Page 18 of The Graveyard Girls (Detective Ellie Reeves #11)

SEVENTEEN

Green Gardens Cemetery

Hetty Bramble despised winter and the decay it caused to an already half-dead area.

It was difficult enough to keep the parched land alive in the summer and spring and fall but cold temperatures and recent rains destroyed all her hard work. Still, she felt called to do her best to spruce up the graveyard for the families who came to mourn their lost loved ones.

She spotted Ms. Maeve’s little sedan then saw her in the distance at her husband’s grave.

The sweet lady was one of them. She came every weekend to sit with her deceased husband and toast the years they’d shared together.

Usually Sunday mornings with her coffee. And Friday nights with her Chardonnay.

Hetty had never come close to marriage herself. She’d measured every man she met against Earl Bramble who’d been mean and as prickly as a porcupine. Long ago, she’d decided she didn’t need a man in her life. Ever.

Especially after Ruth Higgins had stolen Clint Wallace from her. She thought Ida secretly wanted him, too. After all, all the girls did.

He never was yours or Ida’s, Hetty , she reminded herself.

Ruth was pretty and vibrant and had nice clothes whereas Hetty was homely, wore hand-me-downs and had no chance of getting out of Brambletown.

Ruth was set on a path to UGA with a scholarship, not that she’d needed it because her rich daddy, the mayor, would have forked over tuition, room and board, an expensive wardrobe and a fancy new car.

But Hetty’s future had been tied to the graveyard with no way out.

Hetty patted the dash of her jalopy of a pick-up truck. It had taken her scrimping and saving to buy when she was seventeen, but a tiny smile tugged at her lips. She was damn proud of it because she’d bought it all on her own.

Once Ruth disappeared, she’d thought Clint might finally notice her, but he’d been so smitten with Ruth he had a stick up his butt. He’d also been questioned about her disappearance but his daddy made certain any suspicion toward him was swept under the rug.

Tugging her ski cap and work gloves on, she climbed from the driver’s side, walked around to the truck bed and hauled a bag of fertilizer from the floor.

Although the ground was still damp from last night’s rain, she wanted to get this fertilizer spread before the ground became too hard to absorb the nutrients.

It was too early for flowers, but it would help revive what little grass there was, and she tried to keep the common area where the angel statue stood decent. Once Ms. Maeve left, she’d spread some across her husband’s grave in hopes for some green to appear in spring.

As she walked toward the angel statue, she noticed a red Ford Escape parked down the hill. She didn’t recognize it, and she knew what everyone in town drove. Curious, she squinted to see who it belonged to.

A familiar-looking woman in sweats emerged from behind a tree a few graves over from Ms. Maeve.

Although it had been years since she’d seen her, she instantly recognized her.

Tilly Higgins, Ruth’s sister.

A curse word spewed from her mouth, and she dropped the opened bag of fertilizer. A gust of wind picked up, swirling it in all directions. A nervous laugh rumbled from her as she wiped it from her face and spit it from her mouth.

Yep. Doomsday was here. Tilly Higgins was back in town. And the shit was already hitting the fan.