“I’m not expecting him to replace the headstones and plant flowers,” Nick said, “but it’s been three hours and he hasn’t found a single grave.”

“Give the dog some time. You’ve got two graves to get started on; do your work and let the dog do his.”

“I can’t,” Nick said. “Apparently I’m a ‘distracting scent.’”

“The dog told you that?”

“No, the woman did.”

“So who are you distracting—the dog or the woman?”

“I’m not calling you anymore,” Nick grumbled.

“Good. That Nick—he’s no whiner.”

Nick closed the phone and tossed it over his shoulder.

Elgin looked at him. “What’d the boss have to say?”

“FBI agents don’t always think clearly,” Nick said. “Too much time at the shooting range.”

Another thirty minutes passed.

The sun was just beginning to dip behind the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains now; the woman, taking note of the shadows stretching toward her, attached a leash to her dog’s collar and began to walk back toward the parking lot.

“Nice work today,” Nick called out as she passed. “One suggestion: You might tell the dog to search for graves instead of all the places where there aren’t any. That might save time—it’s a big planet.”

The woman sniffed. “It’s the temperature.”

“Excuse me?”

“The warmer the temperature, the more difficult it is for the dog to pick up the scent.”

“It gets cooler here in the fall,” Nick said. “Why don’t you come back then?”

“We will be back in the cool of the morning,” she said.

Nick and Elgin watched her as she turned and led the dog away.

“An entire day wasted,” Nick groaned.

“I take it you’re not one for sittin’ around.”

“I’d rather be driving in the wrong direction than waiting at a stoplight.” “Felt that way myself at times.”

“I can’t just sit here and wait for Bosco to grow a nose. Somebody else around here must have a cadaver dog. What about the sheriff’s department—don’t you guys have any contacts in the area?”

“None that I know of—not much need. Y’know, if you really want to find those graves, you ought to ask the witch.”

Nick turned and looked at him. “Who?”

“The witch—the Witch of Endor.”

“There’s a witch in Endor?”

“Not in Endor exactly—she lives in the mountains up above the town. Her people have lived up there as long as anyone can remember. She’s the only one left now. She practically owns the whole mountaintop— got a big fence around the whole thing. I seen it myself.”

“Does she ever come into town?”

“Oh, no, sir—witches don’t associate. They only come out at night, and generally by a full moon. She only associates with animals.”

“Animals?”