Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Ian pushed the heavy door open wider with his shoulder and I followed in close behind him, my hand still clutched to his.
Dead silence greeted us as we entered the crypt, and our eyes went immediately to the three tombs that sat centered in the room.
The middle tomb had been carved with meticulous detail, its surface having retained a lustrous sheen, bearing testament to the craftsmanship of a bygone era. Delicate vines of ivy and roses, sculpted in exquisite relief, adorned its sides, offering a subtle touch of natural beauty to the otherwise austere setting. Lit by a soft, filtered light that streamed through a small stained-glass window, the tomb exuded an air of timeless reverence and the love for the first person enshrined there.
I repeated the words all who grew up in Willow Lake knew by heart about the Willow family mausoleum. “The middle tomb holds Verbena Willow, the daughter of the founding father of the town, Ignatius Willow. She died young. The mausoleum was erected by her father on family land which was donated to the church so that her final resting place would remain undisturbed and not be moved or lost through the years as is the fate of many old cemeteries. The two tombs to the sides of Verbena contain her mom and dad.”
We remained where we were in silence for a few moments out of reverence for the departed and I let my glance wander. I let out a gasp seeing the damage done to marble columns, pieces broken off them and vases that once sat atop marble stands now gone. The iron candle stands tucked in the corners were knocked over.
“Only a soulless person could damage and loot a mausoleum,” Ian said.
“There is nothing of true value here to steal,” I said, annoyed that someone could be so disrespectful.
“There is a market for everything and anything nowadays, Pep. It would be interesting to see what a marble urn from an old mausoleum would bring.”
I shuddered. “That’s creepy. We should see if any damage has been done beyond the three tombs, then I’ll call my dad and report the break-in.”
Ian nodded and walked around the right side of the tombs while I went to the left.
I stopped at the same time Ian did when we rounded the tombs.
I couldn’t help but say, “I told you we’d find a body.”
Sure enough, a man lay lifeless under the stained-glass window. He lay on his side, his arm partially concealing his face. His jeans appeared worn and in need of washing and it was the same for his black, hooded sweatshirt. His hair was a dull shade of brown and looked to be about shoulder length. And I noticed he wore black biker boots.
I went to step closer, but Ian beat me to it.
He nudged the guy’s leg with the tip of his boot. “Hey, mate, wake up.”
The guy’s arm dropped off his face, a face as pale as a ghost. His eyes were closed, and there was a bruise on his jaw. He had scruff on his face from lack of shaving or the beginnings of a beard and age-wise I figured him for somewhere in his late twenties to early thirties.
Ian took a step back. “We shouldn’t touch anything, Pep. This is for your da to see to.”
I said the obvious. “He looks dead.”
“Then we better not disturb the scene any more than we already have,” Ian said and slipped his cell out of his jacket. “We need to go outside and ring your da since there’s no cell service in here.”
My curiosity had me wanting to examine the scene more thoroughly, but Ian was right. We had to call my dad, Sheriff Madison, and report this.
I was about to tell him I’d wait there, and he could go call my dad, wanting time to examine the scene better, when he started shaking his head at me.
“I am not leaving you here alone in a mausoleum with a guy that appears dead but may not be.”
I turned my head so fast to give the guy another glance that I felt a pull in my neck. He wasn’t moving, not even the slightest and his sweatshirt was too baggy to be able to see if his chest rose and fell. No sound came from him, but that groan we had heard could have come from him or it could have been nothing more than wind groaning through the tree branches and headstones.
“Maybe we should see if he’s still alive,” I suggested then thought about what Ian said and shook my head. “Like you said, not a good idea to touch him.”
“We need to report this and get him medical attention if he is alive,” Ian said. “And I know you want to wait here to see what more you can gleam from the scene, but I would worry you’d somehow get yourself into trouble since you have a penchant for attracting it.”