The Restorer

“…must be family or friends, someone who is missing her. Surely one of them will come forward now that the story is front-page news,” Camille was saying.

“One would hope.”

A pause. “Whoever she is, she can’t be associated with Emerson. I think you understand what I’m saying. The last thing we need is some nosy reporter trying to connect this murder to the other one.”

“Both bodies were found in the same cemetery,” Devlin said. “A certain amount of speculation is to be expected.”

A tiny thrill prickled at the base of my spine. Another body had been found in Oak Grove?

The voices were closing in on me. I rose and made some noise on the stepping stones to give them fair warning. Even so, when they rounded the monument that had hidden me from their view, they both stopped cold.

I didn’t know why they seemed so shocked to see me or why the sight of them together made me so uncomfortable. I suspected the latter had something to do with the way Camille touched Devlin’s arm when she saw me on the path. The familiarity of that gesture struck me most of all because Devlin had always seemed so remote, so untouchable, but apparently not to Camille Ashby.

I pretended not to notice that touch or the glance they exchanged as I mustered up a pleasant greeting. “Oh, hello. I was just looking for you.”

“Aren’t you early?” Camille’s voice sounded tense.

Devlin glanced at his watch. “We said one so you’re right on time.”

I nodded, unexpectedly pleased by his defense. “I see the search is already underway.”

He cast a skyward glance. “It’s clouding up. We’re trying to beat the rain.”

“Then I suppose we should get down to business, as well,” Camille said, her tone brusque. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a moment with Amelia.”

“No problem.” Devlin stepped away and took out his phone.

I tried to focus on Camille, but I could feel his gaze lingering on me. It was a little disconcerting to be the target of all that intensity, and I found myself wishing that I’d taken a little more care with my appearance. My ponytail hung limp in the humidity and the only cosmetics I’d bothered with were SPF 30 and a liberal spritz of insect repellent. A more pulled together look, even for the cemetery, might have done wonders for my poise.

Camille, on the other hand, looked cool and collected even in the heat.