Gary nodded, and then they left the room, presumably in search of burlap bags and God only knew what else.

Paralyzed as she lay on the floor, Sarah tried desperately to think of a way out, a way to at least leave a clue for anyone who came looking for her. A way to warn Caleb and save his life, even if it were at the expense of her own.

She couldn’t move or speak, but she could still see.

And what she saw was a man in nineteenth-century clothes.

It was Cato, and when he hunkered down next to her and swept his plumed hat from his head, he looked at her with deep sorrow in his eyes.

Help me, Sarah thought.

The floor was still coated in plaster dust. If she could just move a finger, she could write a message, but though she tried, her muscles remained stubbornly paralyzed.

Help me, she pleaded to the apparition again.

Somehow he understood, and though it seemed to be difficult for him, he reached for her hand and started to write. She tried to think, but the world was beginning to fade. She heard Gary and Caroline come back in, saw them reenter the room carrying huge burlap bags that had once held cement. She could still see the ghost as he followed while she was dragged across the floor.

No, stay here, she ordered him silently. You have to lead Caleb to me.

But she knew he was still with her, even as she was tied into the bag and tossed into the back of Gary’s work truck.

“There’s only one word for that woman, no matter how sweet as pie she acts!” Cary exploded. “She was at the bar that night, too, sneaking around and watching her friend.”

“Cary…are you saying that Caroline Roth was at the bar the night Renee Otten was attacked?”

“She was lurking in the back, but yeah, I saw her. Just like I’ve seen her with that guy who’s fixing up Sarah’s house,” Cary said.

He was off his bar stool before she’d even finished speaking.

He called the museum as he ran, but the college kid who answered told him that the only docent there was Barry Travis.

He tried Sarah’s home phone and got the machine, then her cell, which only rang and rang before going to voice mail.

He forgot all about his car and ran all the way to her house. The door was open when he tried the knob, sending a chill coursing through him. “Sarah!”

There was no answer. He checked out the downstairs, and when he reached the kitchen, he saw her purse and phone lying in the counter. He ran down into the basement, but it was empty, then raced up the stairs and through the bedrooms.

He tried the attic.

He hurtled down the stairs again, then stopped short, staring, sure he was dreaming.

But he wasn’t.

A host of people were standing in the foyer as if they’d been waiting for him forever, their clothing elegant and their eyes sad.

One woman stepped forward. She was extremely beautiful, with translucent blue eyes, and she looked at him sympathetically as she reached for him. And even though he could see through her, he felt her gentle touch on his face as she directed his attention to the ladies’ parlor.

He walked closer and saw drag marks through the plaster dust.

And then…

He leaned down…and examined a series of smudges, realizing that they spelled out words.

rebel cemetery gun kill you

He stood and raced for his car, his phone already to his ear.

Sarah slowly came to. She was lying in a cemetery, and as soon as she looked around, she knew which one. It was a very old one and had served the outlying farms. Rebel soldiers were buried here, along with Spanish homesteaders and British immigrants. There was even a mound marking the final resting place of some of the Yankees who had died at the battle of Olustee.

She was lying on an old stone sarcophagus, and she was vaguely aware of voices droning in the background. She tested her muscles and realized that she could move—just a little bit, but at least she was no longer totally paralyzed.

She managed to turn her head toward the voices and blinked, sure she must be hallucinating, then realizing that this was all too real. She saw two figures in hooded capes, one holding a massive bowl, the other a huge curved knife with elaborate engraving along the blade.

The words…they were chanting were a mixture of English, French and something else she didn’t recognize. Maybe Spanish. Maybe Creole.

“For blood is life!” one of them cried as they lifted the bowl and knife toward the sky.

Where was Renee? she wondered. Had they already killed her?

Suddenly one of the figures moved closer and loomed over her. From the size, she realized it was Gary.

“Let’s do it,” Caroline said impatiently.

“No. Not yet. I want to play with her,” Gary said, tossing back his hood as he leaned down, staring at Sarah in fascination. He smiled cruelly. “Her eyes are open. She sees me. Or maybe a dragon. Or a monster. Maybe a giant wolf.”

“Gary, get away from her.”

Gary flashed Caroline an angry look. “I get to play with the girls first, because I am the god. That’s what it says in the book.”

“Not her,” Caroline insisted.

“Especially her,” Gary said. “I love her. I’ve always loved her. But she never loved me. Never.”

“Get away from her, Gary. We have to hurry. What’s the matter with you? She has to die, and we have to be ready when Caleb gets here—we have to kill him and then mess me up so it looks like he tried to kill me, too. Get smart, Gary, come on,” Caroline urged.

“Shut up! Give me a minute.”

He touched Sarah’s face, and she tried not to twitch. She couldn’t let him know that she was starting to be able to move, because she needed the element of surprise.

She might have only one chance of saving herself.

Caleb drew his car up in the shelter of the trees outside the cemetery wall and killed the motor. He got out and scaled the wall, dropping silently to the ground and moving carefully between the old headstones until he could see them.

Gary was bending down over a weathered sarcophagus, with a knife in his hand as he stared intently at Sarah.

Or Sarah’s body.

No.

Caroline was standing beneath a tree.

Where was Renee?

He looked around and he saw a burlap bag bulging with…

Renee’s body. Dead or alive.

He held still for a long moment, watching, judging his distance. Wondering how far behind him the police cars were.

Then, to his amazement, he saw…himself. No, not himself. Cato. Running toward Gary and Caroline.

“It’s him!” Caroline shrieked. “Shoot him, Gary! Shoot him!”

Gary straightened, dropping the knife as he pulled a gun from under his robe and started to fire. His aim was good.

But there was no way to shoot a ghost.

Caleb counted the shots, then leapt to his feet when he reached six and made a beeline toward the action. Gary took aim again. At him.

He drew his own weapon as Caroline let out a shriek of pure fury and went racing toward Sarah, grabbing the knife off the ground as she ran.

Caleb’s shot took Gary down. He had aimed to kill.

And he did.

But now Caroline was on top of Sarah, knife raised. Suddenly Sarah lashed out with her legs, catching Caroline in the chest.

Caroline flew backward, slammed into a tall headstone, then fell forward again.

Right on the knife she had meant to use on Sarah.

A blood sacrifice.

It was days before everything began to untangle and the full truth came out. The police reached the cemetery moments after Caroline’s death, leading to hours of interrogation for Sarah and Caleb, while Renee, who this time didn’t regain consciousness for hours, made her second trip to the hospital in twenty-four hours.

At the station, Jamison had the grace to apologize and then fell silent. Then there was the process of trying to understand what had triggered Caroline’s insanity, even as Sarah, stunned, grieved for the loss of her best friend, a friend she now realized she had never really known.