The Sinner (11 page)

“She Con-gee,” Essie said, and then muttered something under her breath that I couldn't understand.

“What?” I stared at her in shock. “How do you know that?”

“Some t'ings I know, some t'ings I don't.” Her dark eyes bore into mine. “If Pope is here, you best watch yourself, girl.”

“Why?”

“He likely mean to fill dem cages with anyone who try to stop him.” She took my hand and pressed a charm into my palm. “Keep dis close. In your pocket and under your pillow.”

“Thank you, but what about Rhapsody? Do you think she could be in danger from Pope?”

“You protect Rhapsody, I protect you.”

“But I don't know how to protect Rhapsody,” I said helplessly. What did the Goodwines expect of me? First Darius and now Essie.

“You'll know how when the time come. For now, you keep dat mojo bag close, you hear?”

I couldn't help but shiver at her ominous tone. “I will.”

“You got power. Maybe even more than Pope. If I kin see it, den so kin he. He'll come for you, girl. Make no mistake about dat. He'll come for you when you least expect it.”

Fifteen

I
arrived back in Ascension just after noon and stopped by the house to collect Angus before heading to the cemetery. I didn't want to dwell any longer on what I'd learned from Essie and Dr. Shaw. There would be time enough later to obsess over both conversations. For the rest of the day, I just wanted to immerse myself in Seven Gates. Work had always been my salvation and never more so than now with the specter of Atticus Pope hovering in the shadows.

Two adolescent boys on bicycles milled about the main entrance and the black SUV with the tinted windows was parked on the opposite side of the road, along with another vehicle I didn't recognize. I suspected the second SUV belonged to James Rushing. I saw no sign of him or Kendrick, but I assumed they were down at the circle.

I got out of the car and motioned for Angus to follow. He bounded out of the vehicle and then drew up short when he spotted the boys. He didn't growl or bare his teeth, but his tail shot up and he stood at rigid attention until I coaxed him through the gate.

It took a couple of trips to get everything inside the fence and Angus stayed right at my heels. I was glad to have his company. It was broad daylight and a police detective was only a shout away. As always, a part of me welcomed the solitude, but having Angus nearby was never a bad thing.

At some point Kendrick came out of the woods and took the long way around to his vehicle. As he strode near enough to the cemetery fence for me to catch a glimpse of him, I saw that his head was bowed as if he were in deep concentration. I didn't call out to him and he seemed unaware of my presence. He must have known I was there, though, because my vehicle was parked across the road from his.

Rushing left a little while later by the same route. When he saw me in the cemetery, he waved and then continued on to his car. Like Kendrick, he seemed preoccupied and I wondered what they might have found in the circle.

As I watched the dust settle on the road from Rushing's departure, I couldn't help but remember Essie's warning that Pope—in whatever body he now resided—meant to fill the cages with anyone who tried to stop him.

An icy shiver seized me as I glanced around. I didn't want to be alone even though daylight lingered. Solitude was no longer a comfort. The silence of the countryside had become deep and weighty and I found myself tensing at the slightest sound.

I continued to work for another half hour and then gave up. I was too jumpy to get much accomplished. As I gathered my tools, I turned once more toward the north gate. Was Pope out there somewhere? Did the watcher in the woods still lurk? Were they one and the same?

I canted my head, listening for the snap of a twig or the whiff of an odd scent. From deep within the forest I thought I heard chanting. That elusive one-word mantra that repeated over and over. I could smell a bonfire, too, and it took no effort at all to imagine a scenario straight from Dr. Shaw's book about witchcraft and black magic.

Quickly, I scanned my surroundings, assuring myself that I was in no immediate danger. It was a reflexive precaution because Angus would have surely alerted me if anyone had come through the main entrance or any of the side gates. He stood at sharp attention, head cocked, tail up. He seemed alarmed, but not yet frightened. His restrained demeanor should have reassured me, but in that breathless moment as we both stood listening, I could think of nothing beyond those dark rituals, nothing beyond those whispered rumors of mutilation, torture and bondage. And then I thought once more about the woman who had been buried alive less than half a mile from where I stood.

That first sight of her lumbering form had kept me rooted to the spot, but now the sound of a faraway chant had me rushing toward the entrance without bothering to collect the cooler.

Angus didn't follow me. He remained frozen, his attention riveted on the woods. I paused outside the entrance, turning my head to listen once again. Over the chanting, I could have sworn I heard the rasp of labored breathing and the muted thud of heavy footsteps hurrying along the path toward the back gate.

My heart leaped to my throat. Pope was coming for me!

Essie had been right. He knew about me, knew that I was a unique threat to him. I was the only one who could end this and now he was coming for me.

A gust of wind sharpened the scent of smoke and deepened my panic. “Angus, come!” I rasped.

The edge of hysteria in my voice startled him into action. Whirling, he closed the distance between us and lunged through the entrance. I slammed the gate and then snapped the padlock.

The smoke followed us. Not in a wispy cloud as I would have expected, but in one serpentine stream that slithered beneath the back fence and undulated over statues and monuments as it crept ever closer.

The caustic smell grew stronger and I staggered back from the gate, pulling my shirt over my nose and mouth. Angus had no such shield. The only way I could protect him was to get him inside the car.

The SUV was only a few yards away, just across the ditch, but the distance seemed to stretch as the vapor seeped through the flimsy fabric of my shirt, oozing up my nostrils and down my windpipe, filling my lungs with a fiery pollutant. Angus whimpered at my side, but I had no time to soothe him. I scrambled across the ditch, tripping as I scaled the shallow embankment. By the time we reached the safety of the vehicle, my eyes were inflamed. Tears streamed down my face, but when I tried to palm them away, the contact deepened the burn. I gasped, resisting the urge to claw at my eyeballs so great was the agony.

Beside me, Angus began to howl as he rubbed his face against the seat in desperation. In the throes of panic, I tried to think what to do. I couldn't see to drive, and if I called for help, the responders might be too late.

Water!
We needed to flush out the toxins, but I'd left the cooler in the cemetery.

I braced myself, knowing I would have to leave the safety of the locked vehicle to go back and get it. The smoke was still out there.
He
was still out there. Like Essie, I could feel him skulking in the trees, watching us. Taunting and toying with us.

No matter. I had to get to that water. If I waited any longer, the damage to our vision could be permanent.

Climbing out of the car, I stood for a moment with my hand resting on the door as I tried to get my bearings. The only way I could stand the pain was to keep my eyes squeezed shut, which meant I would have to rely on my other senses to guide me.

I slid my hand along the car until I reached the front fender and then once again paused as I turned my head toward the cemetery, listening for danger. Leaving the vehicle behind, I inched down the ditch, arms outstretched until I came up on the other side and made contact with the fence.

Unfastening the lock, I felt my way through the gate and then followed the sound of rippling leaves to the cottonwood grove. The shade was cool upon my burning face. I shuffled in ever-growing circles until I felt the ice chest with my foot. Dropping to my knees, I flung off the top and scooped up handfuls of slush to douse my eyes.

The cold was an instant balm. I took one of the bottles and poured water directly onto my upturned face. The burning subsided, but my vision remained blurry. I could just make out the silhouettes of the headstones and monuments and the line of the fence. Grabbing the handle of the cooler, I rushed back to the car. If footsteps followed me, I didn't hear them. If eyes tracked me through the gate, I didn't feel them.

I cradled Angus in my arms as I poured water over his face and into his eyes. He didn't once try to break free. The icy liquid had the same effect on him. His whimpers eased, and after a few moments, he climbed back into the car to curl up on the front seat, snout on paws as he watched me through teary eyes.

During all this frantic activity, I hadn't let myself think about the threat that lay beyond the back gate. Now as the pain and panic faded, I turned an ear to the woods but the chanting had stopped. No sound at all came from the trees. Even the breeze had died away.

I might have convinced myself that the chant had been nothing more than the shouts of children down at the swamp, but I hadn't imagined that creeping smoke. I only had to look at Angus's red and swollen eyes to know the danger had been real.

Hurrying around the vehicle, I climbed behind the wheel and wiped tears from my eyes as I started the engine. Peering through the windshield, I glimpsed a figure at the edge of the woods. I couldn't see him well. His form wavered like a mirage.

I blinked several times to clear my vision. When I looked again, I thought he had vanished, but he'd moved into the deeper shadows along the tree line.

He stood very still now, head slightly bowed, shoulders hunched and hands clenched in front of him as if grasping the hilt of a sword.

Not a sword, I realized in horror. A machete.

I remembered then what Dr. Shaw had said that morning about the most desirable
muti
being made from the limbs and organs of the living. The agonized screams of the victim made the spell more potent.

From what I could see, the person appeared to be hooded, but he blended so well with the looming trees that he seemed to be weaving in and out of existence. As I sat there watching him, his head came up and I caught a glimpse of his bestial visage.

The man with two souls.

The coldest chill went through me as I took in his animalistic features. Even his arms appeared elongated and I could have sworn I saw him bare his teeth. Beside me, Angus rose up on the seat and growled a warning. I heard an answering growl from the woods and then an ear-piercing howl that died away as he turned to lunge back into the trees, leaving me to wonder if I'd really seen him at all.

I didn't wait to find out. I tromped the gas and the vehicle shot forward in a shower of gravel. I very nearly lost control and poor Angus had to hunker on the seat to keep his balance.

Once I had the wheel straightened, we sped down the road toward home. Only when I could no longer see the graveyard in my mirror did I slow the car to a more manageable speed. Angus rose up again to gaze out the rear window.

“Who was that?” I muttered. “
What
was it?”

Angus's whimper told me all I needed to know.

Sixteen

W
hile I waited for the police to arrive at the house, I gave Angus a quick bath in the backyard to rid his coat of any lingering pollutants and then I showered, washed my hair and changed my clothes. By this time, the redness around my eyes had diminished and neither Angus nor I seemed to be suffering from any residual effects. Still, I knew I would need to keep a lookout for any new symptoms.

When the authorities finally arrived in two separate squad cars, I recognized Malloy and the officer that had first accompanied him to the caged graves. I remembered thinking of them as young and untested, an observation prompted by a fleeting moment of reluctance to approach the mortsafe and those grasping hands. As I watched them get out of their cars now and confer in the driveway, I tried to ignore an unreasonable twinge of impatience. Why hadn't a more seasoned officer been sent? A detective, even?

As they started across the yard toward the porch, Angus got up and placed himself in front of me.

“It's okay,” I murmured as I slipped my fingers under his collar and coaxed him into the house. “He's normally not aggressive unless he feels threatened,” I said to the officers. “But we're both a little on edge right now.”

“Understandable and no need to apologize,” Malloy said with a quick smile. “A good guard dog is worth his weight in gold.”

“Angus is certainly priceless,” I said.

He took a quick survey of the property. “No one else has been by yet?”

“You're the first.”

He frowned as he exchanged a look with the other officer. “The dispatcher must have gotten her wires crossed,” he muttered. “Someone should have already been by.”

The second cop had been standing apart from us, but he turned and swept his gaze over the porch and then into the side yard. I hadn't paid much attention to him at the mortsafes, but now I could see that both he and Malloy were a few years older than I'd first thought.

“This is Officer Reeves,” Malloy said.

Reeves gave a brief nod, which I returned.

“Mind if I have a look around?” he asked.

I lifted a brow at his request. “I don't mind, but I'm not sure what good it would do. The incident happened at the cemetery.”

“It's always helpful to get the lay of the land, so to speak.” He and Officer Malloy exchanged another glance before he took off around the corner of the house.

“What's he looking for?” I asked in alarm.

“Routine check of the premises,” Malloy said.

“It just seems a little strange. Wouldn't it be better to search the area around the cemetery? The person I saw earlier could still be skulking about.”

“Don't worry about the cemetery. That's already covered,” Malloy said as he put a foot on the bottom step.

“You've already been there?”

“Not me. But someone's there now checking out the scene.” He nodded toward the porch steps. “Have a seat if you'd feel more comfortable. You still look a little shaken up.”

I sat down on the porch while Malloy remained at the bottom of the steps gazing beyond me to the front door as if trying to get a peek through the side windows. I glanced over my shoulder to see what had captured his attention. I could see Angus's vague form through the glass where he stood watching us.

“What is it?” I asked as I turned back to Malloy. “If you're worried about Angus, he can't get out.”

“What? No. I was just thinking about this place. I came here with my uncle a few times when I was a little kid. He and the people who lived here were friends. I couldn't have been more than four or five at the time, but I seem to recall a blue parlor and a yellow kitchen.”

“Nothing's changed,” I said. “You have a good memory. Was that when the Willoughbys still lived here?”

He seemed surprised that I knew about them. “Yes, that was their name. I don't remember the adults very well, but I sure remember Annie. You know her as Annalee. She was a very strange girl even back then.”

“Strange how?”

“My uncle would ask her to watch me while he and the other grown-ups visited inside. I remember once we sneaked off down through the orange grove to an old shed where her grandparents kept a bunch of antique furniture and stuff. That was before...” He trailed away. “Anyway, she called it her playhouse. I don't think she was supposed to be down there, but she'd come across the key somehow. She lured me inside and then fastened me up in an old wardrobe. It took hours before anyone came to let me out.”

“That must have been scary for a child.”

He gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I had nightmares about it for weeks. When they finally found me, Annalee claimed I'd run off from her and gone down to the shed on my own. Just straight-up lied about it.”

“That's not so unusual for a kid.”

“No, but that girl had the face of an angel. She could make you believe what she wanted you to believe. But I guess her mother knew her well enough by then not to trust her. She lit into her good. My uncle never took me back and neither of us ever told my folks. I'd forgotten all about that incident until I drove up here just now.”

“It's interesting how things can come back to you.” I'd been observing him closely as we talked and I saw something flicker in his eyes as if he'd remembered something more troubling than a childhood prank. I was remembering something, too. The image of Annalee and a little boy playing in the dirt while someone—her mother, perhaps—snapped a photo of Atticus Pope's twelve disciples in the backyard. I wondered if Malloy's uncle had been one of them.

His gaze was still fixed on the front door and I could have sworn I saw him shiver. Then he seemed to shake himself and gave another laugh. “Sorry. I didn't mean to get sidetracked. Here I am rambling on about something that happened twenty years ago when I should be taking your statement.”

Only moments earlier, I'd been annoyed by the police's slow response time. Now I found myself wanting to question Malloy further about his visits to the Willoughby house and the time he'd spent with Annalee Nash.

But he'd already taken out his notebook and flipped to a blank page. Without looking up he said, “Tell me what happened.”

“I will, but what did you mean earlier when you said the cemetery was covered?”

“It's my understanding that Detective Kendrick is canvassing the area himself. If there's anything to be found, he'll find it. Right now, I need you to start at the beginning and walk me though what happened.”

I did as he asked, describing in as much detail as I could recall the chanting, the pungent smoke and the hooded man at the edge of the woods. With a little time and distance, the story sounded wildly fantastical even to me, but to his credit, Malloy seemed willing to suspend his disbelief. Or at least he pretended to.

“Anything else?”

I shrugged. “That's all I can remember.”

“We'll file a report and keep an eye out for anyone hanging around the cemetery, but I honestly don't think there's much call for alarm. My guess is, those boys you saw earlier on bicycles are the culprits. They probably heard about the body that was found, saw that you were alone in the cemetery and decided to have a little fun at your expense.”

I would have liked nothing better than to believe that I was the victim of a harmless if cruel practical joke, but that didn't explain the diabolical properties of that strange smoke.

Malloy had an answer for that, too. “Believe it or not, folk magic is still practiced around in these parts, especially on some of the islands. Root work, they call it. Mostly superstitious nonsense, but people like to cling to their beliefs. They chant a lot and use certain medicinal botanicals in their practices. Harmless enough, but when they light fire to some of those leaves and roots, the smell can be pretty potent.”

“It wasn't just the smell,” I said. “There was some kind of poison or irritant in the smoke.”

“You ever been around a campfire when someone decides to burn poison ivy? If you're allergic, that smoke is lethal. Lesson learned the hard way,” he said with a grin. The minuscule gap between his front teeth gave him a boyish charm that wasn't altogether lost on me. But as pleasant and disarming as I found Officer Malloy, I couldn't quite dismiss the look I'd seen in his eyes as he recalled his time at the Willoughby house.

“I'm not allergic to poison ivy,” I told him. “And believe me, I've been around plenty of it in my line of work. Whatever was in that smoke was nothing I've ever experienced before.”

He searched my face. “You don't appear to have suffered any side effects.”

I wasn't comfortable with his lingering scrutiny and glanced away. “No, thank goodness.”

He tapped the notebook against his thigh. “How much longer before you'll be finished in the cemetery?”

The question surprised me. “As I told you the other day, I still have several more weeks of work. Why?”

“You're a material witness in a murder investigation so we'd like to make sure you plan to stick around for a while.”

“And as I also told you, I'm not going anywhere.”

I couldn't tell if my answer satisfied him or not. His gaze had strayed back to the front door and I saw a frown fleet across his brow as if he'd sensed something inside that even Angus couldn't detect. “I'll talk to Kendrick about having someone drive by here every so often. We'll try to keep an eye on the cemetery, too.”

“Thanks.”

By this time the other officer had returned to the driveway. He leaned against the front of his squad car, cell phone to his ear as he waited for Malloy to wrap things up.

But Malloy seemed in no hurry to leave, taking his time to scribble in his notebook before he tucked it away in his pocket. He cast a glance at the waiting officer before returning his attention to me. His eyes were very blue in the fading light, but the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose kept them from being too intense, unlike Kendrick's gold eyes, which made me feel as if he could peer into the very depths of my soul.

What a disturbing notion. How was it that in the course of a few short days, Lucien Kendrick had come to occupy so many of my thoughts?

I felt the creep of a blush and was glad when an impatient prod from the other officer momentarily diverted Malloy's attention.

He continued to loiter at the bottom of the steps, hands in his pockets as he gazed up at me. “What happens when you finish your work in Seven Gates?”

“You mean for good? I'll go back home and prepare for my next job.”

“A cemetery restorer,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “I've never met one before.”

“There aren't many of us around.”

“You don't get lonely working by yourself the way you do? You never get spooked?”

“I was spooked just this afternoon,” I reminded him.

He flashed another grin. “I mean
spooked
spooked. As in ghosts.”

“I've yet to meet a machete-wielding ghost,” I said. “Or one that buries his victims alive.”

“We'll find him, you know. The killer. It's just a matter of time. Kendrick won't rest until he does.”

I heard something in Malloy's voice that might have been respect or resentment or a little of both. I wondered about Kendrick's position in the department and whether or not he'd displaced someone local upon his return to Beaufort County.

“Have you known Detective Kendrick long?” I asked.

“I don't think anyone really knows Lucien Kendrick.”

“But you seem confident in his abilities to find the killer.”

“Put it this way. There's dedicated and there's obsessed. Kendrick can be both.”

“You think he's obsessed with this case?”

“I think he's...” Malloy checked himself abruptly and gave me a shrewd appraisal as he straightened. “Kendrick is an odd duck. Maybe we should leave it at that.”

“Maybe we should.” I rose and dusted off my jeans. “I won't keep you. Thank you for your help.”

“All part of the job. Just to be on the safe side, keep your doors locked when you're home and take your dog with you when you go back to Seven Gates.”

I felt the weight of Essie's mojo bag in my pocket and nodded. “I'll take the necessary precautions, don't worry.”

He fished a card from his pocket and handed it up the steps to me. “I saw Kendrick give you his number the other day, but in case you can't reach him or...for any other reason, you can always call me. Day or night.”

“Thank you.”

I thought he would surely take his leave then, but instead he came up a couple of steps so that he could speak without being overheard by his partner. I was so surprised by the action that I didn't have time to move away.

“You don't know me,” he said in low voice. “And you've no reason to trust me. But I've lived in Ascension my whole life. You can ask anyone in town and they'll vouch for me.”

“Vouch for you for what?”

His gaze on me deepened. “Be careful with certain people.”

“Like who?”

“I think you know who I mean.” He cast a quick glance over his shoulder. “It's a feeling I've had for a while now. Certain things don't add up.”

“What things?”

“I can't say anything more right now. I've probably said too much. But if you ever feel threatened or even just need to talk, call that number. No one else has to know.”

So much for his disarming grin, I thought as I watched him stride across the yard and climb into his squad car. So much for his boyish charm. Officer Malloy was a far cry from the untested rookie I'd judged him to be. He was shrewd and wary and cunning. And unless I missed my guess, he had it in for Lucien Kendrick.