The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,29
how early he’ll come.”
“A visitor?” Zoe’s miserable expression morphed into keen interest. “And it’s a he? Who? Is it your handler? If you squint your eyes, does he start to look like a reptile?”
“Nothing like that. He’s just one of Adage’s acquaintances.”
“Ahh.” Zoe nodded, as though this answered everything. A mischievous smile pulled at her bright-red lips. “Good old Adage. Must be playing matchmaker again. Is the guy cute at least?”
Keira hated the direction the conversation was turning, but Zoe had leaned one arm against the opposite aisle, blocking Keira’s access to the door. “Don’t make such a big deal out of it. He’s just seeing if he can help with the lost memories. Mason’s studying to be a doctor.”
Zoe’s smile vanished. “Mason Corr? You’re kidding.” She frowned but didn’t move out of Keira’s way. For the first time, Keira thought she’d genuinely caught Zoe off-guard.
“Is there something wrong?”
“Eh.” Zoe rolled her shoulders, squinting toward the ceiling. “I guess it makes sense that Adage would call him. Adage hates the doctor—like, really, really hates him—and he’s always had a soft spot for Mason. But, Keira, do me a favor, okay?”
“Yeah?”
“You might want to watch your back around him.”
Keira glanced toward the window. The street was starting to fill with early morning traffic. Some of the couples talked and laughed as they went to open their stores, but the pleasant atmosphere didn’t reach inside the general store. “Why? He seemed nice yesterday.”
“Yeah, he always does. He’s the town’s darling; he could probably charm the saltiest old maid if he tried.”
“But…?”
Zoe glanced about the store, as though there might be curious ears listening in. “Do you know much about him?”
“Almost nothing.”
“Well, he spent the last four years working toward becoming a doctor. First an undergraduate degree, then med school. Consistently at the top of his class. He was Blighty’s brightest shooting star, destined to make a name for himself in a fancy city somewhere. Then, near the end of the year, he dropped out.”
Keira shifted the shopping bags uneasily. “Why?”
“That’s the million-dollar question.” Zoe raised her hands in a shrug, then dropped them again. “People asked, but he either changes the subject or gives vague excuses like ‘taking a break’ and ‘considering my options.’ I heard he even got letters from his professors asking him to come back, to complete his degree—but he’s been home for eight weeks now, with no signs of leaving.”
“Huh.” Keira chewed that over. “That is weird. Maybe he got burned-out?”
“And couldn’t have survived a couple more months after four years?” Zoe made a noise that was somewhere between derision and annoyance. “Look, I’m not telling you to shun him or anything, but…just be cautious. He’s hiding something. And in my calculated opinion, there’s an extremely high chance that he’s a serial killer who had to flee the campus in fear of being caught.”
That was a segue and a half. Keira spluttered a laugh, hoisted her bags, and ducked around Zoe to reach the door. “I don’t know about that. But thanks for looking out for me.”
Zoe huffed a sigh, then waved Keira out of the door. “Whatever. My lunch break is at one. Meet me at the café. And remember: I will be extremely displeased if you get yourself murdered by any would-be doctor before then.”
“Same to you,” Keira called over her shoulder as she turned toward the cemetery.
Chapter Eleven
Blighty was waking up. Shop doors were opening and bleary-eyed townspeople were shuffling about their early-morning errands, though the roads were still near empty. Keira noted there were very few cars. She supposed most people lived close enough to the town center to walk there.
The Two Bees florist, Polly Kennard, was setting out buckets of flowers at the front of her store. Keira lowered her head and set her gaze on the ground, intending to pass the shop quickly, but she had to pull up short as a bunch of daisies was thrust across her path.
“This is the third time I’ve seen you,” Polly said, leaning into Keira’s field of vision. The sunlight sparkled off the florist’s glasses and bleached-white teeth and made her permed hair look like cotton candy plopped on top of her head. “Are you staying in town, dear?”
“Just passing through!” The excuse was carrying less and less weight the longer Keira stayed in Blighty, but she hadn’t prepared any alternatives.
“Visiting family, perhaps? How lovely.” Polly’s wide smile seemed both genuine and grandmotherly, and Keira tried her hardest not to visualize the woman fleeing from