The Ghost and The Wolf: Book I of The Broken Series

Chapter III: Find the Grave

Overhead lamps lit the cemetery's main paths, so the graves themselves were blanketed in soft shadows. The evening calls of the birds, the chirping of a nearby frog, and the hum of nocturnal insects orchestrated the evening's soundtrack.

"I found your skateboard by the entrance. I moved it inside the gate before locking it for the night."

"Thanks, Gladys."

After a few more minutes of sharing quiet space together, Gladys asked, "How's school?"

"Not great, ma'am."

She smiled at him and patted his knee. "I know." She gestured to the surrounding graves. "Who are you visiting this evening?"

"Probably Kate Brewington Bennett again."

"You do love a tragic female, don't you? I hope the same isn't true for your love life."

He scoffed. "Love life? I don't need a love life. My ladies on the other side take all my time."

"A lady like Kate, though? I don't know if she's someone I would court more than once. Vanity is a wretched sin, and it killed her. She claimed to be the most beautiful woman in St. Louis. And what was her beauty secret? Arsenic. Not a smart choice. Dead in 1855 at the age of thirty-seven."

Lex smiled in appreciation. "Do you have all their stories memorized?"

"All of them? Oh, no. There are 87,000 stories laid to rest in this cemetery. I just remember the noteworthy or historical ones for the tours. And a few extras for my own amusement."

Using the arm of the bench for support, Gladys stood and glared down at Lex. She took on the voice and posture of an angry guard. "Ahem. Young man, you are to vacate the premises this instant. I'm not responsible for the consequences if you get caught again."

He sighed. "I know. Don't worry. I won't get you in trouble, Gladys. Just me. I'm used to it."

She examined him over the rim of her glasses, scowling a little. She almost said something, but stopped herself. "Good luck on your date."

"Thanks." He hurried over to give her a hand into her golf cart. She started to reach for the keys, but Lex said, "Hey, Gladys?"

"Yes, Lex?"

"Why do you volunteer here?"

She reached out and patted his cheek. "The same reason you chase them. I can't let go of somebody." The little engine flared to life, and Gladys nodded in goodbye.

Lex watched her taillights disappear around a windy bend. Gladys's words swam like little fish inside his gut. She had seen right through him. He tried to force the discomfort away, but his grief didn't work like that. It came and went, and he just had to live with it. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and approached his chosen subject for the evening.

After the puttering of Gladys' cart faded to nothing, Lex couldn't hear any other vehicles. Any lingering guests had vacated the cemetery at closing time about two hours ago. The volunteers and staffers who remained, he knew, would be few, and Gladys had his back. With a little caution and awareness, he should be left undisturbed.

Undisturbed by people, anyway. The weather was already getting on his nerves. His hoodie had felt too warm on him earlier in the day, but with the sun setting, the temperature plummeted. Late winter and early spring in St. Louis could bring snow, rain, hail, pleasant sunshine, ice. Any of it was possible in March, sometimes in the span of one week. Tonight, the forecast predicted dipping temperatures as well as freezing rain after midnight.

Because Mrs. Bennett's monument sat beside a chapel that drew plenty of tour groups and funerals, Lex approached with care. He watched the little building for a few minutes, lingering in the shadows behind an old elm tree. No movement or light betrayed any delinquent visitors. With quick, long strides, he slinked around the right side of the chapel and hurried to the grave.