The Visitor (26 page)

Forty-Six

“H
ow could you possibly know that would happen?” Devlin asked in awe. We were still sitting in the dark watching the pointer hover over the number seven.

“I didn't. But I knew the time in the poem meant something important.”

“But the poem doesn't take into account the position of the sun at various times of the year. Tell me how you knew that would happen
today
,” he insisted.

“I knew because Rose knew.”

“Rose is dead. She's been dead for decades.” His voice held a strained, hushed quality that made me shiver.

“There's a reason I was drawn to this place at this particular time. None of this is coincidental. Don't you see? Rose summoned me here so that I could find this.”

“Amelia—”

“I know you don't believe me, but I can prove it. Let's go back to the cemetery and find the number on a headstone. If nothing's there, then maybe I'm wrong. But if we uncover another clue...”

He rose and pulled me to my feet. “Then what? Where does it end?”

“When the puzzle is solved.” When the murderer was revealed and the ghosts were finally free. Only then would my great-grandmother be able to rest in peace.

* * *

A few minutes later, we were back in the cemetery and had located the corresponding headstone. Like all the other markers, the number was etched into the face, but I could detect nothing extraordinary about the grave or the monument. The name in the inscription meant nothing to me. The deceased was but one of three dozen colonists whose lives had abruptly ended on that fateful day.

I dropped to the ground beside the grave, tracing the symbols with my fingertip as I searched for the next clue. Devlin knelt on the other side and smoothed his hand over the surface of the stone.

“Do you feel anything?” I asked.

“No, do you?”

“There's something strange about the key engraving,” I said. “The bow looks a bit like an eye. And see those three tiny perforations? I believe that's a keyhole.”

I removed the strange eye key from my pocket and held it in my palm for a moment.

“Another long story?” Devlin's gaze was dark and inquiring.

You have no idea
, I thought as I wordlessly inserted the pointed teeth into the punctures and felt something catch. The tumblers clicked and then Devlin and I watched in fascination as a compartment slid open at the base of the headstone.

“Now do you believe me?” I asked.

He glanced up. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”

“Yes, but usually in older graveyards. Hidden compartments in coffins and tombs were once very common. They were used to keep grave robbers from finding valuables buried with the deceased.”

Devlin removed a small pouch from the space and handed it across the grave to me. “You should do the honors.”

I didn't know what I expected to find. A part of me had been hoping that Rose had squirreled away her long-lost key inside. I tried to tamp down my disappointment as I withdrew yet another stereogram.

Devlin came around the grave to examine the card over my shoulder. “Is that who I think it is?”

“It's Nelda Toombs. The photos must have been taken not long after Mott died. Look at her awkward posture and the odd angle of her body. It's almost as if her sister were still attached to her.”

“Maybe after the surgery she experienced something akin to the phantom-limb syndrome.” Devlin cocked his head as he studied the dual images. “The composition seems off. Nelda is standing far to the side, but there's nothing else in the frame except the house in the background.”

“That's because Nelda wasn't the focal point,” I said. “At least, I don't think she was. I found a stack of similar stereograms in Rose's dark room yesterday. They were all shots of her house taken from different angles at various times of day. I know this sounds strange. Unbelievable even. But I think Rose was trying to capture a three-dimensional image of something that couldn't be seen with the naked eye or even in a regular photograph. Something she'd trapped beneath her house.”

Devlin didn't say anything to that, but he must have again wondered if I'd taken leave of my senses. I could hardly blame him. I sounded unbalanced even to my own ears, but for once, his incredulity didn't thwart me. I plunged on, speaking almost to myself as I tried to work it all out. “I thought she'd installed the enclosure around the house to keep the entity inside, but that doesn't make sense because what we encountered last night had no real form or substance. She must have had another means of containing or controlling it.” My hand strayed to the skeleton key around my neck. “The fence was never meant to keep the entity in, but to keep the unsuspecting out.”

“The unsuspecting?” he asked in the same careful voice I'd heard earlier on the porch.

“Rose knew the entity preyed on the weak and the innocent, and there were children living nearby in Kroll Colony. All it would have taken was a taunt or a dare for one of them to crawl up under the house.”

Devlin placed his hands on my shoulders and turned me to face him. “That's an interesting theory, but you know it's based on nothing more than imagination and conjecture, right?”

“Then, how do you explain the timing of my visit? How do you explain what we saw in the dark room and what we found in the cemetery?”

“I can't. But I refuse to buy into this fantasy you've hobbled together from an inscription on an old headstone and your great-grandmother's bizarre obsessions. Not to mention the general creepiness of this place. It's not real, Amelia. None of this is real.”

So many things went through my mind at that moment. I might have told him I knew he'd said something similar to his grandfather recently because I had the ability to invade his memories and eavesdrop on his past. I might have reminded him that despite his adamant refusal to believe in the unknown, he'd had an encounter with his daughter's ghost only moments before he'd been shot last fall. I might have confided in him about my gift and my legacy and a growing fear of where all of this might lead us.

I might have told him any number of things that would have irrevocably changed the course of our relationship forever. But the sound of a ringtone interrupted me. Or at the very least, delayed me.

We both glanced at our displays.

“That's you,” Devlin said, and I lifted the phone to my ear.

“Amelia Gray?” a tentative voice inquired.

“Yes?”

“This is Nelda... Neddy. I got your number from Dr. Shaw. I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you'd want to know that he's been rushed to the hospital. The ambulance just left a little while ago.” She paused. “I don't mean to alarm you, but he was very pale and he couldn't seem to catch his breath.”

“No, no, I'm glad you called me. What's the name of the hospital?”

“County General. It's on Main Street. You can't miss it.”

“I'm on my way,” I told her.

“What is it?” Devlin asked when I ended the call.

“Dr. Shaw's been taken to the hospital. I don't know how bad he is, but Nelda sounded worried. We have to get back to town at once.”

“Of course.” He nodded toward the stereogram I still clutched in my hand. “Should I put that back where we found it?”

I hesitated. “I need to study it through a viewer first.”

He knelt and closed the compartment while I stored the card in my backpack. As we hurried through the cemetery gate, Papa's warning rang in my ears, and I couldn't help but wonder about the consequences of breaking yet another of his rules.

Take nothing, leave nothing behind.

* * *

All the way to the hospital, I kept picturing Dr. Shaw lying prone in a hospital bed, pale, unconscious and hooked up to all manner of wires and tubes. Instead, I found him sitting up in bed in a private room with a single IV connected to the vein in the back of his hand.

“I'm sorry to have worried you,” he said. “I'm still undergoing some tests, but the main culprit seems to be dehydration.”

“That's nothing to take lightly,” I said. “I'm glad Nelda was there to call an ambulance.”

“Yes, she was quite distressed. Please let her know that I'm fine.”

“I will.”

He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes. “Tell me about your morning at the cemetery.”

“I'll tell you all about that later, but right now you need to rest.”

He nodded weakly. “I am very tired.”

“Then, sleep. I'll be right outside if you need me.”

I found Devlin—phone to ear—pacing in the courtyard off the waiting room. He looked agitated and angry, but a mask descended as soon as he saw me. He put away the phone as I approached. “How is he?”

“The doctors are still running some tests, but they think he's suffering from dehydration, probably from all the hours in the sun over the past couple of days. He's not used to the heat. He's feeling better but still pretty weak. I'd like to stay here with him just to make sure he's okay.”

Devlin nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. I wish I could stay, too, but something's come up. I have to get back to Charleston.”

I noticed the worry lines across his brow then and the shadow that darkened his eyes. “Is everything okay?” I asked anxiously.

He glanced away as he seemed to gather his thoughts. “My grandfather has disappeared.”

His calm manner of delivering the news was almost as disturbing as the revelation. “Disappeared? From the hospital?”

“No. He talked his doctor into releasing him yesterday afternoon, and he insisted on going back to the beach house. Apparently, when his assistant went to check on him this morning, he wasn't in his room. She and the others searched the house and grounds before calling the police.”

“Why didn't they call you?”

“I doubt I'm high on his contact list.”

“No one has any idea why he left? Or where he might have gone?”

“There was no sign of a struggle and no reason to suspect foul play. The best anyone can tell, he got up this morning, walked out the door without being detected and vanished.”

“What about his car?”

“None of the vehicles are missing, nor was his driver notified. It's possible he called a taxi or had someone pick him up. It's also possible this could be another of his manipulations. He hasn't had much luck getting me to come around to his way of thinking, so he could be trying a different tactic.”

“You don't really believe that, do you?”

“If you knew my grandfather, you wouldn't ask that question,” Devlin said. “But in any case, I have to go.”

“Of course. You'll let me know as soon as you hear anything?”

“Yes. And when I come back...” There was a slight hesitation before he said, “We need to talk.”

My heart turned over at the look on his face. After everything he'd seen and heard since his arrival last night, I couldn't blame him for needing answers or for questioning my sanity. I wanted to assure him that all would be well, but I had my own doubts so I merely nodded.

Devlin was still staring down at me. “What you said earlier in the cemetery is eerily reminiscent of the things my grandfather has been saying lately. Yet the two of you have never met.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ghosts. Demons.” He shook his head as his gaze deepened. “I still can't give credence to any of it, but I also can't deny that something strange is going on. Until I can figure out what he's up to, I need you to promise me you'll be careful. I'll be back as soon as I can, hopefully by nightfall. In the meantime, just sit tight. Don't go back out to the cemetery or to Rose's house alone. It's not safe.”

I nodded vaguely as my mind churned with more questions. What had his grandfather told him about ghosts and demons? And how could any of it possibly be connected to me?

Forty-Seven

D
r. Shaw was dozing when I came back into his room. I slipped quietly into the chair beside his bed and opened the paperback novel I'd found in the waiting room. Perhaps it was the sleepless night I'd spent or the pressure I'd been feeling for days, but I found myself growing drowsy as I tried to make sense of the story. Twice I nodded off only to jerk myself awake. The second time I opened my eyes, I found Dr. Shaw watching me.

“I thought you'd gone,” he said.

I set the book aside and tried to shake off the grogginess as I got up to fuss with his covers. “I've been here the whole time. Can I get you anything?”

“No, I'm fine, my dear. I'm still feeling a bit done in. I think I may try to go back to sleep for a while.”

“That's an excellent idea. I'll be right here when you wake up.”

He reached for my hand. “There's something I must tell you first. Something you need to know.”

“What is it?” He motioned for me to come closer. I sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned in. “What is it, Dr. Shaw?”

His skin felt icy as his fingers closed around mine. I wanted to pull away, but I was afraid of upsetting him. “You have to go back.”

The urgency in his voice startled me. “Where? To Charleston?”

“To the cemetery. You have to find a way to free them.”

My breath caught at the look on his face. “The ghosts?”

“Think how long they've been waiting. How long we've all been waiting for you.” His eyes glazed and his voice softened. The chill of death descended and I began to tremble because I knew that I was no longer speaking to Dr. Shaw. I tried to wrench myself free, but those glacial fingers tightened around me. “You're the last of us, child.”

My heart pounded so hard I actually felt faint. “What do you mean? The last of who...what?”

“The Wysongs. The chosen.”

Something fearful skittered down my backbone and I shivered.

“You've always known you were different. You've always felt the ghosts even when you couldn't see them. Now as you come into your own and your energy strengthens, more and more will come, drawn by your light and the promise of release. Others will come, too, child. The pernicious and the sly. They will also be lured by your light, but the dark ones will seek to destroy the very thing that attracts them.”

I thought of the entity beneath Rose's house, the feel of its phantom fingers in my hair, the taunt of its ghostly tongue against my face. I drew a shuddering breath. “Why are you telling me this? What is it you want me to do?”

“You must hunt them down, the dark ones. You must find a way to contain them.”

“How?”

“Use the key. Study the stereogram. Let the numbers guide you.”

I jumped and startled myself awake. The book slipped to the floor with a thud and I looked around in confusion.

A nurse stood at the side of the bed writing something in Dr. Shaw's chart. She smiled when she saw that I was awake. “I didn't mean to scare you,” she said. “You were both sleeping so peacefully I was hoping not to disturb you.”

I sat up in the chair. “What time is it?”

“A little after five. Are you all right? You seem disoriented.”

“Still half-asleep, I guess.”

“Why don't you take a walk and stretch your legs? We'll be bringing the dinner trays in soon. Maybe you'd like to go down to the cafeteria and grab a bite. You don't need to worry about Dr. Shaw. He's in good hands.”

“Thanks.” As I reached down to pick up my backpack from the floor, I thought of the stereogram that Devlin and I had found in the headstone.

Use the key. Study the stereogram. Let the numbers guide you.

My gaze shot to Dr. Shaw. Had I dreamed the conversation or had Rose somehow spoken to me through my old friend?

As I hovered at his bedside, he opened his eyes and smiled up at me.