Free Gatekeeper by Debra Glass

nausea. Tears mingled with rain and ran freely down her cheeks. Theo pulled her back as the rescue team went to work.
    It seemed an eternity as the men shoveled earth out of the grave to free Amy.
    Jillian tore her gaze away from them and hugged her arms to dispel her shaking. She sank to the ground and pressed her cheek against a chilly tombstone. She closed her ears to the sounds of the men and machinery and retreated to the silence within, praying, begging and bargaining with the power of the Universe to let her sister be alive when they opened that grave.
    And then she heard the sound of metal hitting wood.
    An awful eternity passed before the box was cleared enough to open. A raingear-covered officer lifted the top. Jillian dared to look inside but her view was impeded by a throng of paramedics.
    Jillian’s heart lodged in her throat.
    “She’s alive!” one yelled.
    Jillian’s heart soared. She leapt to her feet. Her trembling fingers came to her lips and she bit back a sob. She’d found her! She’d found Amy! Tears of joy streamed unchecked down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her wet nose on the sleeve of her Chanel sweater.
    One of the officers shouted to the paramedics, “Bring the stretcher. Let’s get her out of here.”
    Amy was unconscious, her face covered with dirt and grime, her hair in a tangled wet mass. Somehow, she’d freed her hands from the tape and ripped the piece off her mouth. But she was alive. Alive.
    Jillian rushed across the muddy ground to the stretcher where the mask of a handheld oxygen tank was being placed over Amy’s nose and mouth. Tenderly, she brushed Amy’s matted hair off her forehead and helped the paramedics tuck a dark gray blanket around her. “Hey sis,” she said under her breath.
    Amy’s eyes fluttered open and she gave Jillian’s hand a weak squeeze before she slipped into unconsciousness again.
    “Think this little fella might bring her around?” Lynn Bowers moved to the other side of the stretcher. Boo was in her arms.
    When Boo saw Amy, the dog squirmed and twisted until Lynn held it down to Amy’s face. Boo whimpered and licked her excitedly.
    Something sparked inside Jillian she couldn’t explain—some compulsion to take Boo. After all, she was the one who had found Amy. She was the one who’d brought Boo. She reached across and took the dog from Lynn. She held her, clinging and rubbing Boo’s head and ears. Amy was safe now. She was safe.
    But the would-be killer was still out there.
    Jillian shuddered as her gaze scanned the cemetery.
    “Hey y’all, check this out.”
    Instinctively, she turned toward the sound of the voice and looked into the grave where one of the officers had opened the coffin that lay beneath the box Amy had been in—Benton Smith’s coffin.
    Crumbling bones lay amidst the remnants of a gray uniform. The same frock coat, the same gilt buttons, the same three stars on the collar.
    Jillian’s knees went weak. Bile rose in her throat.
    Standing at the top of the grave was the man himself, unseen by the others. He stared bleakly at the casket and then lifted his gaze to hers. Briefly, his regard moved to Lynn. Jillian’s followed. Lynn flashed a wide, red-lipped smile. “Amy’s going to be all right, now. You did a great job finding her.”
    Jillian nodded and looked back toward the grave but Benton was gone. A shiver traveled up her spine. The sight of the skeleton in the grave left her with no doubt the man who had touched her, who had protected her, who had helped her find her sister, was dead and had been for nearly a hundred and fifty years.
    A dark thought intruded into her mind.
    How had the person who put Amy in that grave known about her association with Benton Smith?
    * * * * *
     
    Jillian dozed in the hospital recliner, her fingers entwined with Amy’s. A curious mixture of exhaustion and relief left her feeling heavy and stunned, but strangely, not tired. It was almost as if she’d been in a wreck.
    Amy had