Southern Comfort by Amie Louellen Read Free Book Online

a better view.
    Mistake. The closer she got to Newland Tran the more he was like a magnet, pulling her in. He was scruffy and rough looking, his hair a little too long and his clothes a little too disheveled, but he smelled good. Like manly aftershave and fabric softener. On the outside he might appear rough around the edges, but he took care of himself. She tried not to breathe in that smell and instead focused on the spot where he pointed.
    A mound of dirt lurked on the other side of the oak tree just barely inside the iron fence. It was so far off to one side and so far to the back of the lot, that she would have missed it had he not pointed it out to her.
    “It looks like … ” She didn’t want to say the words. She swallowed hard. “It looks like a new grave.”
    “I thought you said the cemetery has been closed for decades.”
    Natalie nodded. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been closed. Aubie probably can. He’s something of a historian for the town. Him and Gerald.”
    Newland turned toward her. “Gerald? Who’s that?”
    The cool night air stung her heated cheeks. “Gerald Davenport. He’s my fiancé. Well, almost. I mean, boyfriend. He’s my boyfriend.”
    Newland’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And why would he know something about that grave or the cemetery?”
    “He’s part of the historical society here in town. In fact, he’s the chairman of the society.”
    “I see.”
    “Yes.” Natalie started rambling, a sure sign that she was nervous. “You see, Aunt Bitty’s house is not part of the historical tour, though it should be. I’ve been trying to get it on the national historic registry for years. That’s how I met Gerald.” As much as she tried to stem the flow of words, they just kept coming. “He’s the chairman of the local historical society, and I’ve been trying to engage his help to get the national organization interested in Aunt Bitty’s house. It was built long before the war. I’m sure she told you.” She stopped to take a breath.
    “She did mention something to that fact,” Newland said. “But if her house was built so long ago, why isn’t it on the historic registry already?”
    “It was built by a Northern sympathizer.” She shrugged. “Some wounds take a long time to heal.”
    Natalie looked around, the wind kicking up and blowing her hair. At least it was pulled back and out of her face. She was still able to see anything if it was coming. Not that there was. Because she didn’t believe in ghosts. “You want to head back to the house?”
    “I’d like to look at this big mound of dirt first.”
    “Of course you would.” Natalie nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait for you here.”
    He nodded and started off toward the oak tree.
    Natalie hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten. The only reason she could see Newland was because he had taken out his cell phone and was using his flashlight app to lead the way. Where she was standing, it was totally dark. And her cell phone was all the way back at the house.
    She could barely see two feet in front of her own face. Well, two feet and then Newland.
    The wind brushed her again and set Natalie into action. “Hold up, Newland. I’m coming. You’re not going to discover all this great evidence without me.”
    She thought she heard him chuckle, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she started off toward the flashlight, thankful that she had put on walking shoes before she had come out here. Any of her normal footwear would be sinking into the soft ground. The thought made her shudder.
    She finally drew even with Newland. He was standing near a mound of dirt half covered with a black tarp.
    “Where do you suppose the dirt came from?” Newland shined his flashlight around, but there was no new digging near any of the graves close to them, though one of them looked to be a little bit deeper than the others. Still, it had a headstone, which as far she was concerned meant somebody was buried there and it was completely