To Allison Lyons—for our first big book together.

       Thanks for all your suggestions and patience. Hope we celebrate many more together!

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      CHAPTER FIFTEEN

      CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

      CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

      CHAPTER NINETEEN

      CHAPTER TWENTY

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

      PROLOGUE

      LISA LANGLEY COULDN’T breathe.

      Heat engulfed her, and perspiration trickled down her brow and neck, the cloying air filled with the scent of decay, blood and foul body odors.

      Her captor’s smell.

      Her own.

      She was suffocating. Being buried alive. Swallowed by the darkness.

      Cold terror clutched her in its grip. The wooden box imprisoning her was so small her arms and legs touched the sides. An insect crawled along her chin, nipping at her skin, biting at the flesh. She tried to scream, but her throat was so dry and parched that the sound died.

      Tears mingled with the sweat on her cheeks, streaming into her hair and down her neck. What kind of maniac buried a woman alive?

      The same kind that robbed you of your life the last few days.

      William White. The man she’d dated off and on for the past six months.

      How could she not have known what kind of monster he was?

      She trembled as the terrifying memories rushed back—the first day the suspicions had crept into her mind. The subtle nuances that William possessed a violent streak. His morbid fascination with the articles in the paper describing the murders.

      The odd look in his eyes when the press named him the “Grave Digger.”

      Above her, a shovel scraped the ground. Dirt splattered the top of the box. Rocks and debris pinged on top of her. The shovel again. More dirt. Over and over. The eerie drone of his voice humming an old hymn faded in and out as he worked.

      The past few days had been a living nightmare. He’d heard her call the police. Had known she’d figured out his identity. Had known that the FBI was coming for him.

      There was nothing else he could do, he’d told her—except treat her as he had his other victims.

      She’d thought each day she would die. But each time, when he’d finally left her, bruised and hurting, she’d managed to will herself to survive. Because she’d thought she might be rescued. That Agent Brad Booker would make good on his promise to protect her.

      Particles of dirt pinged off the mound above her again, the sound growing faint as she imagined him finishing her grave.

      And then the silence.

      It frightened her the most.

      He had gone. Was never coming back. Her body convulsed with fear. She was hidden beneath the ground, locked in the endless quiet.

      No one would ever find her.

      She tried to raise her hand, to roll sideways so she could push at the lid. Her right hand was broken, throbbing with pain, but she dragged her left one to her side, twisted enough to turn slightly, and clawed at the top. Her nails broke into jagged layers, and her fingers were bloody and raw, with splinters jabbing her skin.

      He had nailed the top shut. And laughed as she’d begged him to stop.

      A few grains of sand sifted through the cracks, pelting her face. She blinked at the dust. Tasted dirt.

      It was so dark. If only she had a light.

      But night had fallen outside when he’d laid her in her casket.

      She pushed and scraped until her fingers grew numb. In spite of the unbearable heat, chills cascaded through her as death closed in. Then, slowly, peace washed over her as she reconciled herself to the fact that she was going to die.

      The life she’d dreamed about flashed into her mind—a beautiful white wedding dress. Getting married on a warm, sandy beach with the breeze fluttering the palm leaves and the ocean lapping against the shore. Moonlight shimmered off the sand as they exchanged vows, while her father stood in the distance, smiling proudly.

      Then she and her husband were making love beneath the open trees. Promising to hold each other forever.

      And later, a baby boy lay nestled in her arms. A little girl danced toward her.

      A little girl she could buy a birthstone ring for, just as her mother had for her. Once she’d outgrown it, she’d made it into a necklace. But William had stolen that, too. Had ripped it from her throat and thrown it to the ground. It was lost forever. Just like her dreams.