Bones & Bloodlines by Laurie Alberswerth

Author:Laurie Alberswerth [Alberswerth, Laurie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

AUDIE BRUSHED OFF Joleene’s fussing about a first-aid kit and walked straight outside. Lurched, perhaps. Behind her, Jude told the secretary they may or may not be back. My shin should receive a medal for its sacrifice. It was the only thing keeping Jude from a second-degree arson charge. If he hadn’t been distracted by blood, he’s be stealing matches from the church altar to burn the place down.

In the lot, she perched on the edge of the Jeep’s rear bumper. Surveying the landscape over Jude’s head as he bandaged her leg, one thing was noticeably missing: a certain black sedan.

“I grow weary of this town.” Her gut churned, and her brain ached worse than her leg.

“You and me both.” He completed his work, scrutinized it with a nod, and reached around her to the cooler. Extracting a Ziplok of baby carrots, he took three and handed the rest to her.

“Is there anything you don’t try to fix with food?”

“No. I thought you knew that. Now, what just happened?”

An invisible lead weight hung from her wrists, her ankles, her neck. “Someone sent us a message.” Was there such a thing as a reverse marionette? A doll that can only lay on the floor? She was becoming one.

“A message about what? If it was the preacher, does that mean what I think it means?”

“That he’s been dabbling in corpses by moonlight? I don’t know.” She eased down from her perch, bent her knee a few times, and returned the veggies to him, unmolested. “I need to move.”

Shake off the lead. Remind her lungs of their job description. Block the stifling darkness and the terror that would always come with it. Cemetery or lawn? Site of dead people or, if Angel Faust had steered three degrees to the right, site of almost-dead people?

Cemetery, it is.

Jude closed the hatch after swallowing two more carrots, and jogged to catch up. He could’ve crawled and caught up.

Sigh.

The day had clouded over again, and more leaves blanketed the graves. As dwellings for the deceased go, this one was pretty. Spacious, serene but not spooky, most vases filled with silk autumn flowers. She ran her gloved fingers over a monument worn smooth. Its better-preserved neighbor bore a date around the time of Renarde’s founding. The rare, house-shaped crypt dotted the landscape, but the ground in between was carpeted with gray stones. Sprinkled in for contrast were rose-colored ones, carved from ancient, southeast Missouri pink granite.

There, a grouping of Metcalfes. To the west, three Bryants. A squirrel in full hoarder mode raced by, sprinting straight to the names Alice and Gordon Powers.

Cassie’s parents.

Their marker could've been chiseled yesterday. In the undisturbed grass beside it, their teenage daughter would soon be buried.

What a nightmare.

In silence, they made a circuit of the grounds, following the fence line. The far corner held one of the mausoleums, sheltering the mortal remains of the Clayburn clan. The graves surrounding it had seen a century and a half; its masonry must’ve been laid generations ago.

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