October 1, Tuesday

THE EARLY morning fog clung to the headstones like cobwebs, steeping the Whisper Graveyard in Irving, Alabama in extra spooky ambiance. Not that it needed it. The gaping hole of Rose Whisper's empty grave was unsettling enough.

I stood off to the side, hugging myself against the autumn chill, as Sawyer spoke in hushed tones with Detective Jack Terry from the Atlanta PD and Officer Ramirez from the Birmingham PD. The scent of their strong coffee mingled with the earthy smell of upturned soil. The roots of the tree that had brought the concrete vault to the surface reached into the air like long witches' fingers.

"So let me get this straight," Detective Terry said. "A freak storm uprooted this massive oak, which somehow managed to pop open a cement vault, revealing that the occupant had... what? Taken a stroll?"

Officer Ramirez grunted. "Zombie apocalypse, anyone?"

I rolled my eyes. "That's your professional assessment?"

The young officer had the grace to look sheepish. "Sorry, ma'am. Gallows humor."

"Do we know the casket was in the vault?" Detective Terry asked.

"I was a pallbearer," Sawyer said in a choked voice. "The last time I saw Rose's casket, it was sitting on the grave, waiting to be lowered into the vault."

"So you never actually saw it go into the vault?"

"No," Sawyer admitted. "The gravediggers hired by old man Whittam would've done it."

Jack Terry made a note on his pad. "Whittam, you say?"

"He's gone," Sawyer offered. "Died during the pandemic. The funeral home is boarded up."

"What about the gravediggers he hired?"

"Transients, mostly. He hired people passing through the local rehab center, or undocumented workers."

"So we're not positive the casket was in there to begin with."

Sawyer made a strangled noise. "Where else would it have been all this time?"

Detective Terry lifted his hand. "Easy. We're just talking this through. Can you think of anyone who could've done this?"

Sawyer's mouth tightened. "No."

But I knew he was lying—he had suspects in mind.

"There's a bit of a feud in Irving," I offered. "Between the Whispers and the Bensons."

At the mention of his former girlfriend's family, Detective Terry's expression darkened. "What kind of feud?"

"Petty misunderstandings about property and such," Sawyer said quickly. "It's nothing serious." He glanced at me and begged me to be quiet with his eyes. I pressed my lips together to stem the questions I wanted to ask.

"If someone took the casket," Ramirez said, carefully stepping around the fallen tree. "Their footprints were washed away."

"It would've taken more than one person," Detective Terry said, walking over to join him.

I wandered over to the other side of the fallen oak. Its massive root ball towered over me, chunks of earth still clinging to the gnarled wood. Something metallic glinted among the roots, catching my eye.

"Hey guys?" I called out. "I think I found something."

They hurried over as I pointed out the object. Ramirez donned a pair of latex gloves and carefully extracted it from the tangle of roots.

"It's a locket," he announced, holding it up.

The heart-shaped pendant dangled from a delicate chain, its surface tarnished but still beautiful.

"Can you open it?" I asked, leaning in for a closer look.

Ramirez fumbled with the clasp for a moment before it sprung open. Inside was a tiny photograph of a smiling couple—a man and woman I didn't recognize.

"That's Charles and Sophia Whisper," Sawyer said softly. "Rose's parents."

Detective Terry's brow furrowed. "Was Rose wearing this when she was buried?"

Sawyer shook his head. "No, she wasn't. I don't understand. This locket was a family heirloom. Rose told me she'd lost it years ago."

"Well, evidently it's been hanging out in this tree," Ramirez quipped.

"Or someone put it there," I mused.

"We need to expand the search area," Detective Terry said. "Everyone step back, please. Officer Ramirez, call for backup. We need a team out here ASAP."

Sawyer stepped up. "Is there any way we can keep this quiet? I don't want a bunch of looky-loos coming round to gawk at Rose's grave."

"We'll do what we can," Detective Terry said. "But these things have a way of getting out. Besides, the rumor mill might come in handy—if someone took the casket, maybe they bragged to someone about it.

Sawyer relented with a nod. We both knew word was probably already spreading like wildfire through anyone in town with a police scanner.

As the men sprang into action, I stood there, staring at the empty grave. The locket's discovery only deepened the mystery. How did a long-lost family heirloom end up in the roots of an ancient oak?

And where on earth was Rose's body?