The Sinner by Amanda Stevens

nothing more than a cemetery restorer who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
    â€œIt does seem a loose connection,” he agreed. “But the skull in that grave was certainly resurrected.”
    â€œAnd what do you make of that ?” I asked.
    He shrugged. “I agree with Rushing. The grave was exhumed, the skull removed after decomposition and the remains wrapped and reburied.”
    â€œBut why?”
    â€œMaybe someone wanted a trophy.”
    I glanced at him sharply. “Trophies are usually associated with serial killers, aren’t they? Is that what you think you’re dealing with here? Do you think the circle is his burial ground?”
    â€œSerial killer in the way that you mean is a reach. But like I said, someone’s obviously been using that place for decades. As to the purpose...” He trailed off again on the same question, as if reluctant to take the speculation any further. “For now, let’s concentrate on the victim. The woman in the cage. How did you know to look at her arm when you viewed the body?”
    Was that a note of suspicion I heard in his voice? “When I first came upon the grave, I glimpsed part of the tattoo on her wrist through the cage.”
    He nodded. “And the tattoo itself— memento mori . That phrase means something to you, doesn’t it? I saw your face as you translated.”
    â€œIt doesn’t mean anything to me personally, but I was startled to find such a message on the arm of a woman who had been buried alive. Weren’t you?”
    He didn’t answer. “What else can you tell me about that phrase?”
    â€œI’m hardly an expert, except perhaps when it comes to cemetery memento mori , but I suppose it can best be described as a reflection on mortality.”
    â€œRemember to die.” He repeated the words to himself as if he were trying to work something out.
    â€œSometimes translated as ‘remember death’ or ‘remember that you must die.’” I pushed back the damp tendrils at my temples. “ Memento mori was both a philosophy and an art movement that sprang up in Europe around the time of the Black Death. Poems were written about the fleeting nature of earthly pursuits and portraits were often painted with the subject holding a human skull.”
    We exchanged a glance and I resisted the urge to look over my shoulder. We were approaching day’s end and the elongated shadows that fell across our path seemed menacing.
    â€œGo on,” he said.
    â€œThe depictions can seem a little gruesome nowadays, but in the context of the time, it was a reminder that life on earth is just the beginning of our journey and that one’s thoughts and deeds are best focused on the afterlife. As you might imagine, death images were especially prevalent in religious-themed art. Other than museums and cathedrals, the most common places to find examples in this country are old churchyards, particularly the Puritan cemeteries on the Eastern seaboard. The symbols etched into seventeenth-century gravestones—death’s-heads, skeletons in coffins, scythes, winged hourglasses—are all examples of memento mori art. As is the skull tattoo on the back of your hand.”
    â€œAnd here I thought it was just a memento of an unfortunate night in Amsterdam.” Kendrick kept his gaze focused straight ahead, but a smile flashed so brief I almost didn’t catch it. The teasing glimpse made me wonder why he didn’t do it more often. That smile made him seem more approachable. More human.
    But maybe that wasn’t such a good thing.
    I studied his profile from the corner of my eye. “You mentioned earlier that you’d been to the Czech Republic. An example of memento mori on a very grand scale is the Sedlec Ossuary.”
    â€œThe Church of Bones,” he said. “I’ve been there.”
    Somehow I wasn’t surprised. “I’ve always wanted to