Chapter 18

“Are we sure we wanna do this?” Mercedes warily peered out the window as their car crept down the gravel drive, entering the Bonaventure Cemetery. “This place is spooky at dusk.”

“I like spooky.” Paisley rubbed her palms together. “Dusk equals ghost peeping at its best. If you see a little girl walking around, don’t be alarmed.”

“Little Gracie Watkins,” Mercedes said. “I heard the story about how people have seen her downtown, near where the Pulaski Hotel used to be.”

“Bonaventure is bigger than I remember.” Carlita eased the car off to the side and shifted into park. “Since we’re running out of daylight, I figured we should try to find Rudy McCoy’s grave first.”

“We’ll be able to cover more ground if we split up,” Paisley said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Mercedes said.

Carlita shut the engine off. The trio climbed out and she locked the car doors. “I’ll take the far left quadrant. Mercedes can search the far right while Paisley checks out the middle.”

“Got it.” Mercedes gave them a thumbs up. “Stay safe and holler if you need help.”

“Like this?” Paisley screamed at the top of her lungs.

Carlita winced. “That’ll do the trick.”

With a plan in place, she and Rambo headed left. Walking at a brisk clip, they searched every square inch for signs of disturbed dirt.

The sun had already set and the majestic live oaks, dripping with moss, cast eerie shadows across the gravestones.

Hoot. Hoot…hoot…hoot. Carlita instinctively stumbled back. A great horned owl, perched on a tree limb, peered down at them.

Woof. Rambo charged toward the tree, dragging Carlita and his leash along with him. She tripped on a tree root, flew forward, and landed hard on her hands and knees.

“Rambo!”

Completely oblivious to her fall, Rambo barked loudly, pawing at the tree, daring the owl to swoop down. The owl cocked his head, unfazed by the attention.

Mercedes and Paisley, noticing Carlita was down on the ground, ran over.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Carlita grasped her daughter’s outstretched hand and pulled herself to her feet. “Rambo chased after an owl. Unfortunately, I was holding his leash and tripped on a tree root.”

“It’s dangerous after dark,” Paisley said. “I almost fell myself.”

“For safety’s sake, I think it would be best if we drive the rest of the way around.” Carlita limped back to their starting point.

As soon as everyone was inside the car, she eased onto the gravel road, driving slow enough so Mercedes and Paisley could look for signs of recent activity.

They reached the corner and turned right, entering a newer section of the cemetery.

“Hang on. I think I see something,” Paisley said.

“I do too.” Carlita left the car idling in the event they needed to make a quick getaway. The trio trekked over to the spot, only to find a temporary headstone bearing a woman’s name. “This isn’t it.”

“I think we’re wasting our time.” Carlita turned to go.

“Wait. I see something over on this side.” Mercedes turned her cell phone’s flashlight on and shined it on the headstone: Rudolph “Rudy” McCoy . Below his headstone was a date, along with: Friend and son, sorely missed.

“I can’t believe we actually found it.” Carlita clasped her hands, solemnly reflecting on McCoy’s final resting place. “May he continue to rest in peace.”

“Not recently, he hasn’t.” Mercedes motioned to the fresh dirt and visible mound.

Carlita squinted her eyes, surveying the nearby plots for signs of graves recently dug up. “I’m not sure we’re going to find anything else. We could be at this all night.”

“At the risk of stating the obvious, this isn’t the only cemetery in town,” Paisley said. “For all we know, the cops could be focusing their investigation on another cemetery.”

“Good point.” Carlita returned to the car and waited for the women to climb in before driving off. “I say we call it a day.”

“Or a night.” Mercedes grew quiet, watching her mother crisscross through the cemetery. “Where are you going?”

“I have no idea. I think I got turned around.” Making two more turns, Carlita passed by McCoy’s gravesite. “We’re going in circles.”

“Turn left at the stop sign.”

Carlita turned left, passing by a familiar landmark, one she’d noticed on the way in. “Thanks, Mercedes. I think we’re heading the right way now.”

A car crested a small hill. Bright headlights nearly blinded Carlita.

“The jerk has his brights on,” Mercedes said.

A spotlight illuminated the entire interior of the car. “Whoa.” Paisley squeezed her eyes shut. “I think my retinas just got burned.”

Carlita tightened her grip on the steering wheel, watching as the vehicle made a sudden hard turn, blocking their only exit. “We’re trapped.”