Page 83 of A Secret In The Garden

The soil cracked, and the chain of the locket fell in, ready to fully disappear. I grabbed ahold of it without thinking. The brilliant glow dimmed instantly. I pulled at the locket to remove the chain from the crack, but it wouldn’t budge. It was as if something had snagged it and refused to let it go.

Growing panicked at the thought of losing the locket, I pulled the necklace out from the crack under the ferns and moved to close it, catching the inscription on the shiny gold interior right before it clicked shut.

Digging deeper, we uncover both secrets and soil.

She wanted me to dig? Literally dig?

The blood pounded in my ears and through my heart so powerfully that my vision pulsed with the movement. I tucked the necklace back in the safety of my pocket, reached behind, and grabbed my trowel. Fear rushed like a river through my system as I carefully moved closer to the fern.

A crack of thunder made me scream and heave in a lungful of earthy air laced with Chanel No. 5, my tense body stiffened until I was sure it would snap. Light rain tapped against glass overwhelming my senses as it came at me from all directions, echoing in the expansive space. A hum of terror thrummed low. Too loud and too quiet all at once.

I held my breath, pressing my trowel into the crack, and wedged up a decent-sized clump of dirt. On my next push into the crack, the point of the shovel hit something hard, and I froze.

I feverishly dug at the dirt, deciding to remove the fern altogether. Something light in color remained where the furry rhizomes had stretched and crept out mischievously.

Carefully, I used my fingertips and brushed the dirt from it. I threw my trowel to the side, and it clanged behind me as a scream tore out of me.

The bones of a hand lay barely under the soil, with two bent fingers stretched out, mimicking the way the rhizomes of the rabbit’s foot ferns crawled out onto the ground.

Bones.

A hand.

Frantic, I slid my body backward, screaming until Sowerby burst through the conservatory doors.

“What in god’s name?” Sowerby’s words slowed as his mouth fell open, registering me on the ground. His eyes sparked with knowing as he looked carefully at the disturbed patch of soil across from me. “Oh my—Jasper,” he gasped before covering his mouth.

“It’s a hand. There’s a hand!” I shouted, feeling the blood drain from my face. “It’s—there’re bones buried next to the corpse flower!”

This whole time, Hester’s body had been buried in the conservatory. Right where I spent every waking hour. Jasper had done it after all. Killed Hester and buried her in the garden to be forgotten. He must’ve thought I wouldn’t dig that deep, that I wouldn’t find her bones.

I turned and vomited on the black bat flowers.

The old man’s eyes flickered closed before he calmly spoke again. “You need to call the police, dear.”

The doors slammed open again, and this time, Jasper barged through. “What’s going on? Eliza, are you okay?” He ran toward me, stopping when Sowerby stopped him from moving any closer to me.

“Stay away from me, you fucking psycho!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, sliding my body back across the stone path, frantically smashing and cracking stems and leaves as I pushed myself as far away from both men as possible. Small wheezing pants came as I struggled to tap the three numbers on my phone and call the police.

“Eliza, what’s going on? What happened?” Jasper rumbled, looking between me and Sowerby, confused.

“It was you. It was you this whole time!” I screamed, causing my voice to vibrate and scratch my throat. “That’s why she’s stayed in the manor. You did it—you fucking killed her. Who’s ever going to look in a dilapidated old garden?” I shook, covering my mouth with my trembling hand as I struggled not to get sick again. “That’s why you let the conservatory fall to ruin. That’s why you made the deal with me, you didn’t think I’d last long enough to find her!”

This whole time.

The color drained from Jasper’s face as he glanced at the disturbed soil.

Sowerby gently grabbed his arm and guided him from me and the conservatory while I called the police.

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I watched from outside of the garden, fogging up the square pane of glass with my breath in silence as I watched all of my hopes and dreams die just as poor Hester had. I adjusted my bag, my car keys jangling in my hand, my bag cutting a dent into my shoulder with the weight of my belongings; the rest of what I’d brought with me was in another bag on the ground at my feet. My cheeks felt tight with the raw sting of tears that stained them.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we really do need to cordon off the area,” the young officer said as he tried to move me away from the glass.

“What will happen to all of the plants? There are incredibly rare, expensive plants in there. You can’t just let everyone trample over them like that.” I watched as months of hard work were stomped and smashed as the police swarmed through the conservatory like fire ants.

“That’s not really my call, miss. I’m sorry, but you need to leave,” he repeated.