The Visitor (19 page)

Thirty-Three

I
didn't let up on the gas or breathe easy until I was well away from all those bees. Once I no longer felt threatened, I started to worry about Dr. Shaw and the remoteness of Kroll Cemetery. I comforted myself with the knowledge that he wasn't alone. He had at least one investigator with him.

Even so, I felt the need to warn him of my growing unease about the Kroll family. Micah wasn't the only one who had left me unsettled. Louvenia Durant was an enigmatic woman who seemed haunted by her past. This alone was not enough to make me distrust her, but I did have to wonder about her guilty conscience and the falling-out she'd had with Ezra. If he really had cut her out of his will—a will that had never been found—then she was the one who had stood to gain the most from his death.

All of this rolled around in my head as I placed a call to Dr. Shaw. When he finally answered, I told him of my trepidation and then repeated Owen's maze instructions to him to make certain that I hadn't been deliberately misled.

“Directions don't mean much in the maze or even in the woods,” Dr. Shaw warned me. “They're both quite disorienting. I've never experienced anything like them. I think it best that I meet you at the end of the road and walk you through.”

“That's probably a good idea, but please be careful, Dr. Shaw. Maybe I'm being overly cautious or even paranoid, but despite Louvenia's invitation, I'm not sure either of us is particularly welcome here.”

His voice sharpened. “Has something else happened?”

“I'll tell you all about it when I see you. For now just please keep an eye out.”

“You as well, my dear. I'm heading out now, but in case you arrive first, wait for me in your car.”

“I will.”

We said our goodbyes and then I turned my full attention to the road. The light shining through the windshield was warm and so bright I found myself squinting even behind sunglasses. As I came around the first curve, I slowed the vehicle, my eyes on the passing hedgerows as Owen had instructed.

Even though he'd been exact in his directions, I still ended up making three passes before I finally spotted the cross. It was set back from the road and so tilted from decades of wind and rain that it was nearly invisible against a backdrop of weeds and brambles.

The road to the farm was private so I didn't have to worry about traffic. I sat with the engine idling as I searched for the entrance. From my vantage, the road looked to be nothing more than two dirt tracks disappearing into the trees. As I scanned the access, I detected the remnants of an old wrought iron archway covered almost entirely by ivy. The vines were entwined around and through the scrollwork so that the dangling curlicues provided a natural curtain over the entrance.

I made the turn cautiously, easing through the lush tendrils as my apprehension mounted. I'd been looking forward to a tour of Kroll Cemetery with Dr. Shaw, but now as I headed straight back into the forest, I couldn't forget something he had said to me the other night on the phone. He had the sense that I was approaching a crossroads in my life, a spiritual turning point from which there would be no return.

I glanced in the rearview mirror. The vines falling back over the entrance seemed symbolic—like the closing of a door.

Taking a resolved breath, I forced my attention to the overgrown trail in front of me. It was cool and dark in the woods. I rolled down my window, allowing the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle to seep in, along with the woodsy aroma of the evergreens.

But as I drove deeper into the trees, a heavy stillness settled over the trail, a claustrophobic oppression that didn't come from the heat of the afternoon or the closeness of the woods but from something unnatural. Quickly, I raised the window as if a layer of glass could protect me from those dark things that slithered through the underbrush. Things I couldn't yet see but knew were there just the same. I tried to ignore my newfound perception, but the feeling of being watched, of being
sought
, grew more and more pervasive.

A quick glance at the map assured me that I was still some distance from our rendezvous point, and yet I could sense Kroll Cemetery as though it were a living, breathing entity. Such a notion would have seemed strange even to me a few days ago, but now I wondered if I really had crossed a threshold.

The noise in my head began as a low rumble that ebbed and flowed as the vehicle bumped along the tracks. Not the droning of Micah Durant's bees, but a humming of what I imagined to be the dark emotions of all those trapped souls. I could feel the vibration all the way through my being. My own heart started to pound in unison, as if I were becoming one with that pulsating throng.

The awareness intensified as a gust of wind blew through the trees, rippling the leaves in an isolated pattern that reminded me of a wave crashing to shore. As the undulation swept toward me, the windows fogged and the whole car began to tremble as though caught in a powerful vortex. The air grew thick and fetid and flies began to gather on my windshield.

It was hours until twilight and yet I could feel something bearing down on me from beyond. A collective presence straining against the shackles of death.

I wanted nothing so much as to lower the window and let a fresh breeze scrub away the foulness inside my car, but I didn't dare. I didn't know what was out there. I could feel the chill of the ghosts, but there was something else pushing me
away
from Kroll Cemetery. It was as if I'd been caught between two opposing forces.

I'd come to a complete stop without even realizing it, my hands still gripping the wheel. The sense of dread overpowered me as I sat there scanning the woods. Every now and then I glimpsed something white and wispy floating through the trees. If I stared long enough, I spotted diaphanous bodies crouched on low branches, pale faces with hollow eyes and gaping mouths staring down at me.

The forest was deeply haunted. A thin place. A dark place.

Find the key
, I could hear Rose whisper.
Save yourself.

Carefully, I removed the three keys from my backpack and placed them on the seat beside me—the key that had been tossed into my cellar, the key that had been left in Rosehill Cemetery and the strange key that matched the motes in my eyes. All three were different. Each served a special purpose.

I hadn't wanted to touch any of them when they'd first been left on my nightstand. I'd been too afraid my curiosity would be misconstrued as acceptance of a gift or offering. Or worse, barter for my soul.

But the keys no longer frightened me. Instead, I felt compelled to keep them close. On impulse, I slipped the pink satin ribbon over my head, allowing the skeleton key to rest against my chest. The metal instantly illuminated as it had in Rosehill Cemetery. The voices grew louder, screaming for release as the pressure in my chest tightened. I could feel a rush inside me, almost like a strong wind being sucked through an open doorway.

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.

I tamped down my runaway imagination as I pressed the call button yet again. I told myself there might be any number of reasons why he couldn't or wouldn't answer. Maybe he wasn't getting a signal. Maybe he'd set the phone down and forgotten to bring it with him when he came to meet me.

My first instinct was to hightail it back to the main road and get someone to help me search. Despite all my ghost sightings and years of working in isolated cemeteries, I didn't want to be alone in that forest. Not after the terrifying incident on the trail. The foulness of an unknown presence and the opposing rush of wind had left me frightened, not to mention the fact that two of the keys had somehow come alive as I approached Kroll Cemetery. This did not bode well. I wanted nothing so much as to hurry off to the nearest bit of hallowed ground where I could protect myself from what was coming.

But I couldn't shake a shivery premonition that the ghosts should be the least of my worries at the moment. Time might be of the essence for Dr. Shaw. If I left the woods only to find out later that something had happened to him, I'd never forgive myself.

Taking one last survey of my surroundings, I grabbed my backpack from the car after safely stowing the two loose keys in the zippered pocket. Then I locked the door before setting out on the footpath.

The closeness of the woods soon engulfed me. I could hear water dripping somewhere nearby, but I couldn't pinpoint the source. If I stopped on the path and turned in a circle, the sound seemed to follow me. Working alone in remote locations as I had for so many years, I'd developed a good sense of direction. But Dr. Shaw was right. The lack of sunlight and the sameness of my surroundings proved disorienting.

I kept going, stopping periodically to take out my phone. No matter how many times I called or how far along the path I traveled, the ringing seemed to come from somewhere ahead of me.

But if the scenery could be disorienting, it stood to reason that sound might also be distorted. I wanted to call out to Dr. Shaw, shout his name at the top of my lungs, but my every instinct warned that it might not be wise to broadcast my whereabouts. If he was moving away from me, back toward the cemetery, then he must have a good reason.

The trees along the path grew ever denser, the hardwoods and evergreens gradually giving way to overgrown hedges of boxwood, honeysuckle and gardenia. The shrubbery formed a tunnel with narrow channels breaking off on either side. I stopped and glanced around with quickening breath. I had come to the entrance of the maze.

The opening was shrouded, but I could see where the vines and bushes had recently been chopped back to reveal bits of rusted metal beneath the greenery.

The maze was so much larger than I had expected. I could hardly imagine Rose in her state of confusion planning something so intricate. The planting alone would have taken a very long time, and I couldn't help wondering about her original intent. Had she meant to thwart trespassers or to keep the ghosts trapped inside Kroll Cemetery?

As I stepped through the entrance, the untamed shrubbery rose twenty feet or more. The tapestry of leaves and limbs was so tightly interwoven that I could see nothing of the other channels. It had been cool and dim in the woods, but the dense vegetation constricted airflow. I started to perspire and soon found myself a little short-winded as I trudged along. I remembered Owen's instructions and followed the path wherever it veered or broke left, keeping my eyes peeled for footprints in the dirt or broken twigs in the hedges that would let me know someone had passed this way before me.

Eventually, I came to a spot where the main path seemed to angle to the right, but there was no branching trail to the left. I had the strongest urge to keep going. It was almost like a magnet pulling me forward, but even as I felt that strange tug, I realized I was experiencing a very clever illusion. There was, indeed, a path to the left, another choice, but the hedge wall curved in such a way as to obscure the entrance. I would never have noticed without Owen's warning.

After making the turn, I soon arrived at the cemetery gate, a wrought iron affair so cloaked in ivy that I couldn't see through into the graveyard. The brick wall in which it had been set was at least ten feet high. I could have climbed a tree and jumped over, but not without some difficulty.

Slipping off my backpack, I searched for the loose brick that would release the catch. As I moved in closer, I noticed that the gate stood ajar and rocked slightly as if someone had passed through it just before me.

I paused, listening to the silence. There was no sound at all now, no matter how focused my attention. No scurrying feet. No rustling leaves. Just the soft rush of my own breathing. I tried to steady my nerves as I called Dr. Shaw's number yet again. The ringtone was definitely louder. Without a doubt, the phone was inside the cemetery.

As I pushed open the gate, I became aware of the weight of the skeleton key around my neck. Perhaps it was nothing more than my imagination, but I could have sworn I felt the heat of it against my skin.

As I slipped through the entrance something occurred to me. Here in Kroll Cemetery, I was the visitor. A welcome one I hoped, but who could say for certain?