December 27, Friday

THE GROUND squished beneath my boots as I made my way to unlock the graveyard gate, yesterday's rain having turned the cemetery into a muddy mess. Gray clouds still hung low, threatening more precipitation.

I walked among the headstones, straightening sodden wreaths, removing leaves and fallen branches. The cleanup was peaceful, meditative - until I reached Serena Benson's grave.

A delicate silver chain draped across her headstone, glinting dully in the weak morning light. It looked recently placed, the metal still bright against the stone. My hand reached out automatically, then stopped. Something about it felt... wrong.

I stepped back carefully and pulled out my phone.

Detective Terry answered on the first ring. "Jack Terry."

"It's Josephine Vanguard. There's something you should see at Serena's grave."

A sharp intake of breath. "What is it?"

"A silver necklace chain. It wasn't here yesterday."

"Don't touch anything," he said quickly. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Two hours later, his black sedan pulled up to the gate. He strode through the mud without seeming to notice it, his face tight with tension.

"Did you see anyone here yesterday? This morning?" he asked without preamble.

"No. The rain kept most people away yesterday, and you're the first visitor today."

He circled Serena's grave slowly, taking photos with his phone. He paid special attention to the muddy ground, documenting every partial footprint, every disturbance in the soil.

The crunch of tires announced another arrival - a silver Crown Victoria that screamed "police." A heavyset man in an ill-fitting suit emerged, badge already out.

"Detective Marshall, Birmingham PD." His tone was clipped as he surveyed the scene. "Step back, Terry. This is still an active investigation."

Jack's jaw tightened but he moved away. Detective Marshall pulled on latex gloves and carefully removed the chain, dropping it into an evidence bag.

"I told you to leave this alone," Marshall said to Jack. "Don't make me report this to your captain."

"I was called about suspicious activity in a cemetery," Jack said evenly. "Just doing my job."

Marshall's eyes narrowed. "Your job is in Atlanta. Stay there." He turned and walked away, the evidence bag swinging from his fingers.

After his car disappeared down the road, Jack stood staring at Serena's grave, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Does the necklace have some kind of meaning?" I ventured.

"Serena had a necklace that was never found after… after she died," he said hoarsely. "I suspected her killer had taken it as a trophy."

I thought of the delicate chain that had appeared like a ghost on her headstone. "You think her murderer left it here?"

"Or someone who knows what happened to her." His eyes were haunted. "Or maybe it's just a prank."

I pressed my lips together. "Maybe you should let Birmingham handle this."

He pulled a hand over his mouth. "If you noticed anything odd or anyone out of place, call me."

I promised him I would, then watched as he strode back to his car and drove away.

I looked back to Serena's new headstone that Jack Terry had bought to replace the one that had been vandalized beyond repair.

Some mysteries, it seemed, refused to stay buried.

No matter how deep you put them in the ground.