“I do,” she said, “hence my apprehension. I think I’d rather go the way of the shovel.”

He patted the ground. “Their spirits aren’t here, at least at the moment. That much I can tell. It won’t be like last time. But I may be able to see.”

She squatted down next to him. “You sure you can do it?”

“It used to be easy. I may struggle a bit, but I’m feeling a little stronger now. Come on, it’ll be one less mystery we have to muddle through.”

He held out his hand and she took it. “Now what do I do?”

He lay back, the top of his head resting against the oldest stone. “Just lay next to me and close your eyes. Let’s see if I can make a connection.”

“Sometimes I think you’re scarier than the EBs,” she said, settling into the moldy leaves.

“This coming from the girl who EBs are afraid of. Now, try to relax and don’t talk.”

His hand felt warm wrapped around hers, and comforting. A bird fluttered overhead. She was tempted to open her eyes to watch it take flight.

She resisted the urge. This was Eddie’s show now.

They lay side-by-side for a while, until she could no longer tell how much time had passed. Despite laying in dirt and leaves and God knew how many bugs, she let all of her stresses go, to the point where she thought she had fallen asleep.

You’re just in between, Eddie’s voice whispered.

Are you in my mind?

Just enough to be able to talk to you and show you anything that comes through. How do you feel?

Like I’m floating on water. Is that normal?

I can think of worse ways to be. Can you still feel my hand?

She flexed her fingers, but she couldn’t tell if she was physically doing it or using the phantom fingers of her mind.

Yes.

Good. Don’t let go. We’re going to slip down now. Just stay with me, no matter what you see.

It suddenly felt as if she were being sucked into a great, dark funnel. A gust of air burst from her lungs.

Down they went, through crumbling dirt, the smell of earth, life and decay pummeling her senses.

They stopped with a jolt in a pitch-black chamber.

Where are we? she asked.

In the coffin. Let me see for you.

Slowly, a man came into view, his face in quiet, eternal repose. His waxy skin stretched over sharp cheekbones, his gray hair combed back over a high forehead. His mouth was a tight slash with bloodless lips above a cleft chin. The image gave her a start.

Which grave are we in? she said.

The oldest. She felt Eddie’s puzzlement.

That can’t be possible. He looks like he was just buried.

There must be something at work in the chemistry of the island that’s preserving his body. It’s like the incorruptibles, bodies that weren’t preserved in any special way that don’t decay. Catholic saints like Bernadette and Padre Pio are said not to have decomposed even though they died a long, long time ago. Environmental factors can cause a kind of mummification.

Jessica said, or thought, This is bizarre. I’m getting a lesson on mummification while in the coffin of a dead man. Before I get too weirded out, can we go to the others?

We can. Just hold on tight. I don’t want to lose you down here.

He chuckled.

Glad you can find humor in all of this, Jessica said.

Hey, welcome to my world. Now you see why I drink.

The next corpse looked similar to the first, only he was younger when he’d died, with full, sandy hair and a sharp nose. The last was the oldest of the three. The flesh of his face sagged from his skull, but it still retained a lifelike pallor. Unlike the others, this one hadn’t been prepped to look good in the afterlife. His hair was unkempt, with wild bristles sprouting from his nostrils and ears. Instead of a suit, he’d been buried in a dirty button down shirt and loose slacks.

Time to go back up, Eddie said.

To Jessica, it was like that moment between dreams when you suddenly feel as if you’re falling from a short height. She came to, feeling the ground swell up underneath her. Springing to a sitting position, she winced with pain as the blood rushed to her forehead.

“Holy shit,” she said. “That was wild.”

Eddie swatted dirt from his pants, offering a hand to help her up. “See, I still have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“Well, now we know there are three men buried behind the house. We just need to find out who they are.”

“Oh, I did that. There was just enough residual energy left for me to identify them.”

She held up a hand. “Before you say anything, let me guess. Could they be three generations of Ormsby patriarchs?”

A smile spread across his face. “Did you feel it when you were connected with me?”

“It doesn’t take a psychic to put two and two together. But why the unmarked graves? And why are the Last Kids afraid of them?”

The sun had set while they were exploring and the pervasive chill had taken root in the darkness. They wedged their way out of the hidden cemetery and headed to the house.

Eddie said, “I have a feeling they’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Daphne did her best to avoid the proceedings downstairs. She wanted to be as far from Nina D’Arcangela as possible.

I wonder what her real name is, she thought as she listened to Jason and Alice brush their teeth behind the semi-closed bathroom door. Probably something drab and mundane like Sally Johnson. And here we are, completely taken in by her. Tobe and Paul won’t listen to reason. All they can see are dollar signs. But what if this doesn’t work? What if no one wants to even air it? In the end, will it all be worth it? Jessica seems like the only one who really has a sense of what’s going on and even she’s concerned.

“We’re done,” Jason announced. She opened the door to a pair of bright, exaggerated smiles. She cupped each of their cheeks in her hands.

“Great job, you two. The cavity monsters will have to find other mouths to settle in tonight.”

Alice ran a brush through her fine hair. “Can we say goodnight to Uncle Paul?”

Daphne felt the muscles in her neck tighten. “Not tonight, dear. He’s busy with his friends.”

“Are they really making a movie?” Jason asked.

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Can I be in it?”

Daphne pressed her forehead against her son’s and kissed his nose. “You may not. Now, off to bed.”

They scooted into their room, jumping under the covers. Daphne put two more logs on the fire. Nothing seemed able to cut through the cold. She worried about the kids getting sick. I should set the alarm to check on the fire every couple of hours.

She could hear Paul and Mitch talking downstairs. Nina let out a slow, tired laugh.

She had to know about the children!

Daphne’s talk with Jessica had changed everything. Nina had proven to her that she had an ability few possessed. If she could find Jessica out of the millions of people in the country, and know about her gifts, surely she would have been able to sense the same thing in Alice and Jason.

Were they the insurance policy in case Jessica and Eddie didn’t take the bait?

And you went right along with it, Daphne. Not a moment’s hesitation when this whole thing was concocted over too many glasses of absinthe in the Hammersmith’s wine cellar in Savannah. You’re a terrible mother. You put money before them. Money and status.

As much as she wanted to punish herself, she put a smile on for her children, tucking them in bed. “Do you think Ms. Backman can read us a story?” Alice said.

“I can ask her.”

“Please, Mommy. And then you can read one too.”

Alice grinned, her large, shimmering eyes reflecting the dancing firelight. Daphne felt her heart tear in two. “I’ll be right back,” she said, patting the covers. Jason was already immersed in Tom Sawyer.