“We’re here to visit the cemetery,” Sam said.
“This is a private facility,” he said.
“I thought the cemetery was open to the public,” Sam said.
There was a long pause. “Pull in and wait. Someone will be down shortly to take you there.”
Maeve drove in as the gate slid open, then immediately closed behind them. They parked as directed. From here, there was no sign of the hospital building itself. To the right, a paved road lined with beech trees curved up a hill. To the left, a dirt path led behind what looked like a maintenance shed.
A few minutes later, an ATV came speeding down the hill. The driver was a young woman with brown hair flowing out from under her helmet. She wore a khaki uniform with an insignia and name tag, and she gestured for them to follow her. She drove fast, leading them the way she had come, up the gentle hill.
The road curved up through the beechwood forest. Dappled light penetrated the leaves and branches. Kate noticed a small gazebo set in a sunny glade. Two people walked along a path, watching them as they passed by. A little farther, there was another clearing with a tennis court, and, across the drive, a large swimming pool. At the top of the hill was a large white building, with Ionic columns at the front door. Large stone planters overflowed with white geraniums.
The ATV turned onto a narrow lane that passed some smaller buildings and stopped at the entrance to the cemetery. From here, Kate looked over the gravestones and across an expansive lawn, sloping to the edge of Narragansett Bay. A long dock, with two powerboats tied alongside, stretched into the bay. Twenty yards off the end of the dock, a sleek sailboat sat on a mooring. Two kids were fishing in a rowboat; it bounced in the wakes of larger boats passing by.
Kate, Sam, and Maeve climbed out of the car. The ATV driver pulled a clipboard from a storage box on the vehicle and walked toward them.
“Thanks for getting us here,” Sam said to the woman.
“You have to sign in,” the escort said, handing Sam the clipboard. Kate read her name tag and saw that her name was Jennifer. The insignia looked like a monogram, the letters MK entwined together—Maynard-King.
“No problem,” Sam said, signing her name.
“I need all three of you to sign,” Jennifer said. “And I need your drivers’ licenses. Plus, put down your car’s make, model, and license number.”
“Wow, you have a lot of security,” Sam said. Kate pulled out her license and watched Jennifer take a photo of it, as well as Sam’s and Maeve’s.
“Here are the rules,” Jennifer said. “Other than the cemetery, the grounds are completely closed to visitors. You can be right here, but that’s it. I will stay until you’re ready to leave.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Thank you.”
Jennifer nodded.
“Just out of curiosity,” Kate said. “Why is the cemetery open to the public, since the hospital is so private?”
“Well, because people want to pay respects and visit their loved ones who have passed,” Jennifer said, gesturing at the graves. “No one’s going to stand in the way of that. Maynard-King is a place of compassion, above all else.”
“That’s kind of you,” Kate said, thinking that Jennifer’s words sounded very formal, as if memorized from a pamphlet.
“How do we find someone’s grave?” Sam asked.
“You don’t know where it is?” Jennifer asked with a frown of suspicion. “You’ve never been here before?”
“No,” Sam said. “This is our first time.”
“I have a map,” Jennifer said, removing a laminated card from a compartment in her dashboard. “What is your loved one’s name?”
“Dr. Jonathan TylerIii,” Sam said, and Kate watched for Jennifer’s reaction. Her expression was impassive. Jennifer stared at all three of them and took a long time to answer.
“He’s D3. Last row on the right. He has a large headstone—you can’t miss it,” Jennifer said.
“Thank you,” Sam said.
Jennifer nodded. She stowed the clipboard. She looked at her phone and half turned away, a signal that she was dismissing them. Kate, Sam, and Maeve walked through an opening in a low stone wall, toward the graves. When Kate turned to look over her shoulder, she saw Jennifer watching them intently.
Even before they reached Dr. Tyler’s gravestone—enormous, topped with an angel—they could see that someone had left a bouquet of white roses there. The roses were tied together with a trailing vine. Kate spotted a small white envelope tucked into the flowers, camouflaged by the white petals. She knelt, reached in to remove it, and pricked her finger on a tangle of thorns. A dot of blood dripped onto the envelope. Her finger hurt, and she brought it to her lips.
She read the message on a card inside:
