and slowly walked away, disappearing into the lush foliage of White Point Gardens.
I headed for home, stopping for a bagel and coffee on the way. With each step that brought me closer to my sanctuary, I felt a growing trepidation. A creeping dread that left me wondering…
How had Devlin’s ghost child managed to penetrate my defenses? And what would I do if she came back?
When I got home, I went straight to the garden. The moonflowers had withered in the heat as the rising sun slowly awakened the morning glories.
I walked along narrow beds of purple phlox to the spot where I’d seen the little girl’s ghost. I don’t know what I expected to find. Nothing as earthly or as human as footprints. But something had been left behind.
A tiny garnet ring lay embedded in the soft earth.
I might not have seen it at all had I not been searching so closely for evidence of a ghostly visit.
The ring looked as if it had been buried there for a very long time. Perhaps like the body in Oak Grove, it had been uncovered by the recent rainstorms. I wanted to believe it had been lost by some former occupant of the house, but I couldn’t help remembering the sparkle on the little ghost’s finger as she pointed to the window where I had stood watching her.
I knelt in the grass, hands on thighs and stared for a long time at that ring.
Had it been left there as a message? A warning?
Could a ghost do that?
I’d felt the spidery crawl of their fingers in my hair, the whisper of their cold breath down my collar, but I’d never found any physical evidence of their presence. And yet there lay a ring in the very spot where one of Devlin’s ghosts had vanished back into the mist.
It didn’t seem proper to leave it half buried in the dirt, but neither did I want the thing in my house or on my person. Already I had too much of a connection to this entity. The last thing I needed was to issue an unwitting invitation.
After a bit, I got up and went inside to retrieve an antique silver trinket box from my dresser, along with a basket of pebbles and seashells I’d collected from the old part of Rosehill Cemetery, my childhood playground. The artifacts had come from hallowed ground, as had the polished stone I wore on a silver chain around my neck. Whether they held any protective properties of their own, I had no idea. I liked to think that they did.
I went back out to the garden and, using the tip of a spade to carefully tease the ring from the moist ground, I placed it inside the silver box, dug a hole and buried it. Then I fashioned a heart on top of the site with the pebbles.
Working quickly and in deep concentration, I tuned out the sounds from the street along with the soft spit of my next-door neighbor’s lawn sprinkler. I only looked up when I heard footsteps on the paving stones, and by then it was too late. John Devlin was already upon me.
I had a feeling he’d been watching me for some time through the wrought-iron gate. Some part of me had sensed him there, I think, but I chose to ignore the warning.
Now as his shadow fell over me, I stared up at him, my pulse reacting erratically.
“What died?” he asked.
SIX
“N othing died.” I spoke in a casual tone that I knew disguised the startled thud of my heart. As did my practiced expression. I never gave any of my feelings away. I couldn’t afford to when a nervous tic or the dart of my gaze might betray my awareness to a ghost.
And speaking of ghosts, Devlin was alone. Not surprising with the sun fully over the horizon. His unearthly companons would have drifted back through the veil, waiting for twilight, waiting for an in-between time at an in-between place to reemerge.
“I thought I’d use my unexpected time off to do a little gardening,” I told him. “Normally, I would have been at the cemetery by now trying to beat the heat.”
“Murder tends to throw a monkey wrench in the best-laid plans,” he said, without a trace of irony or a smile. He nodded
I headed for home, stopping for a bagel and coffee on the way. With each step that brought me closer to my sanctuary, I felt a growing trepidation. A creeping dread that left me wondering…
How had Devlin’s ghost child managed to penetrate my defenses? And what would I do if she came back?
When I got home, I went straight to the garden. The moonflowers had withered in the heat as the rising sun slowly awakened the morning glories.
I walked along narrow beds of purple phlox to the spot where I’d seen the little girl’s ghost. I don’t know what I expected to find. Nothing as earthly or as human as footprints. But something had been left behind.
A tiny garnet ring lay embedded in the soft earth.
I might not have seen it at all had I not been searching so closely for evidence of a ghostly visit.
The ring looked as if it had been buried there for a very long time. Perhaps like the body in Oak Grove, it had been uncovered by the recent rainstorms. I wanted to believe it had been lost by some former occupant of the house, but I couldn’t help remembering the sparkle on the little ghost’s finger as she pointed to the window where I had stood watching her.
I knelt in the grass, hands on thighs and stared for a long time at that ring.
Had it been left there as a message? A warning?
Could a ghost do that?
I’d felt the spidery crawl of their fingers in my hair, the whisper of their cold breath down my collar, but I’d never found any physical evidence of their presence. And yet there lay a ring in the very spot where one of Devlin’s ghosts had vanished back into the mist.
It didn’t seem proper to leave it half buried in the dirt, but neither did I want the thing in my house or on my person. Already I had too much of a connection to this entity. The last thing I needed was to issue an unwitting invitation.
After a bit, I got up and went inside to retrieve an antique silver trinket box from my dresser, along with a basket of pebbles and seashells I’d collected from the old part of Rosehill Cemetery, my childhood playground. The artifacts had come from hallowed ground, as had the polished stone I wore on a silver chain around my neck. Whether they held any protective properties of their own, I had no idea. I liked to think that they did.
I went back out to the garden and, using the tip of a spade to carefully tease the ring from the moist ground, I placed it inside the silver box, dug a hole and buried it. Then I fashioned a heart on top of the site with the pebbles.
Working quickly and in deep concentration, I tuned out the sounds from the street along with the soft spit of my next-door neighbor’s lawn sprinkler. I only looked up when I heard footsteps on the paving stones, and by then it was too late. John Devlin was already upon me.
I had a feeling he’d been watching me for some time through the wrought-iron gate. Some part of me had sensed him there, I think, but I chose to ignore the warning.
Now as his shadow fell over me, I stared up at him, my pulse reacting erratically.
“What died?” he asked.
SIX
“N othing died.” I spoke in a casual tone that I knew disguised the startled thud of my heart. As did my practiced expression. I never gave any of my feelings away. I couldn’t afford to when a nervous tic or the dart of my gaze might betray my awareness to a ghost.
And speaking of ghosts, Devlin was alone. Not surprising with the sun fully over the horizon. His unearthly companons would have drifted back through the veil, waiting for twilight, waiting for an in-between time at an in-between place to reemerge.
“I thought I’d use my unexpected time off to do a little gardening,” I told him. “Normally, I would have been at the cemetery by now trying to beat the heat.”
“Murder tends to throw a monkey wrench in the best-laid plans,” he said, without a trace of irony or a smile. He nodded
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