Page 102 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I shook my head. “No. Now that I know that Marc and Anthony are cut from the same cloth, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrecked it himself to get our sympathy.”
“But Lawrence is there, too, Melanie. Remember what happened at the mausoleum.”
My arm hurt at the memory, but I couldn’t let fear hold me back. There was just too much at stake. “Give me your keys, Jayne. Please. We’re running out of time.”
With a heavy sigh, she went to the makeshift coatrack and pulled her purse from a hanger. “For the record, I don’t agree with what you’re doing. I think this would be one of your decisions that Jack would call rash and un-thought-out. Just let me tell him—”
“No. He needs his rest. Let him sleep. I’ll tell him everything when I get back.”
“If you get back.” She dropped her keys in my outstretched hand.
“What do you mean,if? It’s not like Marc and Anthony are going to kill me or anything.”
Her eyes widened. “I used to think Anthony wouldn’t be capable of anything like that. Until tonight.” She swallowed, and I thought for a moment she might actually cry. “Apparently, I’m not a very good judge of character.”
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d put my arms around her for a quick hug. She looked as surprised as I felt. “Well,” I said, “if it makes you feel any better, neither am I. At least this way we have a chance to beat them at their own game.” I turned toward the demilune chest in the hallway and opened the doors to pull out a heavy pair of sweatpants and waterproof ankle boots. “I slip these on to take the dogs out,” I offered in explanation. “They’ll keep me warm and dry.” I sent a paranoid glance toward the stairs, afraid that I’d see Jack and he’d tell me not to go. “I’ll put these on in the car.”
“Here, then,” she said, diving into her coat pockets and pulling outa pair of thick gloves. “These are waterproof and fleece lined.” I gratefully accepted them, knowing they’d be a lot warmer than my leather gloves. “And this.” She placed a thick knit hat over my head, pulling it below my ears and tucking in my hair. “But it doesn’t mean I’m agreeing that you should be doing this.”
“I know. And if anybody asks, I’ll let them know that you tried to stop me.”
“I’ll remember that.” Jayne stepped forward to tuck my scarf into the collar of my coat. “I have a phone charger in the car, so plug in your phone so it’ll have a full charge by the time you get to Gallen Hall. I want you to call me when you get there, and I’ll want you to check in every fifteen minutes with a text. And if you don’t, I’m calling Thomas.”
“Really, Jayne, I don’t—”
“That’s the deal. Either agree or I’m going to tell Jack right now.”
“Fine,” I said, moving toward the door, making sure no one else was in the foyer to see me leave.
“Dad’s shed is unlocked,” Jayne said. “You’ll want a shovel and a flashlight.”
“Right,” I said, embarrassed that I probably wouldn’t have thought about either until I was almost at the cemetery. I pulled open the door and saw Greco’s hurricane lanterns flickering brightly as white flakes blew across the piazza, dancing around the glass like fairies.
“My car has front-wheel drive,” Jayne offered. “But if there’s anything more than half an inch, you won’t get any traction. Just remember to keep your phone charged.”
I nodded, walking toward the door at the end of the piazza, afraid to look back just in case I changed my mind.
“I love you, Melanie. I’m glad you’re my sister.”
I just nodded as I let myself through the piazza door, unable to speak because of the sudden lump in my throat.
CHAPTER 34
Fat snowflakes were falling by the time I pulled onto the Ashley River Bridge. Only a few other drivers braved the roads, tempting fate and the potential closing of the bridges. I tried not to think about how I would get back with closed bridges and icy roads. Charleston hadn’t had a significant snowfall since 1989, so, except for the northern transplants, not many of us knew how to drive in snow.
My hands hurt from clutching the steering wheel too tightly. I flexed my fingers, trying to make the blood flow back into the tips. I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road to check on the status of my phone charge, but I’d plugged it in just as Jayne had instructed. Remembering her concern brought me a small comfort, making me feel less alone on my mission, the cord charging my phone like a lifeline.
I found the road to Gallen Hall after missing it the first time because of the snow. My father’s gardening tools shifted in the trunk, clanking loudly as I slowly drove over the uneven dirt road, straining to see through the falling snowflakes. In addition to a battery-powered camping light I’d found in the shed, I’d brought a shovel, a spade, and a pick. I’d grabbed the latter at the last second, realizing that the ground would be rock-hard from the cold. I refused to consider that I might not bestrong enough to swing the pick with enough force to even break the surface. Failure wasn’t an option, not after I’d come this far. I thought of Jack and how much finding these rubies would mean for him both emotionally and professionally. I recognized, too, that I wanted Jack back—the charming, smart, and capable husband and father I loved. With renewed determination, I straightened my shoulders, then turned Jayne’s car into the deep, dark woods, where the trees seemed to swallow me as I drew closer to the house.
When I neared the edge of the woods, I stopped the car and switched off my headlights so I wouldn’t alert anyone who might be in the house. My plan was to slip into the cemetery without being seen, do what needed to be done, then head back home before the snowfall got heavy enough to close the roads. It had seemed like a clear plan when I’d left the house, and only now that it was too late could I spot the giant leaps of faith it would take to successfully execute it. I glanced at my phone, knowing one call from me for help would be all it would take. But I had to try. And if I failed, then I’d call.
I peered down the dark road, the snow reflecting the ambient light from the sky like some celestial flashlight, making it easier to see. With a sigh, I reached over to the floor of the passenger seat and grabbed Jayne’s umbrella. Bracing myself against the cold and snow, I jumped out of the car and began walking through the thin coating of snow, stopping before I reached the horseshoe of the front drive in an attempt to remain unseen.
With an exhalation of relief, I saw no lights on in the house, nor did I pick out the shapes of a car or cars on the front drive. Either Anthony and Marc had stayed in town, not wanting to risk the weather, or they hadn’t yet figured out the final clue.
I felt lighter as I made my way back to the car. I flipped on the headlights, then drove past the house toward the cemetery, stopping in front of the main gate, the lights from the car shining through the black bars and reflecting off the fat snowflakes. I put the car in park, leaving the headlights and wipers on before reaching under the seat for the drawings and the map that Jayne had placed there when we’d left her house.
I pushed the seat back and placed the map on the steering wheel to orient myself to where the four black Sharpie marks indicated the spots in the cemetery. I looked up at the gate and the adjacent fence sections, then back to the map, realizing that the edges of the drawings corresponded to the iron gate designs that edged the cemetery.
