The Whispering Dead (Gravekeeper #1) - Darcy Coates Page 0,73
clock, she didn’t know how much time passed. It felt like hours, though realistically, she guessed it probably wasn’t more than twenty minutes. Her teeth were chattering, and chills raked through her by the time she decided that, Dane or no Dane, she couldn’t sit there any longer. She pulled the flashlight out of her pocket and turned it on.
The stairs led down into a small brick room. It seemed to have been designed as an emergency hiding space—old Mortimer Crispin had probably commissioned it as a safe haven should he need it. Shelves lined two of the walls. The stairs took up a third, and a badly decayed bed was propped against the fourth. In the middle of the room was a table with a basket on it.
Keira knew she needed to return to town and seek out her friends, but something about the basket drew her curiosity. It was old, but not as old as the rest of the furniture, which seemed to have been installed at the room’s creation.
As she scanned the shelves, she saw an assortment of items that looked no more than a few decades old. A record player with a track waiting to be put on. Empty wine bottles. A packet of cigarettes. A stack of letters.
She was freezing, tired, and not looking forward to a long hike back to civilization, but Keira knew this would be her only opportunity to visit the secret room. She lowered herself off the steps and groaned as blood flowed back into her cramped leg.
She hopped to the papers and unfolded a few. As she did, a photo fell from between two sheets and fluttered to the floor. She bent, picked it up, and shone her light on it.
It revealed two familiar faces: Emma and Frank, embracing in a photo booth. They were laughing. Keira gently put it to one side and opened the letters. A quick scan showed they were love notes, all signed by Frank.
She skimmed them, hoping for a clue that would help her understand Emma, but there wasn’t much except for expressions of adoration, plans to meet late at night, and a throwaway suggestion for elopement. She put them back on the shelf and turned toward the basket.
The large wicker carrier held a dirty cloth. Keira picked up a corner to see if there was anything inside. A jumble of small white bones clattered together, and Keira drew in a sharp breath as she recoiled. Her heart lurched unpleasantly. She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and waited for the unsteadiness to fade.
I understand now. Oh, Emma, you poor creature—no wonder you can’t move on.
There was no reason to linger in the young lovers’ secret meeting room. Keira took the basket, climbed the stairs, pushed open the trapdoor, and returned to the mill’s main room. She placed the wicker carrier onto one of the tables, then opened her second sight.
The spirits seemed to glow faintly in her flashlight. The man with the unbuttoned shirt stood closest and gave her a nod in greeting. Two of the female workers lingered near one of the offices, and Keira remembered how an object had clattered to the floor to draw Dane’s attention away from the trapdoor.
Poltergeists, Keira’s subconscious whispered.
“Thank you,” she said, and she bowed to the spirits. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”
The man’s smile widened a little. He extended his hand, palm outward, in gentle reassurance.
Keira dropped her second sight. She wished she could stay with the mill’s spirits longer, but the cold was starting to become a serious problem. She reached into her pocket. Zoe’s phone was wet from the rain, but miraculously, it powered on. The battery was near dead, so Keira went straight to the preprogrammed numbers and selected Constable Sanderson’s.
Mason had said the policeman would answer his mobile at any hour, even during the middle of the night, and Keira sighed with relief when that proved true. The voice sounded sleepy, disoriented, and more than a little irritated. “Wha? Wha tha hell is it?”
She doubted the constable would be able to recognize her voice if he ever met her again, but she lowered it an octave just in case. “I have important information. Please listen carefully.”
“Who the hell is this?” She could hear sheets rustling. He sounded a little more alert, at least.
Keira turned to look at the basket and spoke slowly and clearly. “You need to come to the old Crispin mill. I’ve found an infant’s remains.”