Death Night. Todd Ritter

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      Kat seemed surprised, although not unpleasantly so. If anything, Henry sensed she was impressed that her tiny town had once again made international news. Although not as big as the Grim Reaper murders, the story of Eric Olmstead’s quest to find the brother who had vanished decades before was enough to get the attention of his newspaper, if only for a day or so. Eric’s mystery novels, after all, were just as popular in Italy as they were in the United States. And the case was so sensational that no editor could resist.

      “I barely survived that one, too,” Kat said.

      “Maybe you have nine lives, like your name implies.”

      “I hope so. Because I have a feeling today is going to kill me.”

      They had yet to talk about the reason Kat was in the town’s history museum at such an odd hour. Henry knew it wasn’t just a fire keeping her up. Something else was going on. Something bad.

      “Who was killed?”

      Kat didn’t even bother asking him how he knew. He was a reporter. Part of his job was to be observant. Certainly, she was aware that a mobile CSI lab parked in front of the museum would tip off even the worst journalist.

      “Constance Bishop,” Kat said. “President of the historical society. You ever come into contact with her during your time here?”

      Henry hadn’t. He hadn’t been the most outgoing person when he lived in Perry Hollow. He hadn’t come out of his shell until a serial killer started playing mind games with him.

      “I know you’ll catch whoever did it,” he said.

      “Once again, we have help. Don’t be surprised if you see state troopers filling the streets while working on your article.”

      “Is Nick Donnelly one of them?”

      Kat gave a terse shake of her head. It’s what Henry had feared—Nick was no longer a cop. He had thought the state police would give him the benefit of the doubt. But some violations were too big to look past. Nick’s, apparently, had been one of them.

      “I hate to do this,” Kat said, checking her watch and taking one last gulp of coffee, “but I need to run. I have to head out to the morgue.”

      “That,” Henry said, “doesn’t sound like fun.”

      “It won’t be.”

      This time it was Kat who grasped his hands, squeezing them tight as she made him promise not to leave Perry Hollow again without saying good-bye. Henry swore he wouldn’t. He would be working all day and was scheduled to leave the next morning. His last stop, he told her, would be to give her and James a proper farewell. The one he should have given them a year ago.

      “I’m going to hold you to that,” Kat said, placing some cash on the table and sliding out of the booth.

      Before she left, Henry impulsively grabbed the sleeve of her uniform. The move startled not only Kat but himself as well. Usually, he was more composed than that. But there was one more bit of information he needed to know. Something that had been on his mind for a full year.

      “Do you ever see Deana?” He had wanted to seem casual, to make it sound like an offhanded question, as if he had just thought of it. Instead, it came out strained and worried. “I’m curious about how she’s doing.”

      “I haven’t really seen her,” Kat said. “She keeps a pretty low profile now. I know she’s still in town. She got a job at the library after the funeral home closed. Other than that, I have no idea how she’s doing. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more.”

      Henry nodded his thanks before letting go of her sleeve. He remained in the booth as Kat wound her way around the old men and hungry night-shift workers trickling into the diner. Through the window overlooking the parking lot, he watched her get into her patrol car.

      He didn’t leave the diner until he was certain Kat had driven away. Henry didn’t want her to see the slump-shouldered way he stepped into the gray gloom of dawn. He didn’t want her to notice his sad expression as he faced east. And most of all, he didn’t want Chief Campbell to see the direction he was headed in and realize his next destination.

       6 A.M.

      Kat drove to the county morgue accompanied only by the Crown Vic’s radio and a sack of bones in the backseat. All the state troopers, Lieutenant Tony Vasquez included, stayed behind at the museum to work the homicide investigation. That meant Kat was alone on bone duty, an assignment that, while interesting, wasn’t quite as vital as trying to identify a killer. She thought of it as desk duty—mere busywork to keep her from bothering the big boys.

      She didn’t mind. Much. Naturally, she wanted to be where the action was, but at least this way she could size up Nick’s girlfriend without anyone else present.

      On the way to the morgue, Kat swore she wouldn’t make any snap judgments about Lucy Meade, pro or con. Nick was a grown man who could make his own decisions about who he wanted to date. Or sleep with. Or whatever he and Lucy were doing. Kat’s main priority was to learn as much as possible about the skeleton found in the museum.

      Still, she couldn’t help keeping a mental checklist, especially when Lucy arrived right on time, pulling up to the morgue in a red Volkswagen Beetle. It was a vintage one, still in prime condition. That was definitely a mark in the plus column, with an extra point for punctuality.

      When Lucy got out of the car, Kat was surprised by what she saw. Lucy looked to be a good ten years younger than Nick, with bright blue eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair that she tucked behind her ears before shaking Kat’s hand. Petty jealousy usually dictated that youth and beauty went into Kat’s minus column, but she stayed neutral this time. It was easy to see why Nick was attracted to her. Lucy was stunning.

      “So you’re the famous Kat Campbell,” she said with a grin. “I’m so happy I finally get to meet you. Nick talks about you nonstop.”

      “All good things, I hope.”

      “All great things.”

      Flattery. Straight to the plus column every time.

      “He even told me how you like your coffee.” Lucy reached across the front seat of her Beetle, emerging with a giant thermos. “Black and strong, right?”

      This was a tough one. Under any other circumstance, bringing coffee earned a place in the plus column. But Kat had practically a whole pot of java sloshing around in her stomach, and while the caffeine kept her mind alert, it wasn’t sitting well with the rest of her body. Still, it was the thought that counted. Another plus.

      Lucy must have seen the uncertain look on her face because she said, “You just had some, didn’t you? Considering the hour, I should have known.”

      “No, it’s fine,” Kat said. “I just should have had some food with it, I think.”

      Lucy reached deep into the car again, this time returning with a flat box tied shut with some string. “Then it’s a good thing I also brought doughnuts.”

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