"Haven't you ever done something that you know is wrong, but you did it for the right reason?" she asked.

Oh, yeah.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Clouds scudded across the moon, dropping a cloak of darkness over the cemetery. Only a twinkling of stars lit the night sky. A breeze stirred the new buds on the deciduous trees and whispered in the tall evergreens as Jack boosted her over the six-foot-high chain-link fence that surrounded the silent graveyard.

Karen dropped onto the gra.s.s on the other side with a soft thud, then stood back as he tossed over the bag of tools. She couldn't help shivering at the sight of all the gravestones that glowed white as skeletons even in the darkness.

She watched Jack scale the fence and drop effortlessly beside her. He looked at her, his gaze questioning. It wasn't too late to turn back.

She shook her head slowly and glanced past him to the rows and rows of headstones. The mere thought of digging up the grave filled her with trepidation, but she believed in her heart that the answer to Liz's death was in this cemetery, buried in that baby's grave.

Just thinking about the baby unnerved her. What if she was wrong? What if the baby really had died and Vandermullen was telling the truth?

No. He'd lied about Liz's fear of hospitals. He could have lied about the baby. Liz wouldn't have been looking for her child unless she believed Joanna Kay was alive.

Karen and Jack stood in silence for a long moment. As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she could make out the long line of railroad cars just across the road. On the other side of the cemetery, car lights flashed high on the hillside where Interstate 90 cut across the state.

IN THOSE FEW MOMENTS, Jack had time to contemplate the strange turn his life had taken since meeting his Girl Next Door. The irony of it didn't escape him.

His job was in serious jeopardy, he'd just interviewed a suspect in a case he wasn't supposed to be near, he'd lied about getting married and now he was standing in the cemetery in the middle of the night with a shovel.

He wondered if Karen had any idea what kind of effect she had on men. Or if he was just the lucky one.

Of course he'd argued that grave digging was illegal. That the thing to do was wait and try to get a court order to have the body exhumed. That grave robbing probably wouldn't be good for her after her accident.

But even as he'd offered excellent arguments, he could see he wasn't making a dent in her reasoning.

"You left out that it is probably morally wrong and will make for very bad karma," she said when he'd finished, obviously not in the least dissuaded.

"Follow me," Jack whispered and picked up the tool bag. Denny had said the grave was on Hope, one of the narrow roads that wove through the dark cemetery.

Jack led the way through the maze of white headstones, expanses of dark gra.s.s and winding roads with names like Charity. Faith. And finally, Hope.

Following Denny's directions, he moved through the graves with Karen close behind. The moon broke free of the clouds. He stopped to get his bearings, feeling the steady thump of his heart inside his chest. G.o.d, he didn't want to do this.

But as he looked over at Karen he knew she was going to do it-with or without his help. And one way or another this would end any more speculation about why Liz Jones Vandermullen had come back to Missoula. And for him, it would answer a lot of questions about Liz herself.

Jack knew that if Liz really had been searching for her daughter, it was possible that's what had gotten her killed. It would definitely change Jack's approach to finding her killer-and keeping Karen safe.

But if Liz and Denny's daughter was in this small grave... Well, then he'd have to accept that Dr. Carl Vandermullen was telling the truth and that Liz had been killed by some stranger she'd picked up in the personals column.

As Jack neared the spot where Denny had said he'd find Joanna Kay Vandermullen's grave, he saw something even more unnerving. A shovel. It lay next to a gravestone ahead of them. It looked as if there were fresh dirt on the shovel.

As he and Karen stepped closer, Jack saw that someone had been digging up one of the graves. He knew before the moon cast its eerie light on the stone that it was Joanna Kay's grave.

The headstone was small and simple. Just the baby's name and date of birth and death. Jack felt a sliver of ice wedge itself in his chest. Someone else wanted to see what was buried here.

He glanced around, seeing no one, hearing nothing but silence. Not even a breeze whispered through the cemetery. Not even the rustle of a squirrel or a dried leaf. Nothing moved.

Jack looked over at Karen. She seemed paler in the moonlight, her freckles in stark contrast, her eyes wide and fearful. But her look was determined, even more convinced that they were on to something. It certainly seemed she was right.

He put down the bag of tools and pulled out a shovel. Slowly he began to dig where the last grave robber had left off.

THE TIME Pa.s.sED in a blur of moonlight and darkness. Earth spilled from Karen's shovel in hypnotic repet.i.tion. They hadn't spoken, just worked, neither wanting to talk about what they were doing or why. She suspected, he feared, like her, they would find a small body in the grave. She didn't want to think what that would do to Denny. He wanted so desperately to believe his daughter was alive. in a blur of moonlight and darkness. Earth spilled from Karen's shovel in hypnotic repet.i.tion. They hadn't spoken, just worked, neither wanting to talk about what they were doing or why. She suspected, he feared, like her, they would find a small body in the grave. She didn't want to think what that would do to Denny. He wanted so desperately to believe his daughter was alive.

She'd tried to lose herself in the labor, avoiding thoughts of what they were digging up. Jack had argued she shouldn't shovel, but she'd won him over by a.s.suring him she needed something to do.

She tried not to think at all, but thoughts scudded by like the clouds overhead. Mostly she thought of Jack, her heart welling with her love for him. Funny, but while she couldn't remember falling in love, she knew she had, and obviously at first sight. Why else would she have agreed to marry him the way she had?

How odd to fall so desperately in love when so much was going on in her life. For so long, she'd lived a rather uneventful life. Now, according to Jack, not only had she fallen in love and gotten married, she'd become a witness in a murder case, been almost killed in a hit-and-run and was now helping solve a sixteen-year-old mystery.

This was so unlike her. She hardly recognized herself. But, she had to admit, she was happier than she'd ever been. And Jack Adams was the reason. Being with him was definitely exciting in more ways than one.

Jack struck something with his shovel. He froze, his gaze coming to her.

She held her breath as he began to clear the dirt from around the small coffin so he could get the crowbar under the lid. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer, then opened them as she heard the sharp crack of the seal breaking.

"Hand me the flashlight," Jack whispered.

She did and watched the sphere of gold light fall across the tiny coffin. Jack seemed to brace himself, his gaze touching hers gently, then he lifted the lid slowly and shone the light inside.

He let out a curse.

She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. At first all she saw was a baby dressed in white. Then the light fell on the baby's face and she realized it was nothing more than a doll.

She felt tears rush to her eyes, unable to hold them back. No baby. Joanna Kay Vandermullen wasn't here. She bit her lip to hold back the avalanche of emotion as she looked down at Jack. Her heart surged with hope that the girl was alive.

He stood for a long moment, the flashlight hanging from his fingertips, his arm at his side, the circle of light glowing on the bottom of the grave. He didn't seem ready to climb from the hole. She wondered if he felt as sick inside as she did. He looked weak with relief and disgust. Someone had buried a doll in a baby's coffin. Someone had pretended that Joanna Kay had died at birth.

That someone had to be Dr. and Mrs. Carl Vandermullen. Did that mean that Liz had had been searching for her baby? Is that what had gotten her killed? Had she found the mystery man she'd advertised for? been searching for her baby? Is that what had gotten her killed? Had she found the mystery man she'd advertised for?

Or was Joanna Kay dead-just not buried here?

Jack clicked off the flashlight and climbed out of the hole. The moon disappeared behind a cloud, dropping a veil of darkness over them. Only a little light seemed to leak out over the mountains to the east.

They had to get out of here. Before the groundskeeper caught them. They had to tell Denny what they'd found. Joanna Kay could be alive.

Jack stuffed the tools into the bag. He picked up the bag then froze, his body alert. Karen heard it, too. The unmistakable sound of a footfall. The faint rustle of clothing. Just yards away, the clink of something brushing against one of the tombstones. Someone was out there. Hiding. Watching them.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jack motioned for Karen to be silent although he could tell by the way she'd tensed next to him that she'd heard it, too, and was also trying to pinpoint where the noise had come from.

Could it be the groundskeeper getting an early start? Not likely. It was still dark outside. And the movement had been too...furtive. Too close.

He heard it again. The sound of clothing rustling as if someone had just shifted into a different position and it was close. Very close.

He heard a soft click and dropped the bag as he lunged to pull Karen down behind one of the larger gravestones.

The shot whizzed past, the bullet striking a tombstone behind them, sending up a spray of granite. The shooter had a gun with a silencer and wasn't a bad shot.

Jack pulled Denny's pistol from its holster. "Stay down," he ordered.

Karen nodded, her eyes wide with fear, her expression one of shock. Fortunately, Jack thought, she couldn't remember the other times someone had tried to kill her. Unfortunately, he could.

He stared at her for a moment, then impulsively bent down to plant a kiss on her lips. She smiled and squeezed his knee, trust and love glowing in her gaze.

He glanced around, looking for a safe place for her. The hole they'd just dug loomed dark and deep. He motioned for Karen to slip back into the open grave. She didn't look ecstatic about the idea but she quickly complied without question.

A dream wife, he thought crazily, as he handed her the flashlight.

With Karen safe in the hole for the moment, he moved stealthily toward the direction he'd first heard the sound, his pistol drawn. Another shot zipped past with a hum, the bullet boring into a tree trunk behind him.

He rushed forward, using the gravestones for cover as he charged in the direction of the shot, determined to catch the killer, to stop him once and for all.

THE MOON FLASHED from behind the clouds, casting an eerie gray light over the cemetery. Down in the hole, the gray light only cast a long cold shadow. from behind the clouds, casting an eerie gray light over the cemetery. Down in the hole, the gray light only cast a long cold shadow.

Karen crouched, her body pressed against the damp earth, listening for Jack's return, fighting fear for her husband. She kept telling herself he was a cop. He knew what he was doing. He'd be all right.

She looked down at the coffin at her feet, fighting her own fears. The darkness, the cold earth, the moon eclipsed by the clouds overhead and that terrible feeling of helplessness. She shivered and tried to think of anything else but her fears.

She huddled in the dark of the grave and thought of Jack. What an odd way to spend a honeymoon. She hadn't even gotten to make love to her husband yet. And now they might both be going to jail. If they lived that long.

He had to come back to her. She couldn't bear the thought of losing him when she'd just found him.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the hole, she realized that Jack had left the casket open. She could see the doll. She couldn't imagine someone putting a doll into the small box to be sealed and burying it, complete with headstone. It seemed so...sick.

She looked up at the clouds moving like waves overhead and listened for the sound of her husband returning. But she heard nothing down in the hole. Nothing but the frantic drumming of her pulse, her heart thundering in her chest.

Her gaze fell again on the coffin and the doll inside. The doll's eyes stared out, blank, but...familiar. She knelt down to inspect it more closely.

Pretty Patsy Wetsy, she thought with a start. She'd had a doll just like it.

Carefully, she reached in and started to lift the doll out, then jerked back with a m.u.f.fled cry as she saw something that froze her blood.

JACK LET HIS EYES adjust to the moonlight. Exhaustion pulled at him. Weary from everything he'd learned, sick from all that he still didn't know or understand, he crouched behind a tombstone and waited for the killer to make his move. He didn't have to wait long. adjust to the moonlight. Exhaustion pulled at him. Weary from everything he'd learned, sick from all that he still didn't know or understand, he crouched behind a tombstone and waited for the killer to make his move. He didn't have to wait long.

A dark shape leaned out from behind one of the mausoleums. The shot breezed by so close, Jack thought it had grazed the side of his face. He ducked back, breathing hard. He waited a few moments, timing it, then peered out again.

Nothing moved. Thin clouds sailed across the moon, washing the cemetery in a ghostly white light. Long shadows hid behind headstones and trees, hanging on to the darkness.

Suddenly a furtive movement caught Jack's eye. Someone ran out from behind one of the grave markers and now zigzagged through the pines and granite headstones toward the chain-link fence, toward the road and a large, dark car parked at its edge, a long-barreled pistol in the shooter's left hand.

Jack leveled his gun, leaning across the top of the gravestone, waiting for a shot. Just as the figure reached the fence, he pulled the trigger. Boom. The sound echoed across the graveyard, bouncing like a pinball through the granite stones.

The would-be a.s.sa.s.sin seemed to hesitate for an instant as if the bullet had found its mark. Jack had shot only to wound the man. A leg shot. But as the figure scampered up and over the fence, dropping to the other side, Jack knew he'd erred on the side of safety and had let the killer get away.

He took one more shot, knowing it was futile. Too far to shoot for any accuracy. No chance of getting closer before the person reached the car.

The bullet shattered the back side window of the large, dark car as the driver leaped in. Jack heard the sound of an engine roar to life and watched as the car sped away in a cloud of dust and gravel.

Jack swore as he holstered the pistol and ran back to the open grave-and Karen.

"Did you get him?" she asked in a whisper.

He shook his head. "I didn't even get a good look at him." Medium height, medium build, wearing a baseball cap. Driving a large, dark, American-made car. He could have been the man Karen had seen with Liz at the Carlton. He could have been anyone.

"You'll get him next time." She smiled up at him with a mixture of relief and love that was almost his undoing.

He offered her a hand up out of the hole and noticed she was holding something.

Her expression changed as she saw his gaze shift to the doll in her hands. "You aren't going to believe this, Jack."

She held the doll out to him.