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She turned back, but she heard the sound again. A footstep.
There was a rushing sound in her ears, and a strange smell that was almost nutmeg. Fiona peered into the shadows and saw Mary standing at the edge of the trees in her dress and veil, watching them. She was holding a tiny, swaddled baby in her arms.
From behind Fiona, the crew foreman said, “Hand me that crowbar.” There was a cracking sound of wood. CeCe cried out.
“Jesus,” Jamie said.
Still, Mary watched. Fiona stood frozen, her hands still on her camera.
“My God,” Katie said softly. “Oh, my God. It’s her.”
Mary didn’t move.
“I guess we’ll call someone,” the crew foreman said.
“You’re right, Katie,” Roberta said. “We’ll have to bury her. We’ll have to bury both of them.”
In Mary’s arms, the baby moved sleepily. Fiona blinked. Mary vanished into the shadows of the trees.
And then there was nothing but the windblown field, the blank winter sky, the breath of cold wind. And silence.
