Freak by Jennifer Hillier

check they’d run on the way over. Her burial had taken place only ten days earlier, so the ground remained soft and unsettled. Still, it was slow going, because the dirt had to be moved carefully. They didn’t know what they might find.
    On the other side of the cemetery, a small, plain tombstone marked Ethan Wolfe’s grave. Jerry had passed it on the way over, pausing only briefly to look down at the Tell-Tale Heart Killer’s name etched into the stone, just above the dates of his birth and death. It made him wonder again why it was in this cemetery, of all places, that the newest victim was hidden. Everything about this felt contrived. He couldn’t shake the feeling they were being set up.
    The full moon was a formless blob behind the clouds and the light cast strange shadows over the trees and tombstones. Heavenly Rest Cemetery was downright spooky at night. It was set high on a hill overlooking Seattle, and while the twinkling lights of the city below were pretty, the heavy mist made the cemetery feel eerie. He tried not to think about the decomposing bodies only a few feet beneath him, about the maggots and other little insects making their way through the rotting flesh, about the bones of the skeletons that would eventually remain. He shuddered, and it wasn’t from the cold.
    Jerry’s grandmother had died of cancer when he was ten years old. She’d lived with them in his family’s house, in a small room at the top of the stairs, and he was often entrusted to watch over her whenever his mother worked or was too tired. His responsibilities consisted of bringing his grandma her biscuits and juice, and sitting with her while she watched Jeopardy .
    He had loved his grandmother, and so at first, helping with her care had been fine. But as the months passed and she grew weaker, it became not so fine. Jerry had watched his grandmother deteriorate from a laughing, vibrant woman who could spank him just as easily as hug him, into a withered mess of skin and bone.
    And then there were the smells . The room she’d died in had smelled like her for weeks after her death—a sickly blend of stale breath, antibiotic ointments, and urine. Jerry hadn’t been able to set foot in her room for a long time because the smells always brought back powerful memories of her death.
    He had been present at her burial, laying the final white rose on the casket before it was lowered into the ground. And then later that night—and for weeks to come—he’d had nightmares about her being deep in the earth, her frail body slowly rottinginto nothing. Even though his mother had spent years trying to tell him that cemeteries were among the safest places you could be, and that God was always watching, Jerry had never felt comfortable being in places where people were laid to rest.
    To his left, a few feet away, stood a man who actually looked pleased to be here. Roger Aubrey, age fifty-five according to his DMV info, was the cemetery’s head caretaker. They’d knocked on his door on the way over, disrupting Aubrey’s date with his satellite dish and a bag of Cheetos. While they weren’t exhuming Doris Wheaton’s body and therefore did not require the permission of Wheaton’s family to dig up her grave, they did require the cooperation of the caretaker to determine which grave sites were fresh.
    Jerry ambled over to the man and smiled apologetically. “Sorry to have disrupted your evening, Mr. Aubrey. We appreciate your cooperation in locating the grave site, but you really don’t have to stick around. We’ll put everything back the way it was.”
    The man’s attention stayed focused on the diggers for a moment longer before turning to Jerry. “Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of not being here.” His voice was high-pitched and excited. “I’ve been caring for this cemetery for the past two years. It’s my job to make sure everything gets restored properly.”
    “Well, then, let me ask you a question.” Jerry tucked his hands deeper