“Because of her affair with Robert Fremont?”
She turned in surprise. “You know about that?”
“John told me.”
She shrugged. “By then, I don’t think he even cared. He would have been well rid of her. What he did care about was his daughter. He lived in fear that Mariama would run off to Africa with her again and disappear for good. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“Why do you think he didn’t leave her?” Isabel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “He was afraid she would take her revenge out on Shani.”
I stared incredulously. “Her own daughter?”
“No one was sacred to Mariama.”
But her own child. I could hardly comprehend it.
I thought about that night at Devlin’s house when Shani had appeared at my side. The moment Mariama put out her arms, the little ghost had vanished, as if she was afraid of her mother’s spirit.
“John cares about you,” Isabel said. “I think he may be falling in love with you. If Mariama was still around, I’d be worried for your safety. So I’m glad she’s gone. I’m glad she can’t hurt you or anyone else from the grave.”
If only that were true. But I had a terrible feeling that Mariama was more dangerous to me dead than she ever would have been alive.
The moment I walked into my house, I felt the cold. The bone-frost of an otherworldly visitor.
I walked slowly down the hall, calling to Angus. He came at once, and when I reached down to give him a pat, I noticed that his fur was icy and bristled.
I’d left the kitchen light on, and it spilled into my office where the chill seemed to be concentrated. I moved to the door, hovering there for the longest time before I gathered the courage to enter.
Shani sat cross-legged on the floor inside my office—
As I stepped into the room, she looked up, dark eyes shining in that strange light.
“Will you help me?”
She spoke aloud this time. I was certain of it. Or maybe I could no longer distinguish between reality and the world that existed only in my head.
My teeth chattered from the cold. I pulled my jacket tightly around me as I stared down at her. “Yes, I’ll help you.”
She held out her hand, and I saw the glitter of a tiny garnet ring on her finger. It was the same ring she’d once left in my backyard. I’d taken it to her grave because Papa had told me I should get rid of it. It was the only way to get rid of
Obviously, Papa had been wrong.
I knelt in front of her. “What should I do?”
Already, she was starting to fade. “Come find me,” she said, her words echoing as though spoken from the bottom of a very deep well. “Come find me, Amelia.”
I put out a hand to her. She slipped off the ring and placed it gently in my palm. And then she vanished.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I headed south the next day into Beaufort County, the garnet ring glittering on the tip of my pinkie. Even after a few hours of sleep and a morning spent clearing brush in Oak Grove Cemetery, I was still reeling from the knowledge that Shani had found a way into my home. The heart on my bathroom mirror had been her first attempt, I supposed. And now if she could get in, others could, too.
Since childhood, hallowed ground had been my one foolproof protection. My only escape. That was gone now. Shani’s manifestation had punched a hole in my illusion of a safe haven, and now, without Papa’s rules, without a sanctuary, I had nothing standing between me and the ghosts.
My only hope was to help her move on before she led more spirits to me. And my only clue of how to find her was the garnet ring. She had brought it from her grave and placed it in my hand, so the logical place to start my search was in Chedathy Cemetery.
But I had other business to attend to in Beaufort County before I drove out to the graveyard. Shani wasn’t the only ghost to whom I’d promised my assistance. Robert Fremont was still out there somewhere. He was keeping his distance for whatever reason, but I had no doubt he would materialize one morning on the Battery or next to my car at Oak Grove Cemetery expecting answers.
I wondered if he even knew about Tom Gerrity’s murder. Was that the reason he’d sent me to the private detective’s office? He’d felt very strongly that I should go there. Maybe he’d had a vision or a premonition. Like his memory, his prophecies seemed to come and go, but then he was dead, after all. I supposed I should cut him some slack.
My first stop was the Beaufort County Coroner’s office. I hadn’t yet figured out how to finesse my way into Garland Finch’s good graces, but I had the card from Regina Sparks in my pocket. I was fully prepared to pull it out if need be, along with a spiel about South Carolina’s open records law. But as it turned out, I needed to do nothing more than introduce myself.
“Amelia Gray,” the woman behind the front desk mused as she scratched her head with a pencil. Her beehive was a thing of beauty. I might have thought it a cutting-edge fashion statement if I didn’t have the feeling she’d worn that same style since the sixties. “I have a note about you around here somewhere.” She scavenged through the papers on her messy desk to produce a manila envelope with a pink Post-it note attached. “Ah, here we are. You’re picking up some records for Regina Sparks. Garland said to give you whatever you needed.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I perked up. This was going to be so much easier than I’d anticipated.
The woman gave me a reproachful look over her glasses. “You didn’t need to make a special trip down here, you know. I could have emailed the reports to the Charleston County Coroner’s office.”
“I had business in the area, anyway.”
“Well, here you go, then.” She handed me the envelope.
I took it reluctantly. “What’s this?”
She lifted an overplucked brow. “The reports? That is what you’re here for, isn’t it? Check and make sure everything is in there before you leave. Be a shame if something is missing after you came all this way.”
“But how did you know what I needed?”
“Garland told me.” She eyed me curiously. “Is something wrong?”
“No, I just…no.”
I opened the flap and glanced through the pages, stopping cold when I saw the names. Now I understood. Regina had assumed the friend I’d referred to was Devlin. The autopsy reports she’d requested were for Shani and Mariama.
“There seems to be one missing,” I said. “Didn’t Regina also request the report of a man named Robert Fremont?” I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t set off an alarm for her.
“Garland didn’t mention him, but I guess it could have slipped his mind. He’s no spring chicken, although he’s not about to admit it.” She tapped a few keys on her computer. “Robert Fremont, you say? Why do I know that name?”
“He was a Charleston cop who was killed down here a couple of years ago.”
“I don’t remember the particulars, but that name sure rings a bell. Has something new turned up on his case?”
“I don’t know. Regina didn’t discuss it with me. I’m just supposed to collect the postmortems.”
She studied the computer screen. “You may as well take a seat. We’re slow as molasses today. Now, is that F-r-e-e-m-o-n-t?”
“One
