“It would take a lot of beer before you started to look good.”

“I heard that,” Alena called over. “You’re about to lose your socks.”

“We were just talking,” Nick called back. “He says his real name is ‘Eduardo,’ but he was too ashamed to tell you.”

Alena finally let out a laugh.

Bingo, Nick thought.

When Alena and Trygg had exhausted the area in front of the trees, they began to work their way deeper into the woods; by five o’clock they had finished. There were a total of seventeen graves in the old forgotten graveyard beside Dogleg Lake—but only one of them interested Nick.

“You’re sure this is the most recent one?”

“That’s what Trygg told me.”

“No offense, but—exactly how did she tell you that?”

“By how fast she found it—by the look she gave me—by how pleased she was with herself. If this one isn’t recent then they’re all old, because she treated the rest of them the same.”

Nick looked around the area: Little red flags dotted the open ground and gradually disappeared into the woods as if they were tiny creatures crawling off to hide. “I still can’t believe that dog of yours. She’s absolutely amazing.” He looked at Alena. “You know, you’re amazing too.”

She brushed the hair back from her face. “Thank you—Nick.”

“It sounded better that time. Now that didn’t hurt, did it?”

“A little.”

Nick looked toward the lake and spotted Trygg stretched out peacefully beside the water. She no longer wore the red bandanna with the polka-dot pattern. It figures, Nick thought. The bandanna was probably like a necktie, something the dog wore to work but couldn’t wait to get out of at the end of a hard day. “You can’t blame her for being tired,” he said. “She sure put in a long night.”

Alena looked up. She immediately clapped her hands and summoned the dog to her side.

“Why don’t you let her rest for a while?” Nick said. “You know—‘let sleeping dogs lie.’”

“She wasn’t resting.” Alena waited until Trygg sat motionless beside her, then made a quick tossing motion; the dog returned immediately to the lake and began to sniff along the edge of the water.

“What’s going on?”

“Wait.” Alena dropped her head and let her hair hang down over her face. She watched the tips of the long strands drift in the direction of the lake. She waited; after a few seconds the strands hung motionless, pointing directly at the ground—and then they began to drift back toward her body.

“Now,” she said, and looked up—just as the dog lay down again beside the water.

“There’s one more grave,” she said.

“Where?”

“Out there somewhere—in the lake.”

26

26

“Hello again.”

Agnes didn’t bother to look up. “Library closes in five minutes— checkout’s closed already.”