The Abandoned - By Amanda Stevens Page 0,6

was alone in the room with a dead woman and the dead couldn’t hurt her. Nor could they come back. There was no such thing as ghosts. No such thing as magic of any kind. A stone angel couldn’t come to life and neither could a corpse.

An icy draft blew down her neck and unable to resist, Ree half turned. From her periphery, she caught a slight movement in the farthest corner of the room. Heart pounding, she watched it for the longest moment before she realized that what she’d spotted was nothing more than the shadow of a tree branch moving outside the window.

Faint with relief, she put a hand on the bed to steady herself. What a strange, strange night.

Her nerves were shot. That was the only logical explanation. The stress of finishing her master’s thesis coupled with her work at the hospital and her mounting student loans had taken a toll. Now Miss Violet’s death. The blackmail scheme. Dr. Farrante’s secret. A woman named Ilsa Tisdale who apparently had the power to destroy lives even from her grave. It all sounded so melodramatic and sensational, and Ree told herself she’d be laughing at her overreaction come morning.

But she wasn’t laughing now. As she replaced the book on the nightstand, something cold brushed against her hand. She gasped and jerked back.

“Go home, Ree.” She spoke the command aloud, hoping the sound of her voice would chase away that unnamed fear.

Forget about the blackmail. Forget about Miss Violet. None of this is your concern. Just…go home.

She might have done exactly that if not for the swoosh of the outer door. Reacting purely on instinct, Ree tiptoed to the bathroom and slipped inside just as Dr. Farrante stepped into the bedroom. And for the second time that night, she found herself eavesdropping on the formidable psychiatrist.

He went immediately to Miss Violet’s bedside and stood gazing down at her. The light was lowered in her room, but Ree could see his face clearly. She still thought him the most handsome, charismatic man she’d ever met, but now there was something aberrant about his too-perfect features. Something cold-blooded about the way he clasped his hands behind his back and observed the remains so passively.

And suddenly one of the blackmailer’s taunts came rushing back to her. The Farrantes have always taken such good care of my aunt.

As she watched the psychiatrist with the body, she became more and more convinced that some atrocity had been committed and a cover-up perpetuated for generations. Something terrible had happened to Ilsa Tisdale. Ree was certain of it.

And she wondered if, after all this time, a clue might still be buried in Oak Grove Cemetery.

It was misting when Ree left the hospital a little while later. She hurried across the damp parking lot to her car, turning only once to glance back at the stately white columns and gleaming façade. She’d always thought the historic building a fitting symbol of all that three generations of Farrantes had accomplished in the field of developmental psychology. Now she saw only darkness and secrets.

Shivering in the wet gloom, she climbed into her car and started the engine. Once she left the parking lot, the security lights faded and a canopy of live oaks shrouded the sky. It was a very dark night.

At the entrance, she flashed her badge and waited for the gates to slide open. Then waving to the guard, she drove through and eased into the flow of traffic on the busy thoroughfare. Exiting the secluded grounds was a little like crossing over into another dimension. The hospital was located inside the city, but it seemed so isolated behind those walls, a world unto itself, and never more so than tonight.

A few blocks east, Ree entered the Emerson University campus, a lovely and only slightly less insular world than the one she’d just left behind. Despite the mist, she rolled down the window and let the lush scent of a Charleston evening flow through her car. There was nothing more southern—or more intoxicating—than the mingled fragrances of jasmine, magnolia and sea. The heady perfume tugged at her senses like a memory. Like the eerie melody that drifted through the stereo speakers.

What was that song? It seemed so familiar and yet so strange. So…haunting.

Ree hummed along even though she was certain she’d never heard the tune before. The dreamy notes were almost hypnotic and with no clear destination, she found herself at the back of the campus where the