Reaching the car, I threw myself behind the wheel, slammed down the locks, revved the motor, and raced from the lot.

When I'd gone a mile, I began to calm, and an il-focused anger seeped over the fear. I turned it on myself.

Jesus, you're like the heroine in a B-grade movie. One crank cal and you scream for the help of a big strong man.

Seeing deer on the shoulder, I checked my speed. Eighty. I slowed, returned to chiding myself.

No one leaped from behind the building, or grabbed your ankle from under the car.

True enough. But the fax was not a crank. Whoever sent that list knew I'd be the one to receive it. Knew I was alone at the morgue.

As I drove through Bryson City, I checked the rearview mirror repeatedly. The Haloween decorations now looked menacing rather than festive, the skeletons and tombstones macabre reminders of the hideous events that had unfolded nearby. I gripped the wheel, wondering if the souls of my skeletal dead wandered the world in search of justice.

Wondering if their kilers wandered the world in search of me.

===OO=OOO=OO===

At High Ridge House, I cut the engine and peered down the road I'd just climbed. No headlights wound their way up the mountain.

I wrapped the scalpel in a Wendy's napkin and zipped it into my jacket pocket for return to the morgue. Then I gathered my belongings and dashed to the porch.

The house was quiet as a church on Thursday. The parlor and kitchen were empty, and I passed no one on my way to the second floor. I heard no rustling or snoring from behind Ryan's or McMahon's doors.

I'd barely removed my jacket when a soft knock made me jump.

'Yes?'

'It's Ruby.'

Her face was tense and pale, her hair glossier than a page from Vogue.

Her face was tense and pale, her hair glossier than a page from Vogue.

When I opened the door she handed me an envelope.

'This come for you today.'

I glanced at the return address. Department of Anthropology, University of Tennessee.

'Thank you.'

I started to close the door but she held up a hand.

'There's something you need to know. Something I need to tel you.

'I'm very tired, Ruby.'

'It wasn't an intruder that wrecked your room. It was Eli.'

'Your nephew?'

'He's not my nephew.'

She halted.

'The Gospel of Matthew tels us that whoever shal put away his wife—'

'Why would Eli trash my things?' I was not in the mood for religious discourse.

'My husband left me for another woman. She and Enoch had a child.'

'Eli?'

She nodded.

'I wished terrible things for them. I wished them to burn in hel. I thought, if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out. I plucked them from my life.'

I heard the muffled sound of Boyd's barking.