"What are you doing?"

"Now I haveto know what's in here."

"I'm sorry-I shouldn't have brought it up. Maybe we'd better just leave it alone."

Cynthia moved over to where Greg was kneeling in front of the box. It was six or seven feet long and about three feet wide. Except for the top, it was mostly buried in the dirt, so there was no way to determine the depth.

Greg handed Cynthia his flashlight and pulled up on the board. It was heavy. He had opened it just a few inches when Cynthia directed the flashlight beam down into the box.

She jumped back, hitting her head on the wall.

Greg quickly lowered the lid and went to her side. "Baby, are you okay?"

She was shaking-as though she'd seen the Angel of Death. "Did you see inside?"

"What?"

She gulped. "Skeletons."

"Are you sure?"

She grabbed his wrist and shook it hard. "Yes, I'm sure. Get me out of here, Greg."

"Okay, but hang on a second. Will you hold the flashlight for me?"

"Do you really have to look? Can't you just take my word for it?"

"Just stay back here and hold the flashlight. Please?"

"Hurry."

Cynthia stood up and leaned against the wall and turned the flashlight toward the box.

Greg lifted the lid a couple of feet and studied the contents. There were several skeletons in the box. He counted four skulls and lowered the lid. His skin began to crawl, and he knew it wouldn't stop until he was back above ground. "Let's go."

It was only a little after midnight and Horatio was already making his first trip to the bathroom. He couldn't even remember what it was like to sleep through the night. His enlarged prostate was a pain in the b.u.t.t.

When he got back to the bed, Alma said, "Ben's talking in his sleep. Maybe you'd better go check on him."

"Nah. He'll settle down in a minute."

But his brother didn'tsettle down. He got louder.

"Horry?"

"Alright. I'm going."

Horatio walked to the guest bedroom and stood in the doorway. He could see his brother clearly, thanks to the moonlight coming in through the windows.

"Ben?"

Hadley continued to mumble.

"Ben, you're talking in your sleep."

But he talked even louder. He seemed to be angry with someone.

Horatio walked to the side of the bed. "Ben?" He put his hand on Hadley's arm.

Hadley jerked upright while grabbing something at his right side.

Horatio flipped on the light.

Hadley woke up, still clutching an imaginary object with both hands.

"Are you okay, Ben?"

"Uh...yeah."

"What's that you're holding?"

He looked down at his hands. "My M1 rifle."

"From the Korean War? So, you were about to shoot me?"

"Not you. I thought you were somebody else," he said sheepishly, as he lowered his arms.

"I didn't know you were still having those nightmares."

"I'm not. Hardly ever. I just get them when I'm worried about something."

"Well, what are you worried about? You came out here to take it easy. And we had a great time fishing today. You didn't seem worried then."

"I know."

"Just try to relax. And if you feel the need to shoot something, just wait until morning and take it out on the doves, okay?"

"Look, I don't know what's bothering me. It's as though there's a problem brewing at home."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. It's just a feeling."

"A feeling. You sound like a girl. Just be a manand shut up and go to sleep."

"Fine. Turn the light off and get out of my room and just maybe I will."

What kind of people had skeletons in their bas.e.m.e.nt? Who had killed the four people, and when? Greg and Cynthia wanted to leave those questions for the police.

Greg eased the door open just a crack and listened.

Silence.

He opened the door enough to slip out and tiptoed down the short hallway. He saw the four women, still out cold. He couldn't tell for sure whether they were breathing, but they still had color in their faces-except the skinny one. But then he remembered she had been that color when they first came into the room.

Greg peeked around the corner, hoping the woman was gone and the man had fallen back to sleep. But they were both gone.

He motioned for Cynthia to come out and make a run for it. She took a glance at her mother, and then they bolted down the long corridor. He knew he couldn't keep up with her, but he would try.

Then Greg heard voices behind him. And he knew he could still be seen from the hospital ward.

"I don't care if you dohave to pee. You should have waited until I got back. My grandmother's coming and-"

Carnie saw someone racing down the corridor. All four women were still in their beds. But whoever it was, she couldn't let them get away.

"Give me that." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the pistol from Jake's hand and ran. And she was a fast runner-maybe even faster than Cynthia. Definitelyfaster than Greg.

Cynthia made it to the stairs and took them two at a time. When she reached the top, she opened the door and turned around to wait for Greg.

Greg was running as hard as he could-or least he thoughthe was, until he heard somebody chasing him. Then he got a second wind. But his pursuer continued to gain on him. And when he reached the stairs, he heard a voice from behind.

"Stop or I'll shoot."

He didn't need to be told a second time.

"And you, up there-come back down here or I'll shoot him right now."

When that didn't get a quick reaction, Carnie said, "Or maybe you'd likeme to blow his brains out."

"No, stop," said Cynthia. She came down the stairs slowly.

"Let me guess. One of those women in there is your mother," she said to Greg. "Or yours." She nodded to Cynthia. "Right?"

"Yes," said Cynthia.

"Well, you two have just gotten yourselves into a heap of trouble. "She followed them back to the Hideaway Hospital. She had done it again-made somebody do what she wanted by threatening them with an empty gun. The secret, she thought, is att.i.tude. That's what fools them every time.

"Looks like we snagged a couple of fish without even trying, Jake," said Carnie as she threw him the pistol. "One of our volunteers was the bait."

Jake studied Greg and Cynthia and wondered whether they would live through the night.

"So, this lovely couple was willing to give their lives for one of these women," said Carnie. "Wonder which one?"

She reached behind her back to the scabbard and pulled out her knife-the one she had nearly stabbed Jake with earlier. She had strapped it on when she went up to her bedroom.

She went to Betsy Holsom and held the knife at her throat.

"Please don't," said Cynthia.

Then she tried Ellen Pinkly.

Greg said, "Why are you doing this?"

Next was Marcia Cleggmore. "Is it this one? If so, you must be rich."

No reaction.

Then Carnie went to Beverly's bed.

Cynthia gasped.

"Bingo," said Carnie. She clasped the knife in both hands and raised it above her head and said, "Say goodbye to Mommy."

Greg ran at Carnie with surprising speed, catching her off guard.

Carnie took the knife in her right hand and tried to stab him.

But he managed to grab both of her wrists.

She couldn't break free from Greg's grip, so she pushed and pulled and spun him around the room. They looked like a dance couple at an amateur compet.i.tion-except for the big, sharp knife in her hand.

Jake just stood there watching, gun in hand.

Cynthia didn't think she could help Greg without getting shot.

Finally, Greg lost his balance and tripped backward, cracking his head on the edge of the table as he went down. He still had a grip on her arms. But he was feeling weaker and dizzier by the second.

Carnie used her body weight to push the knife down closer and closer to Greg's chest.

"No! Don't hurt him!" said Cynthia. She looked at Jake. "Do something!"

But Carnie was determined. The knife was only two inches from his chest. Now she knew she would win. She pushed down even harder. The tip of the blade was touching his shirt. Just one more good push, she thought, and he's a goner.

"Carnie! Stop!" The voice of authority echoed from the corridor.

Carnie pulled the knife away and stood up. "Hi, Grandma."

Chapter33.