Page 40 of The Grave Robber

“Yes,” she said between hiccups.

Everything was finally making sense. Well, almosteverything. “You think he’s been haunting you all this time?”

“I know he has. It started right after.”

“And you think you deserve to be haunted. You deserve to bearrested. You deserve to die.”

“I do.”

“You’re so wrong, Halle.”

She pressed her mouth together, refusing to believe me.

“Wait, how long after?” I asked. “How long between theincident and the strange events at your house?”

“I don’t remember. It took me a while to catch on to thefact that I was being haunted.”

“If you had to guess.”

“Maybe a couple of weeks? A month?”

I nodded in thought. “And how long did it take for his bodyto be found?”

“A few months. We were way off the beaten path. It’s amiracle it was discovered at all.”

“Perhaps.” Something else made sense to me now. “Is that whyyou didn’t want me looking for your ghost? You didn’t want me talking to him?You thought he would tell me what you did?”

She put a hand over her eyes as though doing so would shutout the painful truth. Once again, I wondered how much to tell her. But thiswas her story, not mine. She’d been lied to and betrayed by her cousin. By herown parents when they had her committed. By the man in charge of her securityfor years. She deserved to know the truth. To be in on the plan. But how wouldI tell her without alerting Meacham? He almost certainly had her phone bugged,but he could also have her bag, watch, or her key fob bugged. Derangedpsychopaths should never be underestimated.

I grabbed my phone and did a search for the body they’dfound. It had happened almost two decades ago, so it took some time to find theright one, but I did begin to wonder about Idaho and all the discovered bodies.Not that New Mexico was any different.

When I finally located a decent article about it, I askedher, “Do you mind if I show you a picture of the man they found? It’s from hisdriver’s license.”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I’ve seen it before, a longtime ago.”

“Okay, if it bothers you, let me know.”

The look on her face, the one that suggested I hung the moonand regularly changed its lightbulb, had me questioning her sanity. Again.

“What?” I asked, wary.

“I’ve never had anyone treat me like this.”

“Like a human?”

“Like my story matters. Like it’s valid. Like my emotionaldistress is real and I was never crazy.”

“Like a human,” I reiterated. I turned my phone and showedher the pic of a man, clean-shaven

“I barely remember his face, but he does look like the manin the woods. Especially if you add a beard.”

“They said he’d been missing for seven months when he wasfound.”

“The timing sounds right. Do you think this is a differentguy?” she asked, surprised. “How many dead bodies could there be?”

“Bear with me. When is your cousin’s birthday?”

“May 4th.”

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