The sunshine streaming in through the windshield lulled me, allowing the lush landscape to captivate my imagination. Before long I started to relax and enjoy the journey. I often traveled to the far corners of the state and beyond for work, and I’d come to appreciate the solitude of those long drives.
Just outside Isola, I put in a call to Dr. Shaw to let him know when he could expect me.
“I’ve been hoping to hear from you,” he said with cautious excitement. “Where are you?”
“I’m still a few miles outside town. Why? Is anything wrong?”
“No, quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve made a rather extraordinary discovery on Rose’s headstone.”
My own excitement surged. “What is it?”
“I think it would be better if you see for yourself.”
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel and I found myself leaning forward as if I could somehow will away the remaining miles. “You can’t just leave me hanging! At least give me a hint.”
He paused. “Very well. The last time we spoke you mentioned some markings that you’d noticed at the top of Rose’s headstone. You thought they might be imperfections in the stone or a photographic artifact. But your first instinct about them was right.”
“Meaning?” I asked on a breath.
“The markings are an inscription, possibly even a message written in braille.”
“In braille?”
“I don’t know how I missed it when I toured the cemetery the first time. But the placement is discreet. Easy to assume they’re blemishes or anomalies in the stone if one doesn’t take a close enough look.”
The discovery was indeed fascinating, but also disturbing given what Nelda had told me about Rose’s passing. She’d blinded herself right before she took her own life. The bloody key had still been clutched in her hand. Why a braille inscription if she had only lost her sight a few moments before her death?
Somehow it had been easier to believe that my great-grandmother—my look-alike and namesake—had succumbed to a temporary madness that had driven her to commit such a horrifying act. But a braille inscription on her headstone, one that she had undoubtedly arranged for herself, suggested that she had been planning the grisly mutilation for quite some time. But why?
“Do you know what it says?” I asked.
“Not yet. I’ve photographed the inscription from various angles and emailed the images to my assistant to look up the translation for me. I also sent a scan of a rubbing I made of the stone. I should hear back by the end of the day.”
“It’s a very interesting find, Dr. Shaw.”
“Yes, I think so, too. I would imagine a headstone inscription in braille is rather rare.”
“I’ve seen only one, in Nunhead Cemetery in London.” I’d gone the year after my aunt had treated me to a visit to Père Lachaise in Paris. Nunhead was a much darker place, more Gothic and lush. I could still remember the scent of the lime trees as I’d wandered along the overgrown walkways, ignoring the ghosts.
“There are so many things I want to show you in Kroll Cemetery,” Dr. Shaw said in a strangely subdued voice. “It’s such a beautiful place, but rather forlorn, I’m afraid. I find myself lingering over each of the headstones, trying to imagine those last moments in Kroll Colony. Wondering if the colonists knew when they awakened in the morning that it would be their last day on earth. Or were they betrayed? Blindsided by someone they trusted? Left to die horrifically, their legacy tarnished for all eternity.”
“It’s a mystery that desperately needs a resolution,” I said.
“Indeed it does,” he agreed. “And I’m more certain than ever that you’re the one who can finally unravel this graveyard’s secrets.”
*
A half hour later, I left the town of Isola behind as I headed out to Louvenia Durant’s horse farm. With Dr. Shaw’s map still resting on the seat beside me, I felt confident I could find her place without too much trouble. As I crossed over the city limits, traffic thinned and the four-lane thoroughfare gave way to a narrow country blacktop lined with pine trees. Other than an occasional farm vehicle, I had the road to myself.
Five miles out of town, I slowed to look for the turn, afraid that I might miss it because of the thick woods. I needn’t have worried. The entrance to the Durant property was prominently marked with an impressive archway and two metal horses mounted on brick columns built on either side of the paved lane.