Read Online The Shadow and the Night: Glenncailty Castle, Book 3 by Lila Dubois - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lila Dubois
Ads: Link
their ears.
Melissa released the button. The sound stopped, the silence almost as deafening as the siren. She focused on Tristan.
“They’re gone,” he said. “That worked. The memories are gone.”
They were avoiding her.
Melissa couldn’t blame them, but it still hurt. It had been two days, and she was almost done with the bones. Ever since they’d suffered from a collective delusion, Tristan and Sorcha had given her a wide berth. They were friendly when she saw them—Sorcha in the lobby and Tristan in the parking lot when he was on his way out to the car and she was on her way in again after a trip to Dublin for supplies.
She’d left a message with the front desk, asking Sorcha if she’d supply Melissa with the documents she and Séan had found. The papers had been waiting for her at the door to her room a few hours later. She had a meeting in the morning with Seamus O’Muircheartaigh, the owner of Glenncailty, and Elizabeth Jefferies, the general manager.
She’d give them a verbal report on what she knew, provide them with a written report, a CD of the 3D rendering she’d made, as well as all the photos she’d taken. The bones were neatly boxed up. Jurisdiction over them was up to Detective Sergeant Oren, whom she’d called. He wasn’t able to be there for the meeting in the morning, but she’d agreed to forward him all of her findings.
Her back hurt from being bent over her computer, and her left forearm was aching from typing. The sun was just starting to set. Changing from slippers to socks and boots, she grabbed her jacket and headed out for a walk.
She took the exit at the end of the hall, following the path that led away from the castle deep into the gardens. They were expansive and a beautiful mix of manicured perfection and wild vegetation. Her purposeful walk slowed until she was simply wandering, occasionally touching the flowers she passed. The garden was banded on three sides by high stone walls, the fourth being the castle itself. Beyond the back wall of the castle there were several buildings, one of which she guessed was a church. When she ran across a gate in the wall, her curiosity got the better of her and she slipped through it. A pretty little church, its yard overgrown, was surrounded by tall grass. Beside it was a stone cottage with a low ironwork fence, the yard inside it neatly kept. There was a light on in the windows of the cottage.
Respecting the privacy of whoever lived there, she headed for the church. The wooden door was half-rotted, half-petrified. She poked her head in, looking at the cross that still hung on the wall. The wind picked up, cutting through the fabric of her pants. Melissa shivered and backed up, planning to return to the castle.
The ground beside the church caught her eye. Unlike the castle gardens, or even the area around the stone cottage, the land here was lumpy, the tall grass not enough to hide the tightly grouped mounds.
Melissa blew out a breath. Stepping carefully, she walked the area, drawing a topographical map in her mind. It was too uneven to be natural, especially in the floor of a valley. There was something under here.
One of her best friends and travel buddies was an archaeologist. She could scan a landscape and point out places where there was something under the soil—what to Melissa would look like a little hill or natural valley would, to her friend, scream out “dig me up!”
Melissa could do the same thing—with graveyards.
She picked the highest mound and started ripping up grass. It took her half an hour, and the light was nearly gone before she hit stone. Using her phone as a torch, Melissa looked at the small area she’d excavated. There was stone six inches under the soil—probably a gravestone that had been knocked over.
A forgotten graveyard wasn’t unheard of. The church beside it clearly wasn’t functioning anymore, meaning there was no one to care for or maintain the cemetery. Melissa
Melissa released the button. The sound stopped, the silence almost as deafening as the siren. She focused on Tristan.
“They’re gone,” he said. “That worked. The memories are gone.”
They were avoiding her.
Melissa couldn’t blame them, but it still hurt. It had been two days, and she was almost done with the bones. Ever since they’d suffered from a collective delusion, Tristan and Sorcha had given her a wide berth. They were friendly when she saw them—Sorcha in the lobby and Tristan in the parking lot when he was on his way out to the car and she was on her way in again after a trip to Dublin for supplies.
She’d left a message with the front desk, asking Sorcha if she’d supply Melissa with the documents she and Séan had found. The papers had been waiting for her at the door to her room a few hours later. She had a meeting in the morning with Seamus O’Muircheartaigh, the owner of Glenncailty, and Elizabeth Jefferies, the general manager.
She’d give them a verbal report on what she knew, provide them with a written report, a CD of the 3D rendering she’d made, as well as all the photos she’d taken. The bones were neatly boxed up. Jurisdiction over them was up to Detective Sergeant Oren, whom she’d called. He wasn’t able to be there for the meeting in the morning, but she’d agreed to forward him all of her findings.
Her back hurt from being bent over her computer, and her left forearm was aching from typing. The sun was just starting to set. Changing from slippers to socks and boots, she grabbed her jacket and headed out for a walk.
She took the exit at the end of the hall, following the path that led away from the castle deep into the gardens. They were expansive and a beautiful mix of manicured perfection and wild vegetation. Her purposeful walk slowed until she was simply wandering, occasionally touching the flowers she passed. The garden was banded on three sides by high stone walls, the fourth being the castle itself. Beyond the back wall of the castle there were several buildings, one of which she guessed was a church. When she ran across a gate in the wall, her curiosity got the better of her and she slipped through it. A pretty little church, its yard overgrown, was surrounded by tall grass. Beside it was a stone cottage with a low ironwork fence, the yard inside it neatly kept. There was a light on in the windows of the cottage.
Respecting the privacy of whoever lived there, she headed for the church. The wooden door was half-rotted, half-petrified. She poked her head in, looking at the cross that still hung on the wall. The wind picked up, cutting through the fabric of her pants. Melissa shivered and backed up, planning to return to the castle.
The ground beside the church caught her eye. Unlike the castle gardens, or even the area around the stone cottage, the land here was lumpy, the tall grass not enough to hide the tightly grouped mounds.
Melissa blew out a breath. Stepping carefully, she walked the area, drawing a topographical map in her mind. It was too uneven to be natural, especially in the floor of a valley. There was something under here.
One of her best friends and travel buddies was an archaeologist. She could scan a landscape and point out places where there was something under the soil—what to Melissa would look like a little hill or natural valley would, to her friend, scream out “dig me up!”
Melissa could do the same thing—with graveyards.
She picked the highest mound and started ripping up grass. It took her half an hour, and the light was nearly gone before she hit stone. Using her phone as a torch, Melissa looked at the small area she’d excavated. There was stone six inches under the soil—probably a gravestone that had been knocked over.
A forgotten graveyard wasn’t unheard of. The church beside it clearly wasn’t functioning anymore, meaning there was no one to care for or maintain the cemetery. Melissa
Similar Books
