Would I ever have the courage to do what Dorothy had suggested? “Get it right with God. Then get on with life,” she’d said.

Brad went to church. I could ask him how to get it right with God. Because more than anything, I wanted to get on with my life.

I wanted to live for my grandmother’s sake, because she couldn’t anymore. Live for my mother’s sake, because she missed so much of life herself. And live for my own sake, because even if the dead couldn’t be brought back to life, I had to believe that the living could.

I gave the hammer a powerful swing. The head crashed against the chisel and tore up a chunk of concrete the size of a potato.

I moved the piece aside. A faint odor of rotten eggs and old tuna fish wafted from the hole I’d made. I jumped away from the smell, knowing in my gut what it must mean. I crawled for the flashlight, skirting the crevice. I shone the weak beam into the gap. Bile rose in my throat at the sight of raw, white knuckle bones protruding from the hole. Remains of flesh covered the far ends of three visible fingers. And on the third was a ring with a large center diamond surrounded by mini stones.

“Rebecca,” I whispered. An electric charge rushed through my body at the sound of her name.

45

My flashlight went out.

No matter. I’d found enough evidence to clear myself of Dietz’s murder. With a paper trail just two garages over and a dead body to boot, David would spend the rest of his life behind bars. He certainly couldn’t claim a mercy killing in his case.

I heard a creak. I froze in place, listening.

The steps groaned under the weight of an intruder.

My hands turned cold with fear. I crept backward and pressed against the side of the cistern, afraid to be discovered by whoever was now in the cellar with me. Faint shadows shifted on the wall above the cistern as someone passed beneath bare lightbulbs.

Beads of sweat dotted my skin despite the cold stones and frigid air around me. An ache worked its way across my shoulders and down into my legs. Chills shook me. I knew a fever when I felt one. Perhaps my plunge into the swamp earlier today shouldn’t have been topped off with a dip in the cistern.

I only hoped the visitor couldn’t hear my teeth chattering.

Upstairs, the back door opened and slammed shut.

Feet scuffed against concrete as the basement intruder headed toward the opposite end near the furnace.

Thumps sounded above me and moved across the kitchen floor. The steps creaked as the newcomer joined our basement party. The latest arrival stopped at the bottom of the stairs, perhaps listening.

I tried to hold my breath, but it came in gulps of fear. I squeezed against the cistern. Cold stone jutted into my frame and sucked the last bit of warmth from me. I huddled, shivering.

Footsteps approached my corner.

I wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to run.

I heard breathing. Just beyond the cistern wall.

A shoe took a foothold somewhere on the opposite side. A shadow appeared above the ledge, then the silhouette of a man’s head.

I gasped.

The man jerked his head in my direction. It was David.

“Tish?”

My heart fired cannons in my ears. I’d hoped to be invisible despite the pale wash of lightbulbs.

“What are you doing in there?” His proper British accent made him seem so harmless.

“Don’t come any closer.” My voice came out machine gun fashion as I battled the chills.

“My word. Are you all right?” he asked.

What a pretender. What a liar. What a greedy, murderous jerk. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fallen for him. Talk about a poor judge of character.

“I found her, David. I found Rebecca.”

He mumbled an oath under his breath. “How bad are you hurt? Here, give me your hand. I’ll help you.”

He reached toward me.

I shrank back. “Don’t come any closer.”

“Hurry, Tish. Let me help you out of there before she comes back.”

“Before who comes back?”

“Rebecca. You said you found her.”

“I did. She’s buried in here. As if you didn’t know.” I spat the words at him.

He glanced around the blackness of the cistern.

“Unless you’re a magician, I’m quite certain Rebecca is not buried in there. As much as I wish she were. Now give me your hand, or I’ll have to come in and get you.”

“Don’t you smell that?” The foul odor permeated the bottom of the cistern. “You think I don’t know who that is? You buried her with her wedding ring on, you heartless creep.”

His hand reached toward me once more.

“Don’t touch me.” I tried to back away, but my muscles felt like rigor mortis had set in.

“I’m here to help you, Tish. Give me your hand.”

I couldn’t see his face with the only light in the basement coming from behind him. He sounded sincere, but I had to admit, he was an excellent liar. Rebecca lay dead beneath my feet. And the only way David could get me to trust him was to pretend she was still alive.

I wasn’t about to fall for it. “I don’t believe you.”

“Tish, please. We’re running out of time. You know a little more about her business than she’s willing to tolerate. I can’t say what she’ll do to you when she comes back.”

“If you care so much about helping me, how come you tried to kill me this afternoon?”

Silence.

His voice sounded too smooth to be trusted. “I had no idea. What happened?”

A round of chills shook me. “You tried running me over with your flashy sports car, and I jumped in the swamp. Duh.”

He looked off to one side. “Rebecca.” David’s voice took on a pleading tone. “I’ve got enough guilt that you’re involved in the whole mess as it is. Don’t make it harder on me. Give me your hand so we can get out of here.”

My hammer was more than arm’s reach away somewhere in dark. I couldn’t make a grab for it without putting David on the alert. And for all I knew, he was holding a gun. My best hope was to negotiate my way out of the cistern.

“Leave town, David. Just go away. I promise I won’t tell about Rebecca. I’ll cover for you.” I tried to keep my voice calm and steady, but it didn’t take a polygraph to tell I was lying.

“I wish I could take your advice,” he said. “But I’m turning over a new leaf. After everything you know about me, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine that I really love you, but I do.” He paused, hanging his head. “But timing was off by about five years and one marriage. And by trying to force things to go my way, I created a monster.

“As soon as Rebecca got wind of the divorce papers, she was back in Michigan, staying at the house, threatening to turn me over to the authorities if I didn’t withdraw my petition. My crimes add up to twenty-five years or more. She loves to hold that over my head.”

I thought of the twenty-five red roses David had given me, and the morbid card I’d found to go with them. David didn’t seem deranged enough to create such an elaborate charade. And yet, if he were capable of murder . . .

“I’m sorry, Tish,” David said. “I know I led you to believe Rebecca was the one to file for the divorce.”

“Why didn’t Rebecca want a divorce? She’s been gone a year, hasn’t she?” I asked, hoping to shed light on his diabolical thought patterns.

“As long as we’re married, she figures she can control me, even from across the country. But Michigan is a no-fault state. She can’t stop the divorce process once it’s started. Only I can. I’d risk prison, deportation, and even death to be free of her.”

So, David had filed for divorce and pretended Rebecca had been the one to file. Probably hoping I’d be a sucker for his puppy-dog eyes.

I’d fallen right into his net.

“Rebecca really can’t turn me in to the authorities without implicating herself,” he said. “And the penalty for her crimes adds up to far more than twenty-five years.”

There was a shuffle and a shadow behind David. Then from nowhere, an object hit the side of his head with a sickening crunch.

46

I screamed.

David’s silhouette disappeared from above the ledge. I heard muffled thumps as his body settled against the floor on the other side of the cistern wall.

Then came hard breathing. But not from David. Some shriller quality to the sound made me think of a woman.

“Tish,” a voice said in barely a whisper.

Chills attacked me.

The sound of scuffing on stones. A face appeared above the cistern. Wisps of blonde hair shone golden in the pale light.

“Tish is what they call you, isn’t it?” The alluring voice was unfamiliar.

I squinted to see the face, but couldn’t make it out in the dim light.

“We haven’t met,” the speaker said, “but we’re practically neighbors. I used to live around here.”

I thought about Jack’s insistence that the woman who used to live here entered the house with Dietz the night of his murder. Perhaps this was the woman he’d been thinking of.

And from the confident toss of her head and the evil dripping in her voice, I could only conclude that she was the illustrious Rebecca Ramsey.

But if Rebecca really was still alive, then who was buried at my feet?

“Sorry you had to see that.” Rebecca hefted a spade and laid it along the top ledge. She set a flashlight next to it.