November 25, Monday

FROST GLITTERED on the headstones like scattered diamonds as I scribbled in my notebook, trying to capture the peculiar quality of November light. The graveyard felt different now—less peaceful, more watchful.

The scrape of dress shoes on gravel made me look up. Detective Jack Terry approached, carrying a modest bouquet of white chrysanthemums. His shoulders were hunched against the morning chill.

"Ms. Vanguard." He nodded, placing the flowers carefully at the base of Serena Benson's grave. "Still haunting the cemetery, I see."

"Just writing." I closed my notebook. "Any progress on the case?"

He straightened, brushing dirt from his knees. "Birmingham PD has a theory. Those college kids who vandalized the place? They might have been here the night the oak fell."

"The one that damaged Rose's grave?"

"Exactly." He pulled out his notepad. "Kids get drunk in the cemetery, tree falls, they see an exposed casket... crime of opportunity."

I frowned. "But why take it? What would college students want with a casket?"

"Fraternity prank gone wrong, maybe. Panic response." He shrugged. "Kids do stupid things when they're drunk and scared."

"Do you have names?"

"Actually..." He pulled a folded paper from his coat. "I was hoping you might recognize someone from the list. Most names are sealed since some of them are minors, but..."

I scanned the short list, my breath catching at the third name. "Jason Waco?"

"You know him?"

"No, but I know the last name. Edra Waco is a tour guide that leads ghost tours in the cemetery."

"No kidding."

A memory cord stirred. "Come to think of it, she had photos of the vandalism when they hadn't been made public."

He made a note. "I'll look into it." He glanced up. "I thought I might find Sawyer King here."

"He's not in town," I offered. "Reservist weekend."

"I need to talk to him. Are you sure you don't more than you're telling, Ms. Vanguard?"

I blinked. "What would you say that?"

He gave a little shrug. "You're living in her house. Taking care of her graveyard. Dating her cousin." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "You're as tangled up in Rose Whisper's story as anyone."

The wind picked up again, sending dead leaves skittering between the headstones like nervous animals. Above us, dark clouds gathered, promising rain.

"I've told you everything," I said stiffly. Maybe more than I should have, I realized.

"One more thing." The big man paused. "Before Rose died, she filed a police report. Said someone was following her. Watching her house."

My heart stuttered. "Did the police catch anyone?"

"No." He walked over and laid the white bouquet on Serena's grave, then turned back to me. "But she told the responding officer she thought it was someone close to her."

He walked away, leaving me with the growing storm brewing all around me.