The Visitor (17 page)

“I will.” I wanted to reassure him that I would be fine on my own and that he needed to stay focused on his grandfather's health.

But truthfully, I also had a bad feeling about the Kroll family. Something dark had happened within their ranks. Something that had kept the ghosts of Kroll Colony restless for decades.

This was no simple visitation or restoration. I was being pulled to that walled graveyard by both the living and the dead, and whatever the outcome, I wouldn't leave Kroll Cemetery unscathed.

Thirty-One

T
he next day, I left for Kroll Cemetery. I set out with my tools, camera equipment and a change of clothes because tramping through cemeteries could be a hot and dirty business during the spring and summer months. Dr. Shaw and his associate were already in place and I kept the map he'd drawn for me nearby in case the navigation system couldn't deal with the country roads. The three keys were safely stored in a zippered compartment of my backpack. I wished that I still had the stereoscope and card because I felt certain they were important clues, but I'd left both with Nelda Toombs.

Surprisingly, my mood was lighter than it had been in days. For one thing, I felt relieved to finally be taking action, and for another, I'd had no visitations since my talk with Papa. I hadn't heard scratching in the walls or witnessed any manifestations, which I hoped meant that I was on the right track. So long as I did as the entities wished, they would leave me alone.

With so many things swirling around in my head, the miles sped by. Soon enough, I left the coastal area behind and entered a dark green landscape of hunting forests and timberland. Aiken County was known as Thoroughbred country, and the horse farms I passed along the way ranged from modest clapboard houses and outbuildings to stately plantation homes and elaborate stables reminiscent of the estates where the Vanderbilts, Astors and Hitchcocks had once summered.

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.

As I drove through, I cast a wary glance around me. Suddenly, I felt a very long way from civilization. A world away from my beloved Charleston. I was on my way to meet Louvenia Durant, a woman I barely knew, in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps not the smartest thing I'd ever done, but despite my distrust of the Krolls, I couldn't imagine that anyone in the family meant me harm. Too many people knew of my whereabouts. A mishap on their turf would be hard to explain. At least that was how I reasoned away my unease.

The narrow road wound through mile after mile of solid evergreens. With my window down, I could smell pine and cedar mingling with the darker scent of the hawthorn. I had the sense that I was traveling through the black forest of a childhood fairy tale and was glad when the trees cleared and I could see patches of sunlight ahead.

As I topped a ridge, the woods gave way to rolling pastures dotted with wildflowers. Behind well-tended fences, magnificent horses grazed peacefully in the afternoon heat, the only interruption to their rural paradise the distant crack of a rifle.

Rounding a curve, I finally caught sight of the house, a sprawling three-story plantation home with a small army of chimneys rising from the rooftop. The spread was beautiful in the somnolent light. Even the outbuildings and stables had the well-cared-for look of a place where money had never been a concern.

A uniformed maid answered the door, her dark eyes at once appraising and dismissive. “Whatever you're peddling, we already got a dozen more'n we need.”

Her bluntness took me aback. “I'm not selling anything. I have an appointment with Mrs. Durant. My name is Amelia Gray.”

The shrewd gaze narrowed as she rested a hand on her scrawny hip. “That cemetery gal from Charleston she told me about? Didn't nobody call you this morning?”

“No, I haven't heard from anyone all day.”

“Well, don't that beat all.” She threw up her hands in frustration. “I swan, I don't know why Miss Vinnie keep that gal on, not worth a plug nickel, you ask me, never do a thing a body tell her to do.” The woman heaved a weary sigh as she gave me another doubtful scrutiny. “I reckon you better come inside, but mind them feet. Don't go tracking dirt in here on my rugs.”

“It seems I've come at a bad time,” I murmured. “Maybe I should just wait outside.”

“Come in,” she barked. “Before you let the flies in.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Quickly, I wiped my shoes on the mat before stepping into a large foyer with aged pine flooring and thick plaster walls. A ceiling fan stirred currents of chilled air and I had to suppress a shiver.

“Wait right here while I go fetch Miss Vinnie.” I had a feeling the woman wanted to caution me not to touch anything but managed to curtail the impulse by tightly pursing her lips before she turned and disappeared down a long, spacious hallway.

Left alone, I gazed around curiously, craning my neck to see into the well-appointed parlor on one side of the stairs and the dining room on the other. I would have expected to find family portraits lining the magnificent walls, but the artwork was mostly equine in nature. Through a row of French doors, I spied a peacock strutting across the lawn, and beyond the garden, a horse and rider jumped hedges at the edge of a pasture.

I watched for a moment, mesmerized even from this distance by the grace and symmetry of both animal and human before turning back to my immediate surroundings. I couldn't help wondering if Ezra Kroll had once lived in this house and if he had ever regretted leaving behind such a comfortable life for the meager existence of the commune.

“Miss Gray?”

I whirled at the sound of my name.

Louvenia Durant had come through the dining room while my attention had been diverted and now she stood in the large doorway observing me. As our eyes met, I had the unsettling notion that she knew exactly what I had been thinking.

“Your trip over was pleasant, I trust.” Her gaze was very direct and vaguely anxious.

“Yes, it was a nice drive, thank you.”

“I'm sorry my assistant wasn't able to reach you before you left Charleston.” Her face darkened as her gaze went to the window that looked out on the front grounds. The rider I'd glimpsed earlier had left the pasture and now walked the magnificent chestnut sedately up the long drive. For a moment, Louvenia seemed struck by the sight and then she collected herself. “I'm afraid there's been a change of plans.”

“Oh?”

“Something unexpected has come up. A family matter that can't wait. Our meeting will have to be postponed. I'm terribly sorry. I can't apologize enough for the inconvenience.”

“No worries. I hope it's nothing serious.”

“That remains to be seen,” she murmured, her gaze darting back to the window.

The rider was still some distance away, but when he removed his helmet, I saw the spill of silvery-gold curls across his forehead. I sensed a mounting tension in Louvenia as Micah Durant drew closer.

“My grandson,” she finally said. “He's only been back a short time and already he has the household in an uproar. Not to mention that poor horse in a lather.” Her lips thinned in disapproval as he steered the chestnut off the road, taking a shortcut across the lawn to the stables. She tore her gaze away and offered a strained smile. “I'll be tied up with family business for the rest of the afternoon, but I'd like to reschedule our meeting as soon as possible. That is, if you're still agreeable.”

“Of course,” I said, trying to curtail my disappointment. Or was it relief? “Shall I call you in a day or two to set something up?”

“I don't want to wait that long. I feel that time is of the essence and we should get started on the restoration as soon as possible.” She brushed her hands down the tail of her shirt, a nervous tic that made me wonder what was going on inside her head. “I know this is terribly presumptuous of me, but I wonder if you'd be willing to come back in the morning. Say around eight?” Before I could answer, she quickly added, “I don't expect you to drive in from Charleston at that hour, but maybe you'd be willing to stay over. I've taken the liberty of arranging accommodations for you in town at my sister's bed-and-breakfast. Dr. Shaw and his associate are occupying the upstairs guest rooms, but there's a small cottage in the garden that I think you'll find cozy. And of course, I'll be more than happy to reimburse you for your time.”

“That's very generous of you, Mrs. Durant.”

“I'm a businesswoman, Miss Gray. If I were in your shoes, I would expect no less. Please do consider the offer. As I said, I'm anxious to get started on the restoration. I've put it off for far too long, but now that I've made up my mind, I find myself impatient to have it done with.”

“I'll make a call and see about rearranging my schedule,” I said, mentally going over my commitments for the rest of the week. “Will it be all right if I let you know later this afternoon?”

“Yes, of course. Just leave a message with Grace Anne. She'll make sure I get it.”

I nodded my agreement. “I won't keep you, but may I ask a favor before I go?”

She lifted a curious brow.

“I understand Dr. Shaw has already begun his investigation at the cemetery. I'd like to drop by there to see him this afternoon if you've no objection.”

“I've no particular objection, but the cemetery is difficult to get to. Are you sure you can find it on your own?”

“Dr. Shaw gave me a map and I can always call him if I get lost.”

She gave a brief nod. “You're anxious to see Rose's grave, I expect.”

“I'm interested in the whole cemetery, but I can't deny a fascination for a grave with my name on it.”

“You do look so much like her,” Louvenia mused. “At least, the way she looked when she first came here.”

“Miss Toombs said she and her twin were very devoted to Rose.”

“They adored her. She was always so gentle with them and so very protective. I'm thankful they had her in their lives, even if for only a short while. God knows they had little enough joy. People can be so unspeakably cruel.”