The Visitor (9 page)

“Forgive me for staring...the resemblance is just so startling.”

My attention sharpened. “Resemblance?”

“Did you not notice how Louvenia and I were both gawking at you earlier? I could hardly believe my eyes when Dr. Shaw pointed you out to us.”

“I don't understand. I look like someone you know...or knew?”

“You are the spitting image of Rose, Miss Gray. If I didn't know better, I'd think she had somehow managed to return from the grave. I expect that's why I find it so easy to talk to you. It's like having her back after all these years.”

“How...interesting.” It was difficult to keep my voice even when my pulse had jumped so erratically at her revelation.

“I was quite overcome when I first saw you,” Nelda said. “But now that I've had time to ponder the situation, I think you must somehow be related to her. You even share the same last name.”

“She was a Gray?”

“By marriage, I think. Do you have people in the Isola area?”

“Not that I'm aware of, but I know very little about my family. I suppose it could be just one of those odd coincidences. Gray is a common last name.”

“No, I don't think so,” Nelda mused. “Things happen for a reason, I always say. Dr. Shaw bringing us out here to meet you... Rose moving to Isola just when Mott and I needed her the most...”

Mott.

At the mention of that strange name, it was as if a dark cloud had moved over the sun. A shadow fell across the landscape and I heard the eerie rattle of a cicada somewhere nearby.

Rustling leaves drew my attention to one of the live oaks that had been planted around the edge of the cemetery. The drooping limbs provided easy access over the wall, and for a moment, I thought someone might be up there hidden by the foliage.

A flock of blackbirds took flight, and I lifted my gaze to the cloudless sky, concentrating so intently on those flapping wings that I almost missed the stealthy shadow near the wall. A distorted form that faded so well into the gloom I wondered if my dazzled vision had played a trick on me.

But no. Something was definitely there.

The form was humanlike, female and tiny—little more than four feet tall I would guess—with a pronounced hump on her back. Not a ghost, not a shadow being, she was unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

My nerve endings bristled a warning. Here was yet another danger, another fear. The veil had parted, allowing something else to slip through.

The rules kept you safe
, Papa had once told me.
But you broke them and now that the door has been opened, you're vulnerable.

To all manner of entities, it seemed.

The silhouette moved slowly, using the shadows so effectively I had trouble tracking her. She was childlike in stature, but her features were wizened and not quite of this world. As I peered through the deep shade, she turned and looked directly at me as if to acknowledge my notice. The sensation was so creepy and invasive I took a step back, my heart flailing.

As I stood there enthralled, she threw back her head and opened her mouth wide as if to call to someone—or to something—unseen. But the sound that sprang from her throat was more insect than human. Like the rattle of a cicada, plaintive and chilling.

Thirteen

S
everal moments passed and still I couldn't tear my attention from the wall, even though the silhouette had disappeared into the deeper shadows.

Nelda Toombs was still chatting away beside me, oblivious to anything amiss. But suddenly it came to me that the smock-like jacket she wore over her dress not only covered her shriveled body, but also disguised what most would assume was a dowager's hump on her back.

One of the twins died. The other was so distraught that she tried to hide her sister's passing by using cloves to cover up the smell.

Even as Dr. Shaw's words came back to me, even as I turned to once again search the shadows, I reminded myself that sometimes the things I saw and heard and smelled really were products of my imagination. The sun had clouded my eyes and the shadowy form had been fleeting. Woods surrounded the cemetery. Wasn't it possible that I'd heard an actual cicada?

But what of that insect husk on my nightstand? What of that face in the stereogram, the voices in my head?

Logic wasn't going to work. I knew what I knew.

“Are you all right?” Nelda asked in concern. “You look quite pale all of a sudden.”

“I'm...still shaky from the fall, I guess. It was a little more serious than I let on to Dr. Shaw. In fact, I was just released from the hospital this morning.”

“Bless your heart. I don't wonder you're shaky. Perhaps you should be home resting.”

I managed a faint smile. “I'll be fine. I'm enjoying our conversation. And I must say, I'm very curious about the woman you say I look so much like.”

Nelda's expression turned wistful. “Rose was everything to us. Our protector and champion and the closest thing to a mother that Mott and I ever knew.”

“Mott was your sister?”

“She was so much more than that, Miss Gray. We were born conjoined, you see. She was a part of me. Closer even than a mirror twin.”

I swallowed past the foreboding that bloomed in my throat. “Mott is such an unusual name. I don't believe I've ever heard it before.”

“When we were little, I couldn't pronounce Maudette so she became Mott and I was Neddy. We lost her many years ago.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Thank you, but in some ways it was a blessing. We had a difficult childhood, you see. Shunned and bullied because we were different. But...” An apologetic smile flashed. “That was a long time ago and, as Louvenia said, it has no bearing on why we've come to see you today. Besides, I've rambled on long enough and I think she's ready to leave.”

I glanced down the path to where Dr. Shaw and Louvenia still lingered. She scowled in our direction as though worried about what her sister might tell me.

Nelda leaned in suddenly and put her hand on my arm. For a breathless moment, the scent of cloves overwhelmed me. “Come see me when you get to Isola. There are things about that cemetery you should know before you agree to the restoration.”

“What things?”

“Not here. Not with
him
watching.”

I thought at first she meant Dr. Shaw, but then I noticed a young man just inside the gates. He stood with arms folded, back resting against the wall as he stared down the path to where we stood talking. I felt a chill go through me as our gazes connected, and I could have sworn I saw him smirk.

He looked to be just shy of six feet and so slender he might have seemed delicate except for the undercurrent of violence that belied his angelic visage. His hair was a strange silvery gold and his eyes were so light they appeared transparent from a distance. His unusual features were at once arresting and unsettling, and I couldn't seem to tear my gaze away.

“My great-nephew, Micah,” Nelda said softly. “You're not the first to fall under his spell. He has a way about him, does he not?”

“He's very striking,” I murmured.

“He was born with the face of an angel, but looks can be deceiving.” She was still holding my arm and I felt her grip tighten. “You should know that Micah is not at all in favor of a restoration.”

“Why not?”

“Not here,” she said again. “Just promise you'll come see me in Isola.”

I nodded, sliding my arm away as the hair on the back of my neck lifted. So many images swirled in my head as I watched her shuffle away.

The stereogram of those strange girls...

The arresting young man at the cemetery entrance...

The hunchback entity I'd seen in the shadows... The noises in my wall... The nesting in my cellar...

I had no idea how these events were connected, but like Nelda Toombs, I didn't think any of them a coincidence.

Fourteen

“T
hat was certainly an odd visit,” I said a few minutes later when Dr. Shaw had rejoined me. I moved off the trail into the shade.

“Wasn't it, though?” He chuckled as he followed me underneath the tree. “They are quite the eccentric pair,” he said, without a trace of irony. “It's been a few years since my dealings with Mrs. Durant, so I was quite surprised when they turned up at the Institute this morning without an appointment. I hope you don't mind that I invited them here to meet you.”

I swatted a mosquito on the back of my arm. “I don't mind. But are you telling me they just showed up out of the blue? Right after we had that long conversation about Kroll Cemetery?”

“The timing is curious,” he agreed. “But I don't see how it can be anything other than happenstance. I never mentioned that conversation to anyone. Did you?”

“I told Devlin. I had to. My house was broken into last night and I thought it might be related to the viewer.”

“Related how?”

“Before I came to the Institute yesterday, I took the stereoscope to a place on King Street called Dowling Curiosities. I was hoping they could be of some help in tracking down the owner since the piece came from that shop. The man I spoke to was named Owen Dowling. Probably my imagination, but I thought I saw him again later at the hospital.”

“Hospital?”

“There was a bit of a scuffle during the break-in, but I'm fine.”

“Was the suspect apprehended?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Owen Dowling,” Dr. Shaw said thoughtfully. “What did he look like?”

“Tallish and slender. Dark blond hair. Midthirties. Why?”

“A young man accompanied Mrs. Durant and Miss Toombs to the Institute this morning. He didn't come in, but I saw him pacing in the parking area when I walked them out to their car. He was younger than the man you described. Early twenties, I would guess, and his hair was very pale.”

“I know who you mean. He was here just a few minutes ago. You didn't see him at the entrance? Nelda called him Micah. He's her great-nephew, which would make him Louvenia's grandson, I suppose.”

“Ah. Then that makes sense. Mrs. Durant mentioned earlier that her grandson had been away for a number of years but had recently returned to live with her on the farm. I gather he thinks a restoration would be a waste of her money.”

“Yes, Nelda said he was against it.”

Dr. Shaw's expression turned anxious. “That young man... His presence was extremely unnerving. It's hard to explain, but I actually experienced a chill down my spine when he turned his eyes upon me.”

“I felt it, too, but he's not the only one who unnerved me today. Do you remember what you told me about Ezra Kroll's twin sisters? When one of them died, the other tried to cover her passing by using cloves to disguise the smell. I'm certain Nelda Toombs was that girl. The living twin.”

“I've had the same thought,” Dr. Shaw said with a nod.

“She called her sister Mott, which is the name in the stereoscope's inscription. She also said I look very much like someone named Rose, the last person buried in Kroll Cemetery. But it's not just that I look like her. Her last name was Gray and my middle name is Rose.”

His snowy brows lifted. “That would be an extraordinary coincidence, wouldn't it? Have you spoken to anyone in your family about the resemblance?”

“No. My father would be the one to know if there's a connection, but I've been reluctant to bring him into this because he's not always the easiest person to talk to.” Papa's withdrawal was only a small part of my reluctance. I was afraid to uncover any more of his secrets because they had a way of changing my life.

“Dr. Shaw...” I paused, glancing up into the trees as a breeze rustled the leaves. “Something very strange is going on with these women.” I didn't just mean Louvenia Durant and Nelda Toombs, but also the blind ghost and the hunchback in-between. All of them were linked. By blood, by friendship, perhaps even by death. But how were they connected to me?

“Something strange indeed,” Dr. Shaw said. “However, I'm afraid further speculation will have to wait until later. The ceremony is about to start and afterward I'll be tied up with committee business for the rest of the day. Could you come by the Institute tomorrow? Say around two?”

“I'll be there.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we join the others?”

“Yes, by all means,” I said wearily. “Let's get this over with.”

* * *

Dr. Shaw spoke first on behalf of the committee and afterward I was called upon to say a few words about my work. I made no mention of the violent history that lay beneath the cemetery but instead touched upon the methods and techniques I'd employed and how, even though cemetery restoration was my business, I always encouraged cemetery
preservation
. Too much damage to stone, layout and symbolic foliage could be wrought by the hands of the well-meaning but untrained restorer. Then I ended my remarks as I always did with what Papa called the cardinal rule of cemetery visitation: take nothing, leave nothing behind.

A smattering of polite applause and murmurs of appreciation, a few questions and it was all over. I returned the gate key to Dr. Shaw and breathed a sigh of relief at the closing of a very dark and disturbing chapter in my life.

Temple came up beside me. “You've become an engaging speaker. You had that group in the palm of your hand.”

“Thanks. I learned from the best,” I said, referring to my time with her in the state archaeologist's office.

She was silent for a moment. “What I said earlier about your relationship with Devlin. That you're an unlikely pairing. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

“You didn't. As you said, I've thought the same thing myself on occasion.”

Her expression sobered. “Can I be frank? I worry about you sometimes.”

I looked at her in surprise. “Why?”

“A person doesn't go through what John Devlin did and come out unscathed. That man has darkness in him.”

“We all have darkness,” I said.

“Not like him. Surely it hasn't escaped your notice that bad things happen to the people around him.”

My hackles rose in defense. “You can't blame him for that.”

“Maybe not, but—”

She broke off, her gaze going past me to the entrance. I thought by her startled expression that she'd spotted the mysterious Micah Durant or perhaps even the hunchback silhouette. But then I felt a familiar tingle along my spine and I turned.

Devlin strode along the path toward us. Maybe it was Temple's warning or all the strange events occurring around me, but I couldn't help shivering as our gazes locked.

He was dressed in black, the European cut of his trousers and jacket giving a stylish edge to his otherwise somber attire. He was clean shaven, his hair neatly combed, and when he turned his head, the silver at his temple caught the sunlight.

And I caught my breath.