The Abandoned (the graveyard queen series) Read online

  “Thanks.”

  Ree kept walking, right on past the restroom, through the lobby, down the stairs and never once did she look back until she hit the parking lot. And only then when she heard someone call out her name.

  It was Hayden. He’d just gotten out of his car and was striding toward her. Relief washed over her and without thinking, she launched herself into his arms. He must have been caught completely by surprise, but he pulled her close without hesitation.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Ree pushed away just enough to glance over her shoulder. “I need to get out of here.”

  Nine out of ten men would have wasted time with more questions, but Hayden merely said, “My car’s right over here.”

  “What about mine?”

  “We’ll pick it up later. Come on.”

  A moment later, they sped out of the parking lot and wheeled onto the street.

  Hayden glanced at her. “Sorry I’m late, by the way. I got stuck in a meeting with the partners. No cell phones allowed so I couldn’t even text you.”

  “That’s okay.” It hit Ree then why he looked so different. He was wearing a suit. This was the attorney-to-be Hayden. The buttoned-down, conventional Hayden. “You look nice,” she said, a rather inane observation considering her predicament.

  “Thanks.” He loosened his tie and tossed it aside. Then he unbuttoned his collar. “Now I can breathe.”

  She found herself wondering about that subtext.

  “So what happened back there, Ree? You’re as white as a ghost.” He grimaced. “Sorry, bad joke.”

  She told him about Dr. Farrante.

  He heard her out, then shrugged. “You know, it’s possible he was there for the same reason as you.”

  “I thought about that. But there was something very strange about that meeting. I had the distinct impression they all knew one another. And they were so intense. I could practically smell the conspiracy.”

  “Through the glass and all the way across the squad room? That’s potent.” He sounded amused.

  “Make fun all you want, but I’m very good with body language. It’s one of my strengths.”

  “I’m sure it is. And I’m not making fun. Just playing devil’s advocate. What would those two detectives have to gain by conspiring with Nicholas Farrante?”

  “Maybe he’s bribing them. Or maybe they work for the Order of the Coffin and the Claw.”

  He swerved sharply to miss a squirrel.

  “It’s a secret society like the Skull and Bone Society at Yale,” she told him.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of it.” He kept his gaze focused on the road. “Most people assume it’s an urban legend. And anyway, what does it have to do with Farrante?”

  “I think he’s a member. I heard him tell Tisdale that he wouldn’t dare go against the wishes of the Order.”

  “Interesting,” Hayden mused. “Did he say anything else?”

  “About the Order? No, but I did some research last night,” Ree said. “It’s been around since before the Civil War. They recruit from only the most prominent families in Charleston and they’ve always had members in positions of power in government, business and academia. Evidently, they were once a force to be reckoned with in this city.”

  “Not to sound elitist, but it doesn’t seem like a police detective would meet that criteria,” Hayden said.

  “Oh, but Devlin would. He’s no run of the mill cop. He’s not a run of the mill anything. The way he speaks, dresses, carries himself…he’s from money. Old money. I’d swear on it.”

  Hayden shot her look. “He seems to have made quite an impression. Should I be jealous?”

  “No, he’s not my type,” Ree said with a shiver. “And if he has anything to do with the Order of the Coffin and the Claw, he’s really not my type.”

  “Good to know,” Hayden muttered.

  Ree stared out the window at the passing scenery. The morning was bright and sunny, but she focused on a bank of storm clouds in the distance. “I can’t believe this is happening. This time yesterday, my biggest worry was finishing my thesis so that I can graduate, find a job and start digging myself out of debt. Now I’m a material witness in a murder investigation. And for all I know, the cops could be looking for me right this very moment.”

  “Try to relax. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Easy for you to say.” She sighed. “Sorry. You’ve been great. I’m just on edge.”

  “That’s understandable. Maybe it would help if we go somewhere quiet and talk it through. When do you have class?”

  “Not until this afternoon. But I have a meeting with Amelia Gray at ten.”

  “Who’s she?”

  Ree tucked a strand of hair behind one hear. “Didn’t I tell you about her? She’s the cemetery restorer that Tisdale mentioned. We grew up in the same town so I contacted her. I thought she might be able to tell me something about Oak Grove.”

  “Good thinking. Mind if I tag along?”

  Ree turned to find him staring at her intently. His gaze unsettled her because she couldn’t quite read him yet. “Don’t you have to get back to the office?”

  He grinned. “They’re used to my disappearances. They’ll just think I’ve gone off somewhere to study for the bar.”

  “And how long have you been going off somewhere to study for the bar?” she asked lightly.

  “Since December. Circumstances kept me from taking the exam in February so now I’ll have to wait until July. Leaves me plenty of time for the odd side project.”

  Did he consider her one of those odd side projects? Ree wondered.

  He was watching her again, half smiling.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “Nothing. Tell me about this Amelia person we’re going to see.”

  Ree still wondered about that smile. “She was…different. I don’t ever remember seeing her at a party or a ball game or any other kind of social event. She spent a lot of time in cemeteries. Her father was a caretaker and I think she helped him out a lot. She wasn’t a total outcast, but she was known for being a bit of a freak.”

  “In that case, I look forward to meeting her,” Hayden said, and a prickle of jealousy caught Ree completely by surprise.

  A little while later, Ree wondered if she might have built up Amelia’s eccentricity a little too much because when she opened the door she couldn’t have looked more normal. No fluttering silk. No crown of roses. In fact, she was dressed much like Ree in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers. Light makeup. Ponytail. Just your average girl next door.

  Hayden lifted a brow and Ree shrugged as Amelia led them back to her office, a pleasant room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and tall windows that looked out on a garden. While she went to make tea, they studied the framed photos on the walls—graveyards double-exposed over cityscapes. The effect was lovely, but a little gloomy for Ree’s taste.

  “How long have you been interested in cemeteries?” Amelia asked as she came back in with a tea tray.

  “It’s a recent development,” Ree said. “Although I used to visit Rosehill with my grandmother. She loved all the symbols on the old headstones. She called it graveyard art.”

  “I love it, too,” Amelia said as she fiddled with the cups. “Gravestone symbolism can tell you a lot about the deceased. How they lived and how they died. And about the loved ones they left behind.” She offered them tea, then waved toward a chaise as she sat down behind her desk. Ree and Hayden perched side by side with their cups.

  Ree’s gaze slipped back to Amelia. She looked young and innocent sitting there in the morning light—younger than Ree, even—but there was something dark in her face. Something cold and shadowy behind her blue eyes.

  “So…Oak Grove Cemetery,” she finally said, and Ree could have sworn the woman shuddered as she said the name. But it was probably just her imagination. Why would Amelia Gray, of all people, be repulsed by the mention of a graveyard?

  “I understand you’re being considered
for the restoration,” Ree said. “That’s why I contacted you. I thought you might be able to answer some of my questions.”

  Amelia looked surprised. “I was led to believe the Oak Grove project is to be kept under wraps until the restoration is completed.”

  “I don’t know anything about that,” Ree said. “Your name was mentioned in a private conversation I overheard.”

  “I see.”

  “Specifically, we’re trying to find out when and why the cemetery was abandoned,” Hayden interjected. Until then, he’d been mostly silent, letting Ree take the lead. She glanced at him now as she set aside her cup. She found it both comforting and a little disconcerting to have him there with her. Comforting after the episode at the police station and disconcerting because she was so very aware of him. She’d never taken to anyone so quickly, though she realized the way they’d met had created a fantasy element to her attraction. A misty cemetery, a handsome stranger and a dream that had led her to both.

  Ree shivered as she forced her attention back to the present.

  “I’m afraid I can’t be of much help,” Amelia was saying. “I’ve walked the cemetery a few times in order to prepare my bid, but I don’t normally do a lot of research unless I’m awarded the contract.”

  “Can you at least tell us if there are any Tisdales buried in Oak Grove?” Ree asked hopefully. “Ilsa Tisdale perhaps?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. But if you’ve got the time and enough patience, you can probably find what you’re looking for in the Emerson library. Most of the Oak Grove records are stored in the archives.”

  “Thanks,” Ree said. “And thanks for seeing us this morning. I’m sorry we wasted your time.”

  “Before you go…there is something you should know about Oak Grove.”

  Ree had been in the process of standing, but now she dropped back down on the chaise. Something in Amelia’s voice, an echo of that darkness behind her eyes, caused Ree to draw a sharp breath. Hayden must have heard because she sensed his gaze on her.

  Amelia stared down into her cup, as if divining a message from the tea leaves. For some reason, Ree was reminded of her grandmother’s cousin, the one who had supposedly been born with a caul, leaving her with second sight.

  When Amelia looked up, Ree felt an odd sense of foreshadowing, like a premonition if she believed in cauls and second sight.

  “I’ve always found cemeteries to be lovely, restful places, even the forgotten ones. But Oak Grove is different. There’s something inside those walls I can’t explain. A feeling of darkness…” She trailed away, her gaze going to Hayden, as if sensing a kindred spirit.

  “I experienced a similar sensation in a small rural graveyard in Kansas,” he said.

  “Stull Cemetery,” she said.

  “You’ve been there?”

  “Once.” Her eyes darkened. “I’ve never been back.”

  “It was a strange experience,” Hayden said. “I definitely sensed something but the readings remained static. I was only able to pick up a minor, indistinguishable sound on the DVR. Pretty disappointing for a place that’s known as one of the seven lost gateways to hell.”

  “You’re an investigator?” Was that the vaguest hint of fear Ree heard in Amelia’s voice? “Amateur or professional?”

  Hayden shrugged. “A little of both, I guess. Right now I’m doing some work for the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies.”

  “You must know Rupert Shaw then.”

  “Everyone in my business knows Dr. Shaw,” Hayden said. “He’s a legend. How do you know him?”

  “He helped me find this house when I first moved to Charleston. I’ll always be grateful to him for that because I feel very safe here.”

  Ree realized she hadn’t said anything for several minutes. Their conversation about Stull Cemetery had both fascinated and repelled her. A lost gateway to hell? Seriously?

  Amelia plucked a polished stone from a basket she kept on her desk and handed it to Ree.

  “What’s this?”

  “A keepsake from Rosehill Cemetery,” she said. “When I was a little girl, I was certain these stones contained magical properties. I kept one with me at all times.”

  “I’ve never been a big believer in magic,” Ree murmured.

  “Yes, I remember that about you,” Amelia said, her tone unexpectedly soft.

  “Thank you anyway.” Ree pocketed the stone with what she hoped was the proper amount of reverence.

  Amelia walked them to the door and stood on the front porch to see them off. As they exited the garden gate, Hayden said under his breath, “Wow.”

  Ree glanced at him. “Did you like her?”

  “Like? I don’t know if I’d say that. But you’re right. She is different. And probably one of the most fascinating people I’ve met in years.”

  “Should I be jealous?” Ree tried to mimic his earlier tone.

  They were at his car now and Hayden did something very surprising, something Ree would never have predicted. He bent and kissed her. Not a mere peck, but a real kiss, one that deepened almost instantly. The birds stopped chirping and the breeze died away. Everything became very still. At least it seemed so to Ree. Nothing existed for her but Hayden…the scent of him, the feel of him. The slight hitch in his breath… She put her hands on his chest as she tilted her head and parted her lips. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her palm and her own breath quickened as she started to remember things about that night in Oak Grove. How she had gone to him without hesitation. How she had undressed for him without inhibition.

  Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he pulled away and gazed down at her. “Does that answer your question?”

  “Yes,” she said in a shaken voice. And very eloquently.

  As it turned out, Hayden wasn’t quite so footloose and fancy free after all. A call from someone at his firm sent him scurrying back to the office, leaving Ree to tackle the Emerson library alone. The archives room was located in the basement, a dim, musty area of overflowing shelves and drafty alcoves. One of the librarians upstairs had given Ree a vague suggestion as to where to find the Oak Grove records, but everything was so disorganized, the search was needle-in-the-haystack tedious.

  Ree was muttering to herself in frustration when a man popped out from behind one of the shelves and gave her a stern shush.

  “Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down.”

  “It’s not for my sake, but for the other students,” he said almost apologetically.

  She nodded and glanced around. The place was deserted except for the two of them and she felt a little tingle of alarm as he approached her. He looked harmless enough, though, in his corduroy jacket and khaki.

  “Perhaps I can be of assistance. This place can be a bit overwhelming if you’re not familiar with the system.”

  “You can say that again. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way things are stored.”

  “I’m Professor Meakin, by the way.”

  Ree noticed that he didn’t offer his hand. “The historian?”

  “Why, yes. I’m flattered that you recognized my name. Hardly anyone ever does.”

  “Oh. Well, I read one of your books a few years back.”

  This seemed to please him a great deal. “I take it you have an interest in local history. Are your people from Charleston?”

  “No. I came here to attend Emerson.”

  “Ah.” A curious smile tugged at his lips. “You have a bit of a Lowcountry drawl so I don’t think you’re too far from home.”

  “I’m from Trinity. It’s just north of here.”

  “A lovely little town. I used to visit a friend there on occasion. Your family still lives there, I take it?”

  “Yes.”

  He was starting to creep her out a little, but Ree tried not to telegraph her distaste because she suspected the poor guy’s worst crime was social ineptness.

  His gaze darted to the book in her hand. “May I?” He glanced at the
spine.

  “I’m doing some research on a local family,” she explained. “I wonder if you could point me to the birth and death records, circa 1920.”

  “What’s the name?”

  “Tisdale.”

  He thought for a moment. “Would that be the John Braxton Tisdales?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t even know who that is…was.”

  He gave her a reproachful look. “John Braxton Tisdale was one of General Lee’s most trusted civilian advisors during the Civil War. His son, James rode with Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders and was later elected to the U.S. Senate. The family still lives in the East Bay house from which John Braxton and young James watched the firing upon Fort Sumter.”

  Would that be the same house in which Jared Tisdale had been found murdered that morning? Ree wondered. “Did James have any children?”

  “Two sons, John and Braxton, both of whom followed their father into politics. There was also a daughter. She belonged to his second wife, but James adopted her.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Ilsa, I believe. She was younger than the boys and quite a hedonist for the time.”

  “Really? What did she do?”

  He seemed more than happy to oblige her curiosity. “The usual. Scandalous parties, unsavory liaisons… She ran off with a French diplomat, an older gentleman, when she was just seventeen. He whisked her away to some remote chalet in the Alps and she was never heard from again. It created quite a stir in Charleston society.”

  “Her family didn’t try to find her?”

  “I’m sure there was some form of communication, but with the family’s political aspirations, I imagine her estrangement was a blessing.”

  “So the Tisdales just washed their hands of her?”

  “It was not an uncommon attitude in those days. Young women of ill repute were often shipped off to boarding school or to live with relatives in some remote outpost.”

  “Do you know if there was any kind of scandal involving Oak Grove Cemetery?”

  The question seemed to catch him off guard. His eyes widened and he shot a glance over his shoulder.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No…no. It’s just…one doesn’t hear much about Oak Grove these days.”