The Sinner Read online

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

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

  Sixteen

  While 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.

  Seventeen

  The two officers hadn’t been gone long when the sound of a car engine drew my attention back to the road. I was still sitting on the front porch reflecting on all that had happened when a black SUV pulled into the driveway.

  My heart skipped a beat, but whether in excitement or apprehension, I wasn’t certain, nor did I care to examine my reaction too closely. Given Malloy’s vague warning and my own suspicions regarding Lucien Kendrick, it was only natural that I should have a few palpitations at the unexpected sight of him.

  As I watched him get out of his vehicle and walk toward me, I told myself those tiny flutters were the result of trepidation and nothing more. It was foreboding, not anticipation, that tingled down my spine and pulsed at my throat. It couldn’t be anything else because I wasn’t ready for it to be anything else.

  But Malloy had touched upon an uncomfortable truth, one that I didn’t like to dwell on. I did get lonely. I enjoyed the solitude of my cemeteries and the tranquility of my own company, but there were moments in the middle of the night when the bed seemed too big and the house too quiet. Moments when the weight of my aloneness became almost more than I could bear. It was during those times when sleep remained elusive and daylight seemed a distant memory that I wondered if it might be time to let go. If it might be time to move on.

  No easy thing, letting go. The pain I carried in my heart was constant and at times served as a comfort and a touchstone, the only thing I had left of Devlin. Once the pain went away, he might be lost to me forever.

  In all the time we’d been apart, my feelings for him had never wavered, may even have gro
wn stronger. But I couldn’t wait forever. I couldn’t trust that he would eventually resolve the issues that had torn him from my side. Carrying a torch for too long could easily turn into bitterness, or worse, an unhealthy obsession.

  But Lucien Kendrick wasn’t the man to help me get over a broken heart. In some ways, he was too much like Devlin. Too intense, too driven, too secretive. There was a difference, though. An important distinction between the two men that had been encapsulated in a single moment of understanding. I’ve seen a lot of things in my lifetime, he’d said to me in the cemetery. Unexplainable things. I learned a long time ago that it’s best to keep an open mind.

  Such a pronouncement might seem a small thing to most people, but not to someone like me. Not to someone with my gift. With the exception of Papa and Dr. Shaw, I’d never known anyone with whom I could share my experiences. Certainly not Devlin.

  I shivered as Kendrick paused at the bottom of the steps. My gaze went to that mysterious raised skin at the side of his neck, to the skull tattoo on the back of his hand and then to those tiny telltale marks where his eyebrow had once been pierced. His adornments intrigued me and yet I found his nonconformity a little unsettling, which undoubtedly said more about me than it did about him.

  The silence stretched for an uncomfortably long time. I began to worry that he’d picked up on my thoughts, but when he spoke, his voice sounded briskly professional. “Someone came by to take your statement?”

  “Officers Malloy and Reeves were here a few minutes ago. You just missed them. Malloy said you’d gone to the cemetery to have a look around.” I leaned forward anxiously. “Did you find anything? Or see anyone?”

  He propped a foot on the bottom step, gazing up at me. “The place was deserted. He probably fled the scene knowing you’d call the police.”

  “He?”

  “I’m using your pronoun. You told the dispatcher you saw a man lurking in the woods, right? This was after you’d smelled smoke.”

  “Yes.”

  “You also said he wore a mask over his face. Can you describe it?”