at her ear.

Kylie raised her head and saw the only spirits remaining were Jane Doe, the old man's wife, and the other younger spirit.

Kylie looked at Burnett. "Yeah. I'm fine. Or getting better," she said.

Burnett nodded and then backed away. Kylie stared at Jane Doe and waited a few more seconds before she asked, "Isn't this where you're buried?"

Jane's brow wrinkled in that confused way of hers. "I ... don't know."

"Oh, phooey!" said the younger woman who'd said her name was Catherine. "Of course you're buried here. Your grave and marker are right over there. You were put in the ground by the Texas prison system. You'd been given life for killing your own baby."

Chapter Twenty

Shock filled Kylie's chest. Jane had killed her baby? Was that why Jane had amnesia? The horror of what she'd done had been too much for her to bear?

Jane swerved toward Catherine and held both her fists up in front of her face, her body tight with fury. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm not Berta! I did not kill my own child. I would never kill my baby. I loved my baby."

Catherine looked at Kylie. "She's confused. I think they gave her a lobotomy. Probably trying to fix her."

"I'm not Berta!" Jane Doe's scream rang so loud, Kylie flinched. "And I'm sick to death of hearing you call me that."

"Then what's your name?" Catherine spouted back.

Jane got tears in her eyes. "I don't know. I don't know who I am, I don't know what I am, but I know who I'm not. And I'm not Berta Littlemon. I think my baby died, but I didn't kill it. I was somebody's wife. Now I'm just lost. And empty. And dead." She turned and looked at Kylie as if remembering the vision. "Somebody killed me." Tears slipped down the woman's cheek and then she disappeared.

Kylie's chest filled with empathy. She got back to her feet, and while she felt inclined to believe Jane Doe, she'd come here to find answers. And to find them, she had to ask questions. "Why do you think she's Berta Littlemon?"

"I don't think, I know," Catherine said. Then she smiled. "And I'll tell you all I know if you'll do me a favor."

* * *

Kylie still stood by the grave of Berta Littlemon when Burnett walked over to join her about thirty minutes later. This time, he didn't inquire if she was okay. But then, he didn't have to ask. Kylie sensed he could guess she wasn't okay by the look of dismay on her face. Placing his hand lightly on her shoulder, he asked, "Was this ... helpful?"

"I don't know," Kylie said, confused and disturbed by what she'd learned from Catherine O'Connell. Sure, she'd gotten some information, but mostly all the trip to the Fallen Cemetery had accomplished was to underscore how little she knew about Jane Doe and how impossible it would be to help her.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded and they started walking toward the gate where Della stood, looking as ill at ease as she had the moment they'd first arrived. The crowd of spirits followed them, moving close but not crowding her.

"Will you come back?" whispered an older-sounding male spirit.

"Please, say you'll come," begged a younger female spirit.

"It's not fair," wailed another female. "Why does she have to leave now? I didn't get a chance to talk to her!"

Then all of the spirits began to talk at once, making it hard to understand them and bringing Kylie's headache back in full force. Through the crowd of voices, she was dimly aware of Ima, the old man's wife, walking from one small group of spirits to another and whispering something to them.

Kylie stopped and massaged her temples. "I'm sorry," she said, and she truly was.

Right now, all she wanted to do was run from them, run into the sunlight, ignore the shadows and pretend that they didn't exist. But even as she wanted to run away, she knew she couldn't. How could she when she felt their pain, their heartbreak, as intensely as she did her own? How could she when she knew they all had some kind of unfinished business they wanted resolved and she was their only chance to make that happen?

Still, she had to establish some boundaries or else she'd likely lose her mind the way Jane Doe obviously had.

And then Kylie wouldn't be able to help any of them.

"I have to leave now," she said. "You can't come with me. You need to stay here. But ... I will come back. I promise." It was a promise she intended to keep, but not one she looked forward to.

"I'm not coming back," Della said, and walked toward the car.

Burnett shot Kylie a worried look and she shook her head, indicating that she was fine. When they stepped out of the cemetery property and the spirits didn't follow, Kylie sighed with relief. She'd never appreciated the blast of Texas heat that swamped her as much as she did right now.