Jane didn’t hear her own scream. The shock had rendered her deaf and weirdly numb. She knew she was running, but couldn’t feel her legs. She flung herself down on overturned soil of the shallow grave and began digging frantically with her hands, but couldn’t feel the earth between her fingers. She stared at Karly Vickers’s face, pale blue-white against the dark earth, but couldn’t feel the horror of that reality.

“Oh my God!” Steve Morgan exclaimed behind her.

“Call for help! Call for help!” Jane shouted, digging and digging like a frantic animal. She uncovered the girl’s throat, part of one shoulder. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Steve standing, flat-footed.

“Call 9-1-1!” she screamed at him.

“She’s dead, Jane.”

“No!”

“She’s dead.”

“No!”

Like in a nightmare, he didn’t move, didn’t seem to grasp the urgency of the situation.

Jane pushed to her feet and ran past him back to the house.

It wouldn’t penetrate her brain that Karly Vickers was dead. Hands trembling wildly, she grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

“I need an ambulance! I need an ambulance at five eighty-nine Arroyo Verde. Hurry!”

“What’s the problem, ma’am?” the operator asked with a sense of calm that struck Jane as being insane.

“I need an ambulance! Are you deaf? Send the damn ambulance!”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but ended the call and dialed Cal Dixon’s pager number, leaving her number and 911 for the message.

Operating purely on instinct, she ran back outside and grabbed a spade as she passed the potting bench.

“Jane, we shouldn’t disturb the scene,” Steve said, trying to block her from the grave.

Without hesitation she swung the spade and hit him in the shins with the business end of it. He jumped back, shouting something she didn’t hear.

She turned the loose earth as quickly as she could, exposing an arm, a leg. In the distance she could hear a siren wail.

Oh my God, oh my God, she chanted inside her head over and over. Had this been what the dogs had gone crazy for in the night? She had believed it was just the coyotes. Had some madman been back here doing this? Why hadn’t she gone to look? Why hadn’t she called Cal? What if it was too late because she had done none of those things?

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

The EMTs came charging around the rose hedge, skidding to a stop at the sight.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Holy shit!”

Jane threw the shovel down and shouted at them, “Help her! Help her, damn you!”

The two men moved hesitantly closer. She grabbed hold of one of them by a fistful of uniform. “Help her!”

“There’s no helping her, ma’am,” he said. “She’s gone.”