Page 99 of Darkwater Lane

He considers a moment. “You know, it was the Fourth of July year before last. I remember because we pulled up the grass before I left for vacation—I always take my grandbabies to the beach that week to give their parents a bit of a break. It wasn’t until I came back that we were able to lay the new sod.”

My heart gallops in my chest as the implication of what he’s saying becomes clear. “So, the grave was left unattended with the sod pulled back for a week?”

He lifts a shoulder. “More or less, yeah. We didn’t have any other burials that week, so it wasn’t a problem. Usually, something like that would be an eyesore, but we don’t get a lot of visitors out here.”

“When you came back, did you notice anything different about the grave?”

He frowns. “Different how?”

“Like, had the ground been disturbed in any way?”

“I mean, the ground had been churned, but that was just Mike prepping the dirt for the sod.”

“Is Mike around anywhere so I can ask him about it?”

He shrugs. “He works in the office now. You’d have to look for him there.”

I hold out my hand again. “You’ve been very helpful. Thanks for taking the time to answer my questions.”

He nods, and we shake. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Me too, I think as I start back toward my car. Though I think I’ve at least narrowed down the window for when Melvin’s bones were stolen. If someone salted the gravesite, it makes sense the cemetery would have to dig up the ground and go deep enough to remove the affected dirt. At that point, the grass would be removed, along with about a foot of earth. Which would make it that much easier for someone to dig up a grave without drawing too much attention.

Once at my car, I drive back to the cemetery gates and park in the lot by a small office. There’s only one person inside, a middle-aged man wearing navy pants and a slightly yellowed shirt with a short green tie. He smooths his hand over the tie and stands when I enter. “Welcome to Shady Grove Cemetery,” he says. His eyes carry the desperate hopefulness of a salesman trying to close a deal.

I start to introduce myself but then remember that I purchased Melvin’s lot under my former name. I hadn’t wanted it to be attached to Gwen Proctor. I swallow down my revulsion and force myself to say, “Hi, my name is Gina Royal. I have some questions about a grave.”

His eyes flare. “Royal?” He seems confused at first, though it’s obvious from the slight quaver to his voice that he knows myconnection to the celebrity who was once buried in their midst. He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s my understanding that my ex-husband’s grave was robbed. I’m here to find out who did it and when.”

“Um…” He glances around, and I note the panic in his eyes. “Okay. Sure. I should probably call my manager, though. She’ll probably be able to help more than I can.”

“Are you Mike?”

He nods but seems surprised and a little panicked that I know his name.

“My understanding is that my ex-husband’s grave was vandalized a year and a half ago—the ground was salted, and you helped fix it.”

“Um…” It’s obvious he has no idea what I’m talking about.

“You tilled the ground to loosen the dirt for laying down sod,” I prompt.

He shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I didn’t have anything to do with—I just do what I’m told, and no one told me to do that.” He’s on the verge of panicking. I’d feel sorry for him if I didn’t think he had information that might be helpful.

“I heard there was a woman who’d been visiting the grave before that incident.”

He nods again.

I pull up the photo of Rowan I showed to Callum just a few minutes ago. “Is this her?”

He studies the picture. “Maybe?” I can’t decide if he’s trying to be evasive or genuinely isn’t sure.

“When I came in here, you recognized my name instantly.” He seems relieved that I don’t press him on the picture.

“Sure. Of course I recognized your name.”

“Because you know Melvin Royal is buried here.”

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