sacrificesâchickens and goats, usually, although human body parts were also considered useful, especially by some offshoot groups. Grave robbers had absconded with fingers and toes and the like before.
Today in the office, Audrey had idly pointed out how the grave robbery had seemed to follow a pattern the first time, a pattern that circled the city, then came dead center back into it. And now it seemed that things were happening just the same way again.
Was that what had brought her here?
She had one contact left who no one knew about. Not the police, not anyone. His name was Willie Harper; he lived on the streets in downtown Miami, and though he didnât have a drug problem, he did like a good bottle of Scotch. Spencer had once been very unhappy about Willie, telling Danny that he was paying the man just to help him kill himself with his alcoholism. But it wasnât really that bad. Willie was a good sort. Danny paid him well, and before he drank any of it away, he bought food for all his friends, blankets, sometimes even a cheap hotel room for the night. But Willie liked living on the streets. He liked to make money, too. When heâd contacted Spencer, sheâd promised to keep paying him for any information he could give her that might help find Dannyâs killer.
Heâd called her that afternoonâwith the same observation that Audrey had made.
She exhaled, leaning against the edge of the small family mausoleum that sheltered her from the view of anyone who might have been driving along the twisting roads that led through the cemetery. The stone felt very cold, and she felt like an absolute idiot for being here. It wasnât as if she was carrying a gunâor as if she would know how to use one if she did. She had pepper spray in the carâDanny had always insisted she carry it, and he had shown her how to use it. But she hadnât thought to bring it with her; she wasnât planning on accosting anyone. She had just come to see what was going on, to make sure that if any grave robbers did come, they wouldnât touch Dannyâs grave or desecrate his tomb in any way.
She started to shiver.
This was nuts. What did she think she was going to do, if someone did show up? Was she going to yell at some ghoul in the middle of a dark cemetery and tell him to stop?
Especially when he might be her husbandâs murderer?
It was an old cemetery, filled with trees and foliage. She tried to tell herself that her car was parked relatively close by at the doughnut shop just across Eighth Street, that even though it was very late, the main streets were teeming with peopleâeven though the cemetery did seem unbelievably dark and still and silent, and far from civilization. In fact, there were probably a number of cops eating doughnuts right by her car. But then, that was at least half a mile away.
An owl let out a hoot, and a nearby tree rustled, and she nearly jumped into the mausoleum. She forced herself to remain still and stare toward the tree. Images of Dracula came to her mind. Creatures breaking out of their tombs. Maybe the human monsters from Night of the Living Dead. Werewolves, mummiesâ¦
But this wasnât Egypt, and there was no full moon. In fact, with the clouds, there was barely a moon at all. She felt like an idiot. And she deserved to. She shouldnât be here. A squirrel had rustled the treeâshe could see it now, even in the shadows, leaping from the ground to a monument, and then to another tree. No creatures from beyond the grave were going to come after her. In fact, sheâd gone through a period of mourning when sheâd lain awake at night just praying that Danny could come back as a ghost, in voice, in spiritâin anything. But Danny hadnât come back. It was just as her father had once told her, the dead were the least threatening people in the world.
No, it wasnât the dead she had to fear. It was the living.
The cloud broke
Today in the office, Audrey had idly pointed out how the grave robbery had seemed to follow a pattern the first time, a pattern that circled the city, then came dead center back into it. And now it seemed that things were happening just the same way again.
Was that what had brought her here?
She had one contact left who no one knew about. Not the police, not anyone. His name was Willie Harper; he lived on the streets in downtown Miami, and though he didnât have a drug problem, he did like a good bottle of Scotch. Spencer had once been very unhappy about Willie, telling Danny that he was paying the man just to help him kill himself with his alcoholism. But it wasnât really that bad. Willie was a good sort. Danny paid him well, and before he drank any of it away, he bought food for all his friends, blankets, sometimes even a cheap hotel room for the night. But Willie liked living on the streets. He liked to make money, too. When heâd contacted Spencer, sheâd promised to keep paying him for any information he could give her that might help find Dannyâs killer.
Heâd called her that afternoonâwith the same observation that Audrey had made.
She exhaled, leaning against the edge of the small family mausoleum that sheltered her from the view of anyone who might have been driving along the twisting roads that led through the cemetery. The stone felt very cold, and she felt like an absolute idiot for being here. It wasnât as if she was carrying a gunâor as if she would know how to use one if she did. She had pepper spray in the carâDanny had always insisted she carry it, and he had shown her how to use it. But she hadnât thought to bring it with her; she wasnât planning on accosting anyone. She had just come to see what was going on, to make sure that if any grave robbers did come, they wouldnât touch Dannyâs grave or desecrate his tomb in any way.
She started to shiver.
This was nuts. What did she think she was going to do, if someone did show up? Was she going to yell at some ghoul in the middle of a dark cemetery and tell him to stop?
Especially when he might be her husbandâs murderer?
It was an old cemetery, filled with trees and foliage. She tried to tell herself that her car was parked relatively close by at the doughnut shop just across Eighth Street, that even though it was very late, the main streets were teeming with peopleâeven though the cemetery did seem unbelievably dark and still and silent, and far from civilization. In fact, there were probably a number of cops eating doughnuts right by her car. But then, that was at least half a mile away.
An owl let out a hoot, and a nearby tree rustled, and she nearly jumped into the mausoleum. She forced herself to remain still and stare toward the tree. Images of Dracula came to her mind. Creatures breaking out of their tombs. Maybe the human monsters from Night of the Living Dead. Werewolves, mummiesâ¦
But this wasnât Egypt, and there was no full moon. In fact, with the clouds, there was barely a moon at all. She felt like an idiot. And she deserved to. She shouldnât be here. A squirrel had rustled the treeâshe could see it now, even in the shadows, leaping from the ground to a monument, and then to another tree. No creatures from beyond the grave were going to come after her. In fact, sheâd gone through a period of mourning when sheâd lain awake at night just praying that Danny could come back as a ghost, in voice, in spiritâin anything. But Danny hadnât come back. It was just as her father had once told her, the dead were the least threatening people in the world.
No, it wasnât the dead she had to fear. It was the living.
The cloud broke
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