Page 52 of Keeper of Enchanted Rooms

Merritt lifted his feet. “You don’t think its corpse is under the floorboards, do you?” A shiver ran down his spine like a hungry spider.

Hulda slammed down the paper. “Of course! Are there any marked graves near the house?”

“No. Well...” He glanced out the window. “I’ve been focused on other things and admittedly haven’t toured the entire island. The grass is so long, it could hide just about anything.”

“If we can find graves”—excitement leaked into her voice—“that will narrow it down. These documents state wholivedhere, not whodiedhere. Very smart, Mr.Fernsby.” She stood.

Merritt followed her lead. “Of course. I just... wanted you to figure it out on your own.”

She was already out the door.

Frowning, Merritt called, “Are we not going to finish breakfast?”

After enlisting Beth’s and Baptiste’s aid, the four of them ventured outside, Hulda leading the way. Merritt paused near the empty clothesline, adjusting his scarf as he slowly scanned the island.Hisisland. That was still such a bizarre thing. For a while, he’d wondered if his grandmother had bequeathed it to him as a curse. But in truth, the place had proven to be a pleasant adventure.

Except for the merging of his and Hulda’s bedrooms. And the shrinking lavatory.

Just think how pleasant it will be when the house is just a house again.His stomach tightened a hair at the thought. He saw Beth and Baptiste holding back and called, “Well, let’s split up. We’re looking for grave markers.”

Beth’s eyes widened slightly. Baptiste shrugged one shoulder.

“Miss Taylor to the east”—that was the smallest section of land, relevant to the house—“Baptiste south. Mrs.Larkin, do you have a preference for north or west?”

“I will take the west, Mr.Fernsby. The north has been thoroughly trotted from all the traipsing back and forth to and from the boat.”

“Only one part of it,” he countered.

The four of them split up. Beth walked slowly, running her hands over the top of the grasses, and Baptiste headed for a short hill for a better vantage point. Hulda marched straight ahead, perhaps thinking to start on the beach and work her way back.

Merritt began at the house and walked back and forth through the grass, moving north by a pace every time he turned. Reeds bowed under his feet; weeds crunched. He startled a cottontail on his fifth pass. “Sorry,” he offered, though the thing was so quick it likely hadn’t heard him.

He squelched around a small pond—more of a large puddle, really—surrounded by common reed. Probably not a good place for a grave. But was anywhere in a marsh agoodplace to bury a body?

What would they do if they came up empty-handed?

How long would it take him to simply cut down eighteen acres?

He was on his twenty-seventh pass when a breeze blew from the Atlantic, rustling the tall grass around his knees. The way it flowed over the meadow made it look like an ocean itself, green and gold. He searched the ripples for a cross, a stone, a break in the plants, but saw nothing.Where are you, wizard?

Something pulled his mind northwest. He ignored it, continuing on his back-and-forth path, but it tugged again, as if someone were groggily saying,Over there.

He glanced back at the house. He’d wandered some ways from it, but it was still there, perhaps watching all of them. Did it know what they were doing?

Licking his lips, Merritt changed direction and moved northwest, scanning the grass, running his fingers along its tallest tips as Beth had done. A hare watched him warily from behind an elm, ears twitching. A spindly weed as tall as his shoulder swayed with the breeze.

He stubbed the toe of his shoe on a rock.

“Surely not,” he said, and parted the grass.

Notwas right. It was just a rock.

Sighing, Merritt released the plants, only to spy a sliver of slate through them just as they closed.

Moving over a few feet, he parted the grass again.

There, as high as his shin, was a weathered rock embedded in the ground upright. Years had crumbled away its edges and face, but there was a distinct7on it.

He grinned. “I found something!”

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