Catacomb by Madeleine Roux Read Free Book Online

Maisie Moore was the editor-in-chief until 1995. No mention of your parents, but the paper was based in Metairie. That’s not far from New Orleans. Maybe Maisie still lives in the area.”
    “That’s brilliant,” Abby said. She handed the letters back to Dan carefully, mindful of their delicate state. “She knew your parents, Dan. We can look her up when we get to town.”
    “Don’t get my hopes up.” But they were already up. What if Maisie Moore had contact information on file for his parents? After all these years of not knowing, could finding them be as easy as that?



“A re you sure it’s okay?”
    “Honestly, Abby, it’s fine. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to seeing this cemetery. I’m not going to ruin it for you.”
    And anyway, they were already parked on a narrow street nearby. Dan could hardly remember the drive. He was functioning in the strictest sense of the word, but even simple things like fastening his seat belt had taken extraordinary effort. When they’d made a quick stop for gas, Jordan had insisted on paying the bill, since Dan couldn’t find his wallet.
    Abby opened his car door, and he tumbled out onto the sidewalk, blinking up at the overcast sky as if he had just woken from a long, restless sleep. The enormous cemetery was protected by a spindly wrought-iron gate. He and Jordan followed Abby down the sidewalk to the entrance, passing below a sloped sign with Magnolia Cemetery worked into the metal.
    Jordan shuddered. “I hate cemeteries. I never feel like I should be in one, you know? Like unless you are literally a dead person or there to bring flowers, you should stay far away.”
    “Yeah, Abby might owe us a round of milk shakes later.”
    She’d been right about the architecture, though—gorgeous, sprawling monuments that could house a person or a smallfamily of pets popped up every few feet along the path. The three of them wandered from the main walkway and onto the short-cropped lawn. Dan was careful not to tread even close to any of the flat gravestones sinking into the ground.
    “Are you sure we’re just browsing? You seem like a woman on a mission,” Jordan called to Abby, who strode ahead confidently.
    “Randy gave me some directions.”
    “Who?” Jordan cried.
    “Randy. Randy, our waitress? Right, you weren’t paying attention. She told me about some monuments to check out. I jotted down the directions. Just follow me.”
    Neither of them protested.
    “So this project of yours,” Dan said, making conversation to fill the heavy, empty air of the cemetery. “Is this something you’re going to show to your new professors or what?”
    She shrugged, chewing on her lower lip as they picked their way around the gravestones. “Actually, it’s . . . I’ve just been thinking. A lot. Maybe too much.” With a sigh, she paused to snap a few pictures of trees towering above them. “There’s been so much pressure to pick a school and do the right thing, the expected thing, and I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore.”
    “I guess your dad was pretty tough on you about applications,” Dan said.
    “Feral, I think, is the better word.” She laughed, bitterly. “This is what I like,” she said, gesturing to the camera and then the open air. “I’m just not sure spending a whole crapload of money to get an art degree is the smartest choice. Plenty of artists do fine without it. And I’m guaranteed to be poor right after graduating anyway, so why make myself even poorer? It’snot like I want to get a degree to teach art, I want to be living it.”
    “So what are you saying?”
    “I’m saying I at least want to take a year off.” She might have started hesitantly, but now she spoke with conviction. “At first, my parents said they wouldn’t support me if I didn’t go to college, but then finally they said if I could show them how I would use the year, they’d consider it. And who knows, maybe if this project is good enough, I can get