some research on the Order of the Coffin and the Claw. There was talk about a connection to Oak Grove long before Afton Delacourt’s murder.”
“You think someone in that organization destroyed the records?”
“A collective someone, perhaps. I don’t know. This is all purely speculation on my part, but…I did find something I thought you might be interested in.”
“Yes?”
“You wanted to know if you might have run across some of their symbols on old headstones. This is the only one I’ve ever been able to link to the Order.” He produced a paper from his pocket and smoothed out the wrinkles as he placed it on the floor in front of me.
The emblem was a snake coiled around a talon.
I stared down at the drawing for the longest time, afraid to glance up because I knew my expression would give me away.
The symbol was a replica of the one on Dr. Shaw’s ring. Only now I knew where I’d seen it before.
On the medallion Devlin wore around his neck.
Thirty-One
The revelation left me shaken. Devlin was a member of the Order of the Coffin and the Claw, the secret society that had been implicated in Afton Delacourt’s murder.
Not that I believed for a moment he’d been personally involved.
But a memory was stirred of that overheard conversation between Devlin and Camille Ashby. She’d been adamant that the discovery of Hannah Fischer’s body in Oak Grove not be linked to Emerson or to the first murder. Had she expected Devlin to cover up whatever connection to the university he might find because he was a Claw?
Only the crème de la crème of Emerson students were extended membership, those from privileged backgrounds like Devlin. While he was at Emerson, the Order would have had every reason to believe he would one day become a mover and shaker in his family’s powerful law firm. Undoubtedly he’d been a legacy pledge with a long Devlin tradition in the society behind him. No wonder he said they couldn’t touch him. He was one of them.
I didn’t have a chance to confront him when I arrived at Oak Grove. There were too many people around. Above and belowground, the cemetery teemed with cops. Devlin himself spent most of the morning in the tunnels. I walked the cemetery alone, searching for signs of fresh digging, disturbed graves, clues hidden within imagery and epitaphs. Like Dr. Shaw, I had no idea what I was looking for, but I had a feeling I would know it if I saw it. At least I hoped so.
By noon, I was a hot mess. The sun was brutal overhead and I still felt a bit weak from my encounter with Devlin the night before. I had on my usual cemetery attire of boots, tank and cargoes. The large pockets in the pants provided convenient storage for my tools, but they were hardly the most flattering fit. My hair was plastered to my head, and I wore no makeup or sunscreen—a foolish lapse because already I could feel the sting of sunburn on my cheeks.
Devlin, on the other hand, looked fresh and well put together—suspiciously revitalized—as he emerged from the web-laden tunnels. As he headed toward me, Ethan Shaw approached from a different angle, and their paths converged directly in front of me. Unlike Devlin, Ethan looked a little worse for wear after his foray belowground. He walked up brushing dust and cobwebs from his sleeves.
The two men couldn’t have looked more different: Devlin with his black hair, piercing eyes and brooding demeanor and Ethan, a sun-streaked brunette with an easy smile and gold-flecked hazel eyes.
Night and day, I thought, and for some reason the analogy made me uneasy.
“I’m getting ready to head back to the lab,” Ethan said. “But if you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you about the remains we exhumed from the grave yesterday.”
The conversation was a little awkward for me. I didn’t know whether I should back away and let them have privacy or stay and hear what Ethan had to say.
Neither of them seemed too concerned about my listening in so I decided to stay put.
“She’s a female Caucasian, early twenties,” Ethan was saying. “Somewhere around five feet nine inches tall and a hundred and twenty pounds. Give or take.”
“PMI?” Devlin asked.
“Five to ten years. I’m saying closer to ten.”
Devlin frowned. “She was in the ground for a long time.”
“Normally, that would make identification a lot more difficult, but we’ve got plenty of dental work to go on and extensive premortem injuries.”
“How premortem?”
“Months. Cracked ribs and clavicle, fractured vertebrae, pelvis and right femur. My guess is she was in a severe accident, probably a car crash. She was on the mend, but I would imagine she suffered from chronic pain and was facing months, if not years, of physical therapy.”
“That narrows the field considerably,” Devlin said.
“We’ve already put her in the system. Should be just a matter of time.”
Devlin’s phone rang and I watched him walk off as I made the calculations in my head. Afton Delacourt had been murdered fifteen years ago. The remains dug up yesterday had been in the ground from five to ten years. Hannah Fischer had been dead only a matter of days. I wondered if another pattern was emerging or if we’d yet to find all the bodies.
“Are you all right?” Ethan asked and I shook myself out of my reverie.
“I’m just tired.”
He gave me a careful appraisal. “You look a little flushed. Are you sure you’re not overdoing it out here?”
“No. I’m fine. Why?”
“I heard you and Devlin were the ones who discovered the hidden room and tunnels. And the skeleton,” he added grimly. “That couldn’t have been easy on the nerves.”
“It was a little traumatic,” I admitted.
“Did you get any sleep at all last night?”
I thought about Devlin, slumbering so peacefully in my office while I lay fully clothed in bed, staring at the ceiling and fretting. “Not much.”
“And here you are back out here today. I see at least half a dozen cops standing around who could be walking this cemetery.”
“I know the terrain and I know what I’m looking for, sort of.”
He shrugged. “Okay. But if you need a break, take it. John pushes himself hard, but that doesn’t mean you have to.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Devlin had disappeared down one of the walkways and was out of earshot. “You’ve known him a long time?”
“Yes. He can seem a little taciturn at times, but he wasn’t always like that. The accident changed him. I don’t think he’ll ever get over it.”
“I can see why. He lost his whole family.”
Ethan sighed. “It’s not just the grief. He’s consumed by guilt.”
I looked around anxiously. “I’m not sure we should be talking about this.”
“You’re wrong, Amelia. You’re the one person who needs to hear it.”
“He could come back.”
Ethan turned facing the path. “I’ll see him if he does.”
“Even so, this feels intrusive to me.”
“It makes me uncomfortable, too. Whatever is going on between you and John is none of my business. You’re both adults and maybe I should leave it at that. But you seem like a nice person and John is like family.”
