“I’m a professor of entomology at NC State down in Raleigh. I’m also a forensic entomologist—that’s why I’m here in Virginia. I’m working for the FBI.”

“Working on what?”

“Are you familiar with the Patriot Center?”

“You mean that unforgivable scar that destroyed a thousand acres of beautiful Virginia hardwoods?”

“That’s the one. During excavation they discovered an unmarked graveyard; by law they have to stop and identify all the remaining graves and relocate them before work can continue.”

“Good—I don’t care if they ever find them.”

“The FBI does.”

“Why?”

“Because a couple of the graves contain two bodies—one in a casket and another one buried on top. Apparently somebody had the bright idea of hiding a body by burying it in an existing graveyard—they figured nobody would bother to look for it there. If there are two bodies then there might be more; if there are more we might be talking about a serial killer here—that’s why the FBI’s involved. We need to find the remaining graves as soon as possible.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I think you have a cadaver dog here—an exceptionally good one.”

“What makes you think that?”

Nick smiled. “You know, you’re an interesting person. ‘The Witch of Endor,’ they call you—and it’s not just a nasty name that somebody made up—it’s something you actually encourage. So much myth and superstition surround you that it’s hard to separate fact from fiction. A sheriff’s deputy told me that you actually have the power to raise the dead—but when I asked a few questions I realized what he was really describing: You have the power to find the dead—or should I say, your dog does.” Nick pointed to the three-legged dog seated at her side. “Is that it?”

“Her,” she corrected. “She has a sex, you know.”

“Sorry. When I was down there I should have noticed.”

“Why should I help the FBI?”

“Forget the FBI,” Nick said. “Help me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The FBI hired some woman with a FEMA-certified cadaver dog— King Ding Dong or something. The dog’s got all the right credentials, but it just can’t smell. They’ve been working for two days now, and they still can’t find any graves.”

“Two days?”

“That’s right—and she won’t let me come anywhere near the site because she says my scent is distracting her dog.”

“That’s silly. She’s making excuses.”