“Don’t mess up the coffin,” Diane Moses warned. “That’s evidence, Reed. There could be tool marks or fingerprints or—”

“Open it up. Now!” he yelled, ignoring Moses, his fingers raking at the casket’s mud-slickened top. “Now!”

It was sealed tight. Wedged into the hole.

His heart pounding fearfully, he and a burly cop used crowbars to wedge into the top, using their weight against the handles of their tools, blinking against the rain, straining in the night.

“It’s no use, we’ll have to lift it,” Cliff Siebert yelled down at them.

“We don’t have the time,” he screamed, flinging his weight harder against the bar.

“We’ll get the equipment.”

“For God’s sake, we have to open this fucker now!” He and the big man leaned on one bar, their muscles flexing, cords of their necks visible, jaws set. He felt the bar give. Just a little.

The big man roared and pressed harder and there was a cracking sound as the seal gave way. They both straddled the coffin, their legs sinking into the mud as they forced open the lid and the smell of blood and death seeped out.

“God, no,” Reed whispered, hearing nothing. “Nikki?” He pulled the flashlight from his pocket and, heart thudding in dread, shined its thin beam through the crack to the bloodied, mutilated corpse within.

Reed thought he might be sick as he stared into the glassy eyes of a very dead LeRoy Chevalier.

Nikki dragged in a breath. Opened an eye to the intense darkness.

Her mind was foggy. She reached up and hit her hands.

Just like before. You thought it was all part of a macabre dream, but it’s not.

“No!” she cried, trying to sit up and cracking her head again. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be trapped in a coffin! This was a sick dream.

Adrenaline pumped through her blood.

Instantly her mind cleared.

There was something beneath her, something that felt like a big, lumpy body and…and…She touched her leg with her hand, then her hip and her chest. She could barely move but she realized she was naked and definitely pressed into a box…No…oh, no…this couldn’t be a casket! Whatever she was in was moving. She felt the bumps as it bounced. Or was being transported. Faintly she heard the whine of an engine. Probably a truck carrying her to what the Grave Robber thought was her final resting place.

With a dead body beneath her.

That was it.

Terror cut her to the core and she nearly threw up. She couldn’t be buried alive in a coffin, and oh, please, God, and not mashed into a rotting, dead body.

Panic strangled her. She began clawing, pressing against the top of her cage. The lid didn’t budge.

This was insane. She had to get out! Had to! This small dark space…Her mind tried to turn to jelly; she’d always been a little claustrophobic, but she wouldn’t die this way. Couldn’t. As long as she wasn’t yet buried, she had time. She could escape.

Think, Nikki. Don’t lose it. Do something! Do something smart!

She forced herself to concentrate, to keep the panic at bay.

She remembered going to her parents’ house without the gun her father had insisted she carry. If only she had that weapon now, she might be able to save her life, but no, she hadn’t had it with her when she’d found her father and come face to face with the Grave Robber.

Sick, detestable bastard.

And to think she’d once felt empathy for him.

How foolish she’d been.

He’d duped them all and now she was his captive, his next victim along with the corpse on which she’d been placed. Her skin crawled and it was all she could do not to cry out, but she knew that would be to no avail. Hadn’t she heard Simone’s pathetic wails? No doubt the animal would record her screams should she