There was probably an ordinance against putting a dead reptile, uncovered, unsecured, in a trash can. But just screw that, she decided.

She'd done all she was doing.

She'd call the waste management company. She'd bribe the trashman. She'd offer him sexual favors.

She backed away from the trash can. Her legs carried her as far as the steps of the back veranda, where she just let herself drop. Damn cat. She was going to find out whose damn cat was running loose, killing things and leaving their corpses on her property.

Though where some cat had flushed out a snake that size in the city of Savannah, she couldn't say. No, it was some idiot kid, that's what it was. Johnnie Porter or his ilk.

No longer in the mood for iced tea or girl talk, she rose, intending to go up and straight to bed.

She heard the whistling when she reached the door, and this time the chill arrowed straight to her belly.

He about busted a gut! He couldn't think of the last time anything had struck him so funny, until actual tears were streaming from his eyes. He'd had to wipe them more than once to keep his vision clear through the long night-vision lens of the camera.

Goddamn, the way she'd jumped! Had to damn near piss herself.

His ribs ached from keeping the laughter down to a snickering, bodyshaking snort instead of a belly-busting guffaw.

He'd expected her to take a wild leap over it, but hell, had to say she was made of sterner stuff. It only made it funnier and more interesting.

It had been a piece of good luck to come across that black snake, and to realize after giving its head a good solid smash with a shovel that he could use it. But, he could admit now, he hadn't known it would tickle him so to watch her deal with it.

He bet she didn't sleep half the night, and when she did, she'd dream of snakes.

Him? He was going home to print out the pictures, have himself another laugh. Then he was going to sleep like a baby.

She didn't sleep well. And there were enough scenarios and possibilities running around in her head that she gave it up shortly after dawn and called Carter.

When Josie answered, Phoebe launched into apologies, got a grunt in return. Then Carter's sleepy voice came on the line.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should've waited until a decent hour to call."

"Too late."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I need you to come over here and look at something for me."

"What is it? A mermaid? A three-headed fish? The new Jaguar you bought me out of sisterly love and devotion? Because otherwise? Zzzzzzz."

"Don't you make snoring noises at me, Carter. I need you to get your ass out of that bed, put on some clothes and come over here. Right now. I don't want to wake up anyone else in the house, so you come around by the courtyard, you hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Bossy and bitchy. There better be coffee."

He'd come. He'd grumble about it but he'd come. So she dressed quickly then tiptoed down to make coffee. She had two mugs in hand when she slipped outside to wait for him.

There'd been two thunderstorms in the night-she'd heard them both. The stones in the courtyard were still wet from the rain that had pounded down in those quick and violent intervals. There was a haze in the air, the pretty kind that would burn off within an hour or two and leave everything sparkling.

She sipped her coffee and watched drops of water drip, drip from the burgundy leaves of the little weeping peach Ava had planted the year before.

She heard Carter's feet on the path to the gate, and was opening the heavy cast iron before he reached it.

His hair was sleep-tossed, his eyes still heavy. He wore sweats and a Savannah U T-shirt with a pair of ancient running shoes. A knight in the shiniest of armor couldn't have looked better to her.

He scowled, grabbed the coffee. "Where's the damn body?" he demanded. "In the trash can."

He choked on his first swallow of coffee. "What?"

"That one there." She pointed, keeping her distance.

"You kill somebody, Phoebs? Want me to help you bury him out here in Ava's garden?"

She just pointed again. With a shrug, he yanked off the lid. The coffee sloshed over the rim of his mug as he jolted, and that gave her some satisfaction. But then he just reached right in, even as she gargled out a sound of disgust, and pulled the dead snake out.

"Cool."

"Oh please, do you have to-" She yelped, pinwheeled back as he turned, grinning, to wag the snake at her. "Stop that! Damn it, Carter."

"Irresistible. Damn big guy to come sliding down Jones Street and into Ava's garden."

"I didn't find it in the garden. Would you stop playing with that thing? I found it on the front steps, already dead."

"Huh." He turned the snake's head around as if to converse with it. "What were doing there, big guy?"

"I thought maybe a cat killed it. There was a dead rat in the courtyard not long ago. A cat… But it's so damn big, I started thinking that it might be hard for a cat to take on a snake that big. Or maybe not. But why the hell would this damn cat be leaving dead things around the house? So then I thought-"

"Only way a cat killed this big boy is if the cat could swing a twobyfour." He wiggled the head of the snake at Phoebe. "Cat might chew it up some, but it sure couldn't crush the head flat as a pancake."

"Yeah." She let out a breath. "Yeah, I thought it might be more something like that." She kicked at the box she'd brought out. "Would you please put that ugly dead thing in there, then back in the can? And don't you touch me or anything until you wash your hands."

He dumped it into the box. "You said you found it on the steps out front?"

"Yeah." He wasn't grinning now. A little more satisfaction, she decided. "I got home about eleven last night, and-"

"From where?"

"I was on a date, if you have to know everything."

"With the lottery guy."

"His name is Duncan, and yes. In any case, that thing was draped right over the steps. Which means someone put it there."

"Some dumbass kid."

"Johnnie, you know Johnnie Porter around the corner? He's top of my list for that."

"You want me to talk to him?"

"No, I'll do that. I couldn't bring myself to go into that can and look at the damn thing again up close."

"That's what brothers are for." He dumped the box, closed the lid, then turned to her with evil in his smile. "Poor little Phoebe."

"Don't you dare touch me with your dead-snake hands. I mean it."

"I just want to pat my sister, to give her comfort in her time of-"

"You put one finger on me, your balls'll be tickling your tonsils." Defensively, she put up her dukes. "You know I can take you."

"Haven't put that to the test for a while. I've been working out."

"Oh, come in and wash up. You get points for riding to the rescue, and at this hour."

She led the way in, then leaned on the counter while he washed his hands at the sink. "Carter, there's this other possibility running in my brain. The one where it wasn't some dumbass kid like Johnnie Porter around the corner."

He glanced at her. "You're thinking asshole instead of dumbass."

"That's right. Just nasty pranks, nothing life-threatening, but's't i l l… And there was this other nasty business," she said, thinking of the doll. "I'll be talking to Johnnie, but I've got this… uncomfortable sensa tion, we'll call it. So I was wondering if you'd mind walking by the house, maybe after classes, just for a while. You don't have to come in, I know how that is. You stop by, that's it for a couple hours. But if you could just detour by here when I'm not around, I'd be easier."

"You know I will. Honey, if you're really worried-"

"Uncomfortable sensation," she corrected. "Not yet up to really worried. I guess I'm remembering…"