October 10, Thursday

THE SOFT scratching of my pen against paper was interrupted by the rumble of an approaching vehicle. I glanced up from my perch on the porch swing to see a delivery truck lumbering down the road, followed closely by a familiar black sedan.

I set aside my notebook and headed towards the graveyard. As I approached, I saw Detective Jack Terry emerge from the sedan, his face set in grim lines.

"Ms. Vanguard," he called out, nodding in greeting.

"Detective," I replied, watching as the delivery men began unloading a sheet-covered object from the truck. "New headstone?"

Jack's expression softened slightly. "For Serena. The vandalism... well, I couldn't leave her marker in that state."

I nodded, a pang of sympathy tightening my chest. "Of course. It's a thoughtful gesture."

We stood in silence as the workers removed the old headstone and carefully maneuvered the new headstone into place. The polished granite gleamed in the autumn sunlight. Serena's name was etched in elegant script.

Once the workers had finished and driven away, Jack turned to me, his eyes sharp. "Any new developments I should know about, Ms. Vanguard?"

I shook my head. "Nothing beyond the usual small-town gossip."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's the gossip saying these days?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Oh, you know. A third of the town believes Rose has risen from the dead… a third believe Satan worshippers robbed her grave… and a third believe she was never buried in the first place."

Jack nodded slowly, his gaze sweeping across the graveyard. "What's your take on some of the locals? Sawyer King, for instance?"

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Sawyer's name. "He seems... dedicated to this place. Spends a lot of time restoring the headstones."

"And the Benson sisters? Tilda and Franny?"

I hesitated, thinking of the vivianite crystals I'd transferred between the estranged sisters. "I don't know them well," I hedged. "Tilda runs the library, Franny the jewelry store. They seem... nice enough."

Jack's eyes narrowed slightly. "They were Serena's sisters, you know. She left town because of them. Said there was too much family drama, too many secrets."

"Oh?" I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. "That's... interesting."

"Isn't it?" Jack agreed, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Serena never went into details, but I got the impression there was more going on in this town than meets the eye."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The urge to confess about the curse was almost overwhelming. But something held me back—the fact that I'd look like a lunatic.

"You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you, Ms. Vanguard?" Jack pressed.

I met his gaze, forcing a smile. "I'm just the temporary caretaker, Detective. I'm afraid I'm not privy to the town's secrets."

Jack held my gaze for a long moment, and I had the distinct impression he knew I was holding something back. Finally, he nodded, turning back to Serena's new headstone. He ran his hand over it slowly in a loving gesture.

"If you do hear anything that might shed light on the vandalism or Rose's disappearance, I hope you'll let me know."

"Of course," I agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. "By the way, a reporter from the AJC stopped by—she said she knew you."

He nodded. "Rainie. I thought a story about the graveyard might shake loose some information."

"Maybe," I agreed. There might be people who had left Irving—like Serena had—who could shed some light on the goings-on in Irving.

I was oddly relieved when the man made his way back to his car. But the relief was short-lived, replaced by a gnawing guilt. Was I becoming part of the problem? Another keeper of Irving's secrets?