It was a terrifying sensation, and my first inclination was to rip the key from around my neck and fling it into the woods. The last thing I wanted was to open yet another door.
But instead of removing the key, I turned it so that the teeth pointed away from my heart. Why I did so, I couldn’t say. Perhaps it was instinct or divine intervention. The guidance of an unseen hand.
Oddly and perhaps coincidentally, the noise in my head quieted and the pressure eased. The dark things in the woods grew still and watchful. The flies scattered and the odor faded as the wind died away. I didn’t know why or how, but a door had been closed.
I sat for a moment, clutching the skeleton key to my breast. I knew the ghosts weren’t gone for good. I could still feel the chill of their presence. Rather, the key had granted a temporary reprieve. Maybe like hallowed ground, the metal provided a layer of protection, if not salvation.
The other two keys still lay on the seat beside me. I picked up the eye key and held it in my palm. The metal didn’t glow like the key around my neck, but I fancied I could feel a throb. And with the vibration came a disturbing notion as to why Rose had blinded herself. Maybe her only way out had been to unsee them. If the function of the skeleton key was to provide a reprieve, then the key with the pointed teeth could have offered my great-grandmother a final solution.
Thirty-Four
I soldiered on toward Kroll Cemetery. Up ahead where the trees thinned, beams of sunlight spangled down through the branches and I could see a butterfly dancing among the wild columbine that grew beside the trail. The weight of the dead world had lifted from me, but I cautioned myself not to let down my guard. Not to be fooled by the reprieve or the cathedral-like tranquillity of the woods. The peace was only a stay, an illusory calm before a gathering storm.
The road ended abruptly and I came to a rocky halt. A wall of green rose before me. The fingered leaves of the oaks and sycamores tangled with the feathery bowers of the cedars to create an impenetrable canopy. Evergreen saplings sprouted so thick at the end of the trail that I could barely make out the footpath.
I had expected to find Dr. Shaw waiting for me, or at the very least, his parked vehicle, but I saw no sign of either. No footprints or tire tracks to indicate anyone had been this way in years. I knew better, of course. I’d spoken to him only a short time ago. He was undoubtedly on his way to meet me at that very minute. All I had to do was sit tight.
But as I huddled over the steering wheel, listening to the engine tick down, I began to wonder if I might have taken a wrong turn after all. He should have been here by now.
I took another quick glance at the map, satisfied that I had come to the right place. Drumming fingers on the seat, I waited another few minutes before taking out my phone to call him. But after several rings, I gave up.
His absence niggled as I sat there. If something had delayed him, he would have alerted me or at the very least kept his phone handy so that I could call him.
I got out of the car and stood in the shade as I contemplated what I should do. On the surface, the countryside was quiet and still, but if I listened intently and concentrated hard enough, the forest came alive. An owl hooted in the distance as the underbrush rustled from the scurry of tiny feet. A flock of blackbirds took flight and circled for a moment before drifting back down into the leaves. I was so spellbound, my senses so heightened, I could hear the swish of their feathers and the click of tiny claws as they resettled themselves on the branches. I found it strange that I could be so attuned to my surroundings and still feel so completely out of my element, a million miles away from the safety net of my sanctuary.
Checking my phone for a signal, I placed another call to Dr. Shaw with the same result. The phone rang and rang. I was just about to hang up when I became aware of a new sound, distant but jarring in the hush of the woods. I lowered the phone and turned my ear to the trees, closing my eyes so that I could vector in on the disturbance. From somewhere deep in the woods came the sound of a ringtone.
I ended the connection and the ringing stopped. Then I called the same number and the sound came again, even fainter than before, as if Dr. Shaw was moving away from me.
An icy panic stole up my backbone. He was getting on in years, and the previous autumn he’d survived a terrible trauma. No doubt the stress had taken a toll. I had visions of him suffering a breakdown like poor Rose and wandering around lost in the woods or lying unconscious somewhere from a fall or a heart attack. Or even worse, what if Micah Durant had taken a shortcut through the woods and intercepted him at the cemetery or in the maze? Dr. Shaw would never have seen him coming.