Graveminder

“No,” Rebekkah said. “I don’t think anyone’s asking.”

Elaine sighed. “Well, sooner or later, one of you will be bright enough to ask my opinion.”

For a moment, Rebekkah wasn’t sure whether to laugh or tell Elaine to back off. Laughter won. “I’m sure if we ever reach that point, we’ll be able to find you.”

“Good.” Elaine smiled as she pointed at the barren desk. “This is your workspace. I don’t suppose you’d like it outfitted for this decade?”

Rebekkah bit her cheek to keep herself from laughing again. “Electronic files would probably be easier to search.”

“They’re all backed up on the server. I took a course last summer, you know.” Elaine’s excitement became obvious. Her eyes glimmered, and her smile widened. “I’ll get you set up this week. In the meantime, if you need help with the filing system, I’ll be in my office.”

“I’m sure I’ll have no trouble. Something tells me your system is foolproof.” Rebekkah opened the envelope in her hands and sat down at her new desk.

BYRON STOOD SILENTLY IN THE PREPARATION ROOM. HE HATED TO ADMIT that he was disconcerted by Rebekkah’s reaction to the murder scene. She was still his Rebekkah, but seeing her become something other had left him unnerved.

He went about his job, grateful for the habitual steps. The body of the man on the table was relatively fit. His appearance spoke of years of physical labor and of hard living: he was thin with well-defined musculature and had a knife scar on his left biceps and a puckered scar where a bullet had entered his right thigh. Daisha’s attack on the man had obviously been more brutal than her attack on Maylene. One forearm was bitten to the bone, and the throat and neck were bared to the collarbone on both sides. The right biceps was also ravaged.

She looked so harmless.

The murderer, the dead murderer, was too small to seem capable of such savagery. This body would not be made available for an open-casket viewing.

She’s a monster, not a girl. His father had reminded him of that, reminded him that the dead weren’t to be treated mercifully, and as Byron looked at the proof of her strength and violence, he understood why.

Are they this much stronger in the land of the dead, too? He felt a wave of exhaustion at the thought. He wasn’t ready for this. Will I ever be? Resentment that he didn’t want to feel for his father welled up in him. William had been a good man and a good father, but his choosing to keep such life-altering secrets threatened to negate everything else.

Byron looked up as Elaine walked into the room.

“Allan is here,” she said. “He’ll be down in a moment. You go on upstairs. The body ... It’s Bonnie Jean.”

“Amity’s sister?”

Elaine nodded. “Allan will handle things here.”

Byron turned his back and stripped off his disposable coveralls. “I ought to—”

“No. You ought to go to Maylene’s old office and see Rebekkah,” Elaine said firmly. “Amity will be with family. I’ll take care of the funeral arrangements.”

Byron glanced at Elaine as he walked over to the biohazard bin and shoved the barely used protective garment into it. “Right, and I ought to do this because ... ?”

“Because ... because the Barrow woman’s office is where the decedent files are kept. It’ll makes things easier if ...” Elaine’s words trailed off.

“What things?” he asked.

Elaine frowned. Her usual peremptory and bossy manner was absent. Instead, she rubbed her temples before saying, “Work things. The Barrows ... do things. Help.”

“Right. Those things.” Byron felt guilty as he saw Elaine rub her head. “I’m sorry.”

She waved him off. “I don’t expect you to be at her side as she gets settled in the office, but I think she needs assistance. William assisted Maylene, and”—Elaine winced—“Rebekkah requires you. Upstairs. Allan can do this, and you can’t help Amity, but Rebekkah needs ... I’m sorry. I think the light down here is aggravating my eyes again.”

She turned away, and Byron swallowed back the guilt he was starting to feel. He hadn’t known that he’d said anything that would hurt her . “Elaine?” he called after her. “My father thought a good day-spa visit helped with your headaches, didn’t he?”

She paused. “A simple headache doesn’t need pamper—”

“I’d be lost here without you. I know that, and you know that.” He came to stand beside her. “You’re right. Allan will handle the preparation down here, and I’ll see what Rebekkah needs. You will go relax so you don’t get ill and leave me floundering here.”

Allan stepped into the preparation room as Byron took Elaine upstairs. As they walked past a spare office, Byron heard Rebekkah call for Elaine. At the doorway, he and Elaine both paused.

Rebekkah looked up from a stack of files on the desk. “Do you know of anyone born in town with the first name Daisha?”

Elaine motioned toward the bottom of the file cabinet. “Birth records are listed in there, but William had left a note on that same name. I’d only begun searching when you arrived today. Things were backed up, but ... hold on.”

She walked away, returning a minute later with a stack of papers. “I don’t have all of the files sorted, but I do have two Daishas so far. One is five years old—mother, Chelsea; father, Robert.”

“And the other?” Byron prompted.

“Seventeen—mother, Gail; father wasn’t a Claysville native. She’s been gone for a while. According to the note in her school file, her mother reported that she went to live with her father. I tried to call the mother yesterday several times, but there’s been no answer.” Elaine shook her head. “The address ... it’s ...” She flipped the page.

“Sunny Glades Trailer Park,” Rebekkah filled in. “That’s her.”

Chapter 43

DAISHA RETURNED TO HER FORMER HOME. THE BODIES WERE GONE. She’d considered keeping them there, but the more she’d eaten, the more she’d remembered—and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to remember much more. The people she’d met in town had helped her remember, so by the time she’d come to the trailer, she’d remembered so much more than she wished she had.

Leaves in her mouth.

Hands on her throat.

She knew that she had been killed.

She knew that when she woke up, she was stopped from coming home.

To find the shining woman. The Graveminder.

To hear the words, to find nourishment.

Someone had made it impossible for her to come back even though she’d felt the thread that grew from the center of her being, pulling her back to here, to home, to her . When she’d awakened, she had known where she was supposed to go.

Breath, drink, and food.

If she’d kept Gail and Paul here, they would’ve woken up in time: that’s why she’d called the tip line to have their bodies removed. I don’t want them to wake up. The Graveminder would stop that from happening. Daisha understood that now. She understood most everything: the longer she’d been re-alive, the more she re-knew. The better she was fed, the more she remembered.

She remembered the Cold Man. He was there, too.

And Daisha remembered her , the woman.

“Then let them go,” the woman had said. “They’ll fix everything, and when they’re done, we’ll kill them