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car and hopped inside. I debated for a moment on the best place to put the key. Shoving it into my purse with my lip-gloss and spare keys was out. Even though it was remarkably solid, the scientist in me recognized and respected that it was, first and foremost, an artefact of considerable age. I glanced around the car and finally decided on my leather tote. The zipper ed pocket would protect it, and it would be with the papers that I had managed to ‘ escape ’ with.
    My next stop was a small diner a couple of towns over. I sat in a booth and sipped coffee while I debated my next move. I knew that I should be going to the airport. It was the next step to take and by far the safest. But I kept thinking about Mike ’ s letter and the documents that he said were buried in my backyard , of all places. I shook my head and frowned at the parking lot beyond the window to my right.
    I really wanted those documents and , even though it was stupid, I knew I would have to go back to get them. I could only h ope I would be alone this time.
    ***
    It was well past sunset by the time I pulled into my subdivision. Of course, if it hadn ’ t been dark I would have waited until it was. I couldn ’ t be sure whoever had been inside my house that night was gone ; just the opposite ... I was certain that my house was still occupied. It was probably the bright lights burning though the night from my kitchen window that gave it away. So , they were still waiting for me…great.
    Well , I rationalized , as I crept into the yard from the alley, I expected that . So there was really no need for me to feel like throwing up into my rose bushes. I told myself all of this. It didn ’ t help. Knowing that people who wanted to hurt me were within shouting distance did absolutely nothing for my nerves.
    The moon was silvery and bright and the night was foggy — thank you God — as I dropped to my stomach, crawling the rest of the way to the largest tree in my backyard. T hree other trees grew in my back yard , but this one was the farthest from the house and the largest. The others were fairly new and wouldn ’ t provide any sort of coverage at all. I hoped that Mike had buried it under this one because I didn ’ t think I had it in me to dig up the others out in the open like that.
    Looking down at my hands , I grabbed the small shovel and trowel I had brought with me. I had purchased them , along with my new black sweater and jeans, on the way. The shovel and several gardening tools that I owned were stored in the garage , which attached to the house. Anyway, I studied my hands for a minute and listened to the night sounds around me.
    “ All clear , ” I whispered, and began to dig. Inside the house shadows moved.
    ***
    Carl Galveston didn ’ t hate his job; he hated his boss. He told himself this as he used his index finger to silently brush each curtain aside and peer out into the dark night. Knowing that the source of his anger was misplaced didn ’ t help. He was still in a bad mood and had been for several months. Was it possible to stay pissed for six months? He contemplated this as he moved from room to room for his nightly check. Tonight was the last night of the stake out. The assignment was short and simple. Wait for the scientist lady to come home and intercept her.
    He and the two other men on the job had already delivered the box. For whatever reason, John wanted the woman as well. The instructions were clear. John wanted an immediate phone call the minute she was found. They were supposed to search her and deliver any possessions they found with her to John. That was where the instruction ended , b ut Carl knew the routine. Take what was needed and destroy the evidence. That was simply how things worked , and Carl hated that it applied equally to women. A man he didn ’ t mind so much. He had been killing for so long he no longer even saw it as killing. He was just doing his job every time he pulled the trigger or wiped off a