“I think so. There’s something I need to do.”

Nora followed my gaze to the other side of the graveyard. It only took a moment for her to figure out what I had planned. “Oh. Are you sure? Maybe now’s not the best time.”

I looked back into my aunt’s eyes, which had returned to their usual hazel color. “That’s the thing. I don’t think I’ll ever be sure, or that there will ever be a right time, but it’s something I need to do. You were right.” I turned back to face the gloom. “I haven’t been living. And I don’t want to be afraid of the memories anymore.”

Nora laid a hand on my shoulder. “Would you like some company? This isn’t something you should do alone.”

I smiled. “As it turns out I don’t think I will be alone.”

At first my aunt looked confused, but her expression quickly changed to one of surprise. She stared back into the darkness, her eyes searching for what I was seeing. “You don’t mean . . . ?”

“I’ll meet you at the police station.” I squeezed her hand, then stepped toward the path.

“Good luck, Brynn,” she called after me. “I’m proud of you.”

Now that the wind had died down, peace once again fell over the graveyard. The low-lying mist returned, swirling among the headstones, and the soft moonlight lit up the gravel path.

When I was a few feet away, the person beside my husband’s grave turned to face me. “I hope you don’t mind my being here.”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for quite some time now, Constance.”

Chapter 45

You picked a lovely spot.”

I couldn’t help but agree as my eyes trailed over the burial plot belonging to my husband. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting to feel when I saw the headstone for the first time, but all I felt was calm. It had been done right. My aunts had made sure of that. It was a lovely stone, and it had been beautifully carved. The plot, too, was well cared for. Someone had placed a small chrysanthemum plant at the foot of the stone.

When Constance saw where I was looking, she said, “Mary put those there. I watched her do it.”

I nodded.

A long moment passed before Constance finally said, “So, my sister confessed.”

I looked back at the spirit before me, her face lovely with its iridescent glow. “She is on her way to the police now.”

“It’s the right thing to do, I suppose. But, you know, she’s not the only one who is responsible.”

“Liz and Rip are going too.”

“I don’t mean either of them,” she said, frowning. “I mean me.”

Any further words died on my tongue.

“I pushed that girl, my girl, into madness, didn’t I?” She looked at me, then shook her head. “I was so angry when I was alive, and now all I can think is, what a waste.”