Tess Gerritsen - The Bone Garden - A Novel

Norris set to work as well. Though it was a fresh burial and the dirt had not settled, the soil was soaked and heavy. After shoveling only a few minutes, he no longer felt the cold.

— Someone dies, people talk about it, — panted Jack. — Keep your ear to the ground and you'll know who's about to go in. They order coffins, buy flowers. — Jack flung aside another scoop and paused, wheezing. — Trick is not to let 'em know you're interested. They get suspicious, you got yourself complications. — He resumed digging, but at a slower pace. Norris did the lion's share, his shovel splashing deeper and deeper. Rain continued to fall, puddling in the hole, and Norris's trousers were caked with mud all the way up to his knees. Soon Jack stopped shoveling entirely and climbed out of the hole to squat at the edge, his wheezing now so loud that Norris glanced up, just to be certain the man was not on the verge of collapse. This was the only reason the old miser was willing to share even a penny of his profits, the only reason he ever brought along an assistant: He could no longer do it alone. He knew where the prizes were buried, but he needed a young man's back, a young man's muscles, to dig them up. And so Jack squatted and watched his assistant work, watched the hole deepen.

Norris's shovel hit wood.

— About time, — grunted Jack. Beneath the cover of the tarp, he lit the lantern, then grabbed his shovel and slid back into the hole. The men scraped away mud from the coffin, working so close together in the cramped space that Norris gagged on the odor of Jack's breath, foul with the stench of tobacco and rotten teeth. Even this corpse, he thought, could not smell so putrid. Bit by bit, they cleared away the mud, revealing the head end of the coffin.

Jack slipped two iron hooks under the lid and handed one of the ropes to Norris. They climbed out of the hole and together pulled against the lid, both of them grunting and straining as nails squealed and wood groaned. The lid suddenly splintered and the rope went slack, sending Norris sprawling backward.

— That's it! That's good enough! — said Jack. He lowered the lantern into the hole and looked down upon the coffin's occupant.

Through the shattered coffin lid, they could see that the corpse was a woman, her skin pale as tallow. Golden ringlets of hair framed her heart-shaped face, and resting upon her bodice was a nosegay of dried flowers, the petals disintegrating under the falling rain. So beautiful, thought Norris. An angel, too soon called to heaven.

— Fresh as can be, — said Jack with a happy cackle. He reached through the broken lid and slipped his hands under the girl's arms. She was light enough that he could drag her, unassisted, out of the coffin. But he was wheezing as he lifted her from the hole and laid her on the tarp. — Let's get her clothes off. —

Norris, suddenly feeling nauseated, didn't move.

— What? Don't want to touch a pretty girl? —

Norris shook his head. — She deserves better. —

— You didn't have no problem with the last one we dug up. —

— That was an old man. —

— And this is a girl. What's the difference? —

— You know there's a difference! —

— All I know is that she'll fetch the same price. And she'll be a lot pleasanter to strip. — He gave a soft cackle of anticipation and pulled out a knife. He had neither the time nor the patience to undo the buttons and hooks, so he simply slipped the blade under the neckline of the corpse's dress and rent apart the fabric, tearing the gown open down the front to reveal a gossamer-thin chemise beneath it. He went at his task with gusto, methodically ripping open the skirt, pulling off the tiny satin slippers. Norris could only watch, appalled by the violation of this young woman's modesty. And to be violated by a man such as Jack Burke! Yet he knew it must be done, for the law was unforgiving. To be caught with a stolen corpse was serious enough; to be caught in possession of a corpse's stolen property, even a fragment of her dress, was to risk far worse penalties. They must take nothing but the body itself. So Jack ruthlessly stripped away the clothes, removed the rings from her fingers, the satin ribbons from her hair. He tossed them all into the coffin, then glanced at Norris.

— You gonna help carry her back to the wagon or not? — he growled.

Norris stared down at the naked corpse, her skin white as alabaster. She was painfully thin, her body consumed by some long and unforgiving illness. She was beyond help now; perhaps some good could still come of her death.

— Who's out there? — a distant voice shouted. — Who trespasses? —

The challenge sent Norris diving onto the ground. At once Jack doused the lantern and whispered: — Get her out of sight! — Norris dragged the corpse back into the open grave, then both he and Jack scrambled into the hole as well. Pressed close to the corpse, Norris felt his heart pounding against her chilled skin. He did not dare move. He listened for the footsteps of the approaching watchman, but all he could hear was the beating rain, and the thump of his own pulse. The woman lay beneath him like a compliant lover. Had any other man known the touch of her skin, felt the curve of her bare breast? Or am I the first?

It was Jack who finally dared to raise his head and peer out of the hole. — I don't see him, — he whispered.

— He could still be watching. —

— No man in his right mind would be out in this weather any longer than he has to. —

— What does that say about us? —

— Tonight the rain's our friend. — Jack gave a grunt as he rose, straightening stiff joints. — Best we move her quick. —

They did not relight the lantern, but worked in the darkness. While Jack lifted the feet, Norris gripped the nude body beneath the arms, and he felt the corpse's damp hair drape across his arms as he lifted her shoulders from the hole. Whatever sweet fragrance had once blessed those blond ringlets was now masked by the faint odor of decay. Already her body had begun its inevitable journey to putrefaction, which soon would erode her beauty as skin disintegrated, as eyes sank to hollows. But for now the girl was still an angel, and he handled her gently as he lowered her onto the tarp.

The rain slowed to a drizzle as they quickly refilled the hole, shoveling mud back onto the now vacant coffin. To leave the grave open would only advertise that resurrectionists had been at work here, that the body of a beloved had been snatched. They took the time to cover their tracks rather than risk setting off an outraged inquiry. When the last of the earth had been replaced, they smoothed over the ground as best they could with their shovels, working only by the dim glow through the clouds. In time, the grass would grow in, a headstone would be planted, and loved ones would continue to lay flowers on a grave where no one slept.

They wrapped the corpse in the tarp, and Norris carried her in his arms like a groom bearing his new bride across the threshold. She was light, so pitifully light, and it took no effort at all to bring her across the wet grass, past the gravestones of those who had passed on before her. Gently he set her on the cart. Jack carelessly tossed the shovels beside her.

She was treated with no greater care than the tools rattling next to her, her corpse jolted like mean cargo as they rode through an icy drizzle back to town. Norris found no reason to exchange words with Jack, so he kept his silence, longing only for the night to be over so he could part ways with this repellent man. As they neared the city, they shared the road with other carts and carriages, other drivers who would wave and occasionally call out greetings of shared misery. Not a night to be out, eh? How'd we get so lucky? It'll be sleet by morning! Jack cheerily returned the greetings, betraying not a hint of anxiety about the forbidden load he was hauling.