He shifted his focus, staring down at me in the rain. I reached out a hand to him, but he backed away from my touch. His rejection was like an arrow through my heart.
In that moment, I knew for certain that something had changed between us. Something I still didn’t understand. I felt cold all of a sudden and overwhelmed by the same feeling of loss that had plagued my dreams for weeks.
Fifty-One
The rest of the night passed in a blur. Once the local police and EMTs arrived on the scene, Devlin and I were quickly separated. I was taken first to the hospital and then later to police headquarters, where I gave a lengthy statement to one of the detectives assigned to the case.
The story sounded far-fetched even to my own ears, but surprisingly, Owen Dowling corroborated my account from his hospital bed. He admitted to his part in my assault and abduction, but he claimed that Nelda’s death had been an accident. She’d lost her footing on the porch steps and the fall had broken her neck. He’d thought her dead when he’d put her underneath Rose’s house—or so he claimed. Maybe he was savvy enough even after having been shot to try to avoid murder charges, but I tended to believe him. His tale of a wayward and impressionable boy being groomed from an early age to do Nelda’s bidding held the ring of truth, especially given what I knew about her possession.
Louvenia Durant had also been called to the station, and I’d spoken to her briefly on my way out. She’d been distraught by the evening’s events, but not overly shocked. Her calm demeanor made me wonder if she’d suspected Nelda’s role in the Kroll Colony tragedy all along. Maybe Louvenia’s guilt for failing to protect her sisters had kept her silent and mentally fragile for decades.
Even so, she’d seemed as determined as ever to go through with the restoration. “It’s the least I can do for those poor souls,” she’d said, and I had sensed her pain so strongly that I’d offered to meet with her before I left town.
As for Micah Durant, he’d vanished before the police had had a chance to question him. Louvenia had appeared visibly relieved by her grandson’s sudden departure, and given what I knew of him, I could hardly blame her.
After the police concluded the interviews, Devlin and I had found a nearby hotel room since the cottage was now a crime scene. Not that I would have wanted to go back there anyway. I was more than ready to put Nelda Toombs and her machinations behind me. Devlin must have felt the same way because we didn’t talk much about what had transpired. We were both so mentally and physically exhausted by that time that we’d fallen asleep almost immediately. The next morning, he’d risen before me, having once again been summoned to the police station. After a cup of tea and a brief stop at the hospital to check on Dr. Shaw, who was thankfully on the mend, I’d set out for Kroll Cemetery alone.
And so here I was.
I welcomed the solitude of the cemetery. I needed some time at Rose’s graveside to try to process everything that had happened. To try to make sense of our connection. I still didn’t completely understand my role in recent events. Nelda said that Rose had waited to make contact until the rules were broken, until I was strong enough to help her, but with what? Had she summoned me here to release all those lost souls? To uncover the real killer? Or had she wanted me to find and contain the entity?
Why had she left the skeleton key in Rosehill Cemetery all those years ago? Would it have protected me from the ghosts if I’d kept it or would it have opened the door to the dead world even sooner?
So many questions left unanswered.
Kneeling at her grave, I traced a finger along the braille inscription. Our journeys were still intertwined, but where did I go from here? Where did I search for clues now that her house was gone?
I felt oddly bereft by the loss. I still didn’t know my purpose or place. The only thing I understood with any certainty was that my experiences in Kroll Cemetery had brought me closer to my destiny.
The back of my neck tingled and I lifted a hand to my nape. When I drew back my fingers, a honeybee clung to one of my knuckles. I gazed around warily, searching the darkest corners of the cemetery. My gaze lit on a shadow at the top of the wall, moved on and then darted back as my heart started to hammer.
Micah Durant crouched on top of the crumbling stones staring down at me through the amber glow of the cicada shells. As our gazes locked, I experienced the strangest chill at the small of my back, as though an icy fist had gripped my spine.
An errant shaft of sunlight set his silvery-gold hair ablaze and I was once again struck by his ethereal appearance. But beneath the angelic facade, I detected something feral in the curl of his lips, something dark and bestial in those colorless eyes.
I know you, I thought. And you know me.