Alena pulled her truck over to the side of the road and shifted into neutral. “There it is,” she said, pointing out the passenger window. “Dogleg Lake.”

Nick looked out his window; beyond the railing and down a steep slope he saw the glimmer of moonlight on water through the pines.

“You’re sure that’s the one?”

“How many lakes shaped like a dog’s leg do you think we have? It’s been called that as long as I can remember.”

“Let’s take a look. Can you get us down there?”

“I’m still not sure I get this. Why are we looking for a graveyard here? What does this have to do with the Patriot Center?”

“It has to do with Marge,” Nick said. “She did that interview—she said she found all those graves—and then she disappeared.”

“So?”

“Let’s assume that someone killed her. Why would they do that?”

“Like you said, to keep her from finding any more graves.”

“Yes, but she already found all the graves—she said so in the interview. Why would someone kill her after she was already finished? They wouldn’t—unless there was something else she still might find.”

“Unless there was something I might find.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“But—in a different graveyard?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense to me. The killer used the same double-grave technique three times; it worked for him, so why would he change? He apparently learned the technique from someone who used it a long time ago—maybe an ancestor who left a little ‘oral history’ of his own. He decided to use a historical graveyard because no one would ever look there—it was already forgotten. But would he bury all of his victims in the same graveyard, or would he diversify a little—spread out his risk of discovery? I think that’s what he did; I think that’s why he went after Marge. He saw what she could do, and he was afraid she might do it again—somewhere else.”

“But you don’t even know if there are any more victims.”

“No—and if it wasn’t for Marge, I wouldn’t even be looking. That was the killer’s big mistake: He didn’t have to do anything—he played a card when he didn’t have to. C’mon, let’s see what we can find. We need to get you home before daybreak.”

The truck shifted back into gear with a thunk. There was a gap in the railing where a narrow gravel path left the road at a precarious angle. Alena jerked the wheel hard and steered the truck onto it. The right front wheel dropped suddenly, throwing Nick against the passenger door.

“Do you know where this road goes?” Nick asked.

“Down.”