The smart moon had blanketed itself between two big, fluffy clouds, probably to keep warm. Jenna Holliday tugged close her police issue jacket wishing she could do the same. “Damn.” Florida wasn’t supposed to be this cold in December.

From outside the closed cemetery’s gate, she peered in at the faintly lit mausoleum that housed her mom’s remains. “Hey, Mom. I just finished the late shift, which was why I didn’t make it in time for your birthday. I’m sorry.” Jenna leaned her forehead against the wrought iron bars, gripping them tight. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to talk to you. No, I needed to talk to you. I missed passing the exam to make detective by five freaking points. Can you believe that?” She huffed out a breath. “Dad will go ballistic when he finds out. Not that I care.” She slapped her palm against the cold metal, the guilt of what she’d done so many years ago welling inside.

Let it go. You were only twelve. You had to tell Mom you saw Dad with another woman.

Keeping her gaze focused on her mother’s crypt a few hundred feet up the path, she stepped back from the fence and waved goodbye. She coughed into the sleeve of her jacket as she glanced around, hoping no one caught her talking to the dead.

All clear. The lot was empty.

Just as she turned to leave, a loud crash came from the other side of the mausoleum sounding like rocks breaking. Jenna spun back to the cemetery. A flashlight traced an arc across the lawn. What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Not thinking about her safety, she hopped onto the hood of her car and scaled the six-foot high cemetery gate, landing onto the paved walkway. Ouch. Her sore knee screamed.

Move. Halfway up the concrete path, more rocks exploded. Was that granite breaking? Ohmigod. They better not be touching Mom’s grave—or anyone’s grave for that matter. Her fingers shot to the gun on her hip.

Someone cursed. From his high-pitched voice, it sounded like a kid. She darted down the middle aisle of the mausoleum, trying to make as little sound as possible despite her breaths coming out hard and fast. She plastered her back against the far wall before making her move. The biting wind whooped and howled down the corridor.

“Let’s get out of here. We already got five heads.” The kid sounded scared.

“No, dumb ass. We don’t get paid until we have seven.”

They were stealing skulls? Not with her around they wouldn’t. She checked around the corner. Two teens, one blond and scrawny, the other beefy and dark, hovered over a coffin that was halfway out of the bottom vault with the lid partly off. The granite faceplate lay in pieces on the ground. Dear God. Several of the coffins in the bottom row were out and exposed. The smaller kid had what looked like a king-sized pillowcase slung over his shoulder. She could take both of them if she had to.

Jenna stepped into the open, her finger on her holstered gun. “Police. Put the sack down and get on your knees—both of you. Hands behind your head.” She counted the coffins. Her mother’s grave was sixth from the end. Dear God. They’d broken into Mom’s vault. Her stomach tumbled, but she kept her hand steady.

Before they did as she’d asked, something hard came down on the back of her head. Her knees buckled, sending her to the concrete. Her cheek planted on the ground, and a tsunami-sized ache raced down her body. When she tried to pop to her feet, her attacker delivered a sharp kick to her hip.

“Bitch.” The voice was deep, ugly, mature, and quite unforgettable.

He moved back, and her police training kicked in. Jenna pushed aside the pain and scrambled to her feet. Everything hurt, but she raised her gun, nonetheless. Her damned arms wobbled. The hooded man, dressed all in black, raced away, zigzagging right, then left.

“Police. Stop.” Her vision blurred long enough for him to disappear from sight. She turned around to apprehend the kids. Damn. They were gone too. Go after the guy.

On her second step, vomit rolled into her mouth and her legs gave way, dropping her to the ground. Crap. Police procedures raced through her mind. Suck it up and stop him. She stood, crouched low, and checked right, then left.

Shit. Other than the sound of the wind whipping through the trees, there were no footsteps, no voices, nothing. How had they vanished? Fuck. She’d screwed up—again.

Think. There were at least three perpetrators. Checking the surrounding area without a flashlight and being in a weakened state would be super stupid. No. She needed to call this one in, but damn, she’d have to admit she’d failed to stop the jerks.

A sharp pain stabbed the back of her head, and she touched her scalp. Gooey blood coated her hair around a wide laceration. She said a few words even her sheriff department father would have been appalled to hear.

She swiped her cell and called the precinct. “Hey, Tanner. I need backup.” She gave him the rundown about the kids, the coffin, and the skulls, including the fact one of them belonged to her mother. “I would have stopped them if some dude hadn’t attacked me.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, but he hit me hard in the back of the head.” Bad move. She shouldn’t have told him she’d been injured. Now the whole precinct would hear about her fiasco. After working hard for five years on the force to earn the men’s respect, she let some creep get the drop on her and ruin everything.

“What are you doing at a cemetery, Holliday? Didn’t you just get off work?” Old Tanner Trundell kept track of everyone and everything at the precinct.

No way he’d understand why she needed to visit her mom in the dead of night. “I was driving by when I saw something and stopped.” That was close to the truth.

“We’ll send a unit and an ambulance.”

“I’m good. I don’t need an ambulance.” Could this get any worse?

“You’re getting one anyway.”

Kill me now. After she disconnected, she made her way to the end of the aisle and dropped to her knees in front of where her mom was laid to rest. A gust of cold wind crawled up her shirt, and she zippered up her jacket. Tears burned the back of her lids. The coffin sat open, the head missing. Stolen. Her throat clogged, and a metallic taste leaked into her mouth. Mom’s blue Sunday dress was still neatly pressed, her leathery fingers clasped over her belly. Jenna reached out and placed a palm over where her mom’s heart would be. She glanced skyward, knowing her mother’s soul was with God, and that she wasn’t really missing, but the theft dredged up the pain of mom’s suicide again.

A slow boil ran from her stomach to her throat, and she pounded the walkway. “I’ll get back what you stole, you bastards.” She said it loud enough for them to hear, wherever they were.

She wanted to put back the carelessly tossed covers to give the dead respect, but this was a crime scene. Jenna stood and did a quick scan of the cemetery grounds. Were the boys and their leader watching her from behind some tree, and laughing about how they managed to get away? If they came back, she’d be ready.

Fists clenched, she paced in front of the coffins, trying to figure out how the man was able to sneak up on her. She should have checked the scene and taken her time instead of rushing in to save the day. She’d been stupid. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be a detective.

Not true. Her father had raised her to be a cop. She knew the ins and outs better than anyone, so how had she screwed up so badly? Rotten karma, she guessed.

“Hey, Jenna?” That was fast. It was her boss, Captain Lucas.

“Over here.”

Four men and two women rounded the corner. One was Lucas and the second was Larry Bernard, a veteran officer. The next two were CSU techs she didn’t know personally, and the last was her father. She gritted her teeth and marched over to the captain, trying to ignore the intense pounding in her head. “Why is my father here?”

“I invited him.”

“You had no right,” she whispered. Everyone knew she’d joined the Tampa Police Department and not the sheriff’s department to get away from the probing eyes of the man who basically had caused her mother’s death.

“You were hurt,” Captain Lucas said. “I thought he’d want to know. Besides, he’s one of us.”

Her father stood off to the side ramrod straight, not even attempting to console her. Typical. He was dressed in his sheriff department garb despite the fact it was one in the morning. He must never sleep. Other than his gray beard stubble, he looked like he’d come from work. Hell, maybe he had.

Her father nodded to her, and then stepped over to Mom’s grave. He lowered his head and his shoulders drooped. Jenna never remembered seeing him anything less than the tall, straight, always-in-control dad.

She might as well get this over with and walked over to him. “Hey.”

Her father faced her. The overhead light reflected off what she thought was a tear. She was about to touch his arm but then decided against it. No way would she let her heart melt toward him.

He looked up. “You okay?”

Now he asks? “Never better.” Don’t show any weakness had always been his motto.

Three camera flashes went off in succession, indicating the CSU techs were documenting the scene. The captain sidled up to her. “What happened exactly?”

What could she say? She let someone get the drop on her as two kids were stealing the skulls from the graves. Jenna explained the best she could.

“If we catch them, they’ll be up for assaulting an officer too.”

She didn’t care. All she wanted was her mother’s skull returned. “I want this case.”

“No. It’s too personal. Besides, Bernard here has been working another grave robbery case for the last few months.”

She remembered hearing about that one. “Did the thieves only take the skulls too?” Maybe they weren’t related.

Bernard stepped forward. “Actually, six coffins in four different cemeteries were dug up, but they stole the whole body.”

“Any leads?” Jenna pulled her coat tighter. It was colder than a concrete slab in winter.

“We’ve zeroed in a particular occult store in Ybor City, called Botanica. Rumor has it that a high priestess is using human bones to put evil spells on people, but we don’t have enough evidence to get a warrant to search the place.”

She glanced one more time at her mother’s grave, along with the other ransacked vaults and turned to the captain. “I want to go undercover there.”

Her father drew his gaze away from Mom’s coffin. “The man who hit you might work there and recognize you.”

Who made him head of TPD all of a sudden? “This isn’t your decision. Look, I need to do this. For Mom.” If I hadn’t told her your little secret, she wouldn’t have taken her life. I owe her.

He turned away and headed to the end of the row of vaults.

Lucas nodded at her father. “I think your dad’s right. You could be recognized. Besides, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

Captain Lucas stared hard at her. “I will admit you’d be perfect for the undercover job. You’re young, kind of hip, waiflike, and look no more than twelve.”

Kind of hip? She’d been battling the you-look-no-more-than-twelve comment her whole life—all twenty-nine years of it. “I want this.”

He took a big inhale and his eyes turned soft, almost as if he was regretting the words he was about to say. “I’ll give you one month to bring me hard evidence. Not a day more. I’ll have to reassign Phelps though.”

Her partner, Greg Phelps, who she loved like a father, was due to retire in six months anyway. She had to get used to life without him soon enough. “I’ll tell him if you want.”

Jenna’s barely twenty-year old customer curled her lip. The girl sported a kissing snakes tattoo that peeked from under the strap of a skimpy tank top, and she had more body piercings than Swiss cheese had holes. Jenna mentally shook her head as she scanned the to-be-purchased items. Dear God, who had the money to throw away on this crap? Careful not to expose her disgust, Jenna rang up the African mask, eye of newt powder, and paper-thin snakeskin.

“That’ll be fifty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents, please.”

Just looking at the girl’s tattoo made Jenna’s fake skull on her forearm itch like hell, but she didn’t dare scratch it. Too much was at stake.

The girl tossed down her VISA card. “Here ya go.” She turned to her girlfriend and began gossiping about the cute guys they’d met at the bar down the street. Considering the friend’s purple hair and orange eyebrows, Jenna could only imagine their definition of cute.

She flashed back to last week to when her dad had come into the store to lecture her on proper police procedures when doing undercover work. First came the pursed lips, followed by the intense body scan, making it clear he didn’t approve of her studded collar and pomaded hair. He acted as if she should have been wearing a plaid skirt and ponytails. In retrospect, she wished she’d dyed her blonde hair green or pink just to piss him off some more.

Jenna handed Miss Kissing Snakes a bone-shaped pen to sign her receipt and checked the clock again. Only twenty minutes until closing. Yay. On the down side, she only had a week left of her undercover job—and she still had no evidence of foul play.

Jenna leaned on her elbows. “Can I ask you guys something?”

They eyed each other. Kissing snakes nodded. “Sure.”

“My boyfriend has been stalking me, and the police won’t do shit.” Jenna narrowed her eyes. “I really want to find someone to put an evil spell on him. Do you have any ideas who I can ask? I got money.”

“Why not ask your boss? She did one for me about six months back.”

Jenna’s shoulders relaxed. “Really? I’ve been afraid to ask her. I thought she might get mad. How much did she charge?”

Kissing snakes shrugged. “She only charged me seven fifty since I’m such a good customer.”

“Seven dollars and fifty cents? I can handle that.” Acting dumb took work.

The girl rolled her eyes while orange eyebrows giggled. “Seven hundred and fifty dollars.” She tugged on her eyebrow ring. “If that’s too rich for your blood, I know of someone else, but he’s not as reliable.”

Deidra was considered reliable? Jenna widened her eyes real big. “Wow. That’s way outta my league. I’ll get back with you.” Seven hundred and fifty dollars for some priestess to stir a pot of junk and wave a hand over it? This world was messed up.

As soon as the two girls split, the owner of the store, Deidra Willows, waddled out, her long crinkle shirt dragging on the floor. She didn’t look like a high priestess to her. She was way too frumpy. A priestess should be tall, lithe, and very beautiful.

“Jenna, I need a favor.” Her thick black brows creased on her too pale face.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” Deidra’s very pregnant sister, Shelby, had another month of her term left. The sister had worked at the store the first week, but then went home to wait out her time.

“Her midwife is out of town, and Shelby’s in a panic. She’s gone into labor and needs me to look after the kids, and that deadbeat husband of hers won’t lift a finger. Do you mind putting the money in the safe and closing the store?” Before Jenna had a chance to answer, Deidra unhooked two keys from her broom keychain. “This one’s for the front door.” She placed it in the palm of Jenna’s hand. “And this gets you into my office. Be sure to lock the door before you go.”

“Don’t worry about a thing.” Inwardly she celebrated.

Deidra sneezed. “Are you okay?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, it’s just a damn cold. It’s a terrible time to get one, what with me having to watch the kids.”

“I hope you are taking something for it,” Jenna said.

“Not yet, but I will.”

Jenna made a production of straightening the mess on the counter as Deidra rushed out. Jenna itched to check out the back and look around. Her boss spent hours in her one-room hideout doing who-knew-what. Twice in the last three weeks, Jenna had gone to speak with her only to find the door locked. Even Jenna’s knocks had failed to rouse a response. She could only conclude Deidra was either into meditation or doing some kind of spell and didn’t want to be disturbed.

Since her boss wasn’t here to oversee her actions, Jenna turned off the eerie background music designed to enhance the gothic element of the place and extinguished the incense that irritated her sinuses. Not wanting anything to look out of order to an outsider, she waited until exactly ten to lock up.

“I’m going to put you back together, Mom. Don’t you worry. I’ll find those thieves.”

With money in hand, she headed to the inner sanctum. Deidra’s office sat wide open even though her boss had given her the keys. Interesting.

As she’d done for the past week, she flipped on the computer and entered the money into QuickBooks, happy not to have her boss breathing down her neck for a change. When she finished, she searched My Documents for something incriminating. After fifteen minutes, she shut down the machine. Cleaner than a picked bone. Damn. If her boss were into something sinister, she didn’t keep a log of it here. Jenna leaned back in the chair and shoved her hands through her stiff hair. Her chances of finding her mother’s skull were slipping through her fingers with each tick of the clock.

The captain made it clear Jenna needed proof someone was doing spells in this building using human remains before he could even ask for a warrant. She shivered just picturing her mom’s head being doused with bodily fluids and other foreign substances.

“Don’t dawdle,” she mumbled to herself.

As she placed the money into the safe next to the closet, she got a whiff of something foul, like an animal had died. She could only hope the stench was human. But if so, how come Deidre hadn’t noticed it? Oh, yeah. She had a cold.

After a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Deidra hadn’t materialized out of thin air, Jenna tugged hard on the closet handle next to the safe. It creaked open and a moldy stench blew out.

She’d expected to see a pile of stacked boxes, but instead found a dark hallway, lined with crumbing brick that led to another ancient-looking door. Determined to find out what secrets the old building held, Jenna headed down the unknown path, pushing down the knowledge she had no right to be there. The scarred, pine floorboards creaked under every step. She tugged on a ratty gray string hanging from the ceiling, and a dim bulb lit the long, narrow corridor.

This might be stupid. “Who am I? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

She hurried to the end of the walkway and tested the knob. Locked. Crap. The need to find out what was behind door number two overtook all rational thought. She raced back to the office and ripped open Deidra’s desk drawer, regretting never having learned to pick a lock. The key to the door had to be someplace. After a two-minute search, she found a ring of keys in the fourth drawer that looked like they came straight from Home Depot. She didn’t give a flip what they looked like as long as one of them let her get inside.

Rushing back down the hall, Jenna focused on the worn door. The first two keys failed to work, but the third one did the trick. She noted the time on her cell phone. She couldn’t afford to waste time investigating in case Shelby’s scare turned out to be a false alarm, and Deidra came back to check on her new employee. Always one to cover her bases, Jenna ran back and slipped the keys back into the fourth drawer.

Hurry. For her mom’s sake, she had to push ahead. Once at the end of the hallway, it took hard pulls until the door groaned open.

“Oh. My. God.” Dead fish rotting in the hot sun would smell better. She covered her nose.

Determined to find answers, she crept inside. The light switch was mounted next to the door, not that it did much good. The bulb couldn’t have been more than fifteen watts. Eerie, spooky shadows danced on the wall as she stepped inside. Her stomach in knots, her eyes widened at the brownish red streaks covering a cracked wall. It could be blood. That looked like warrant material to her. She whipped out her cell phone and snapped some photos. The flash washed out the markings, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

One red image consisted of an arrow through a two-foot diameter circle. A second one resembled a cross that had half fallen over. Could have been an X, but the horizontal bar had fancy pointed ends. A few of the other symbols looked like some kind of Pagan secret code, but none resembled the usual pentagram used in witchcraft. Even though she’d spent much of her recent days studying different Pagan religions, she had no clue what these slash marks symbolized. If she had to guess, she’d say they were closer to the black magic cult associated with Santeria rather than the more benign Wicca.

A whisper sounded behind the side wall, and she stilled. If she believed in ghosts, she would have sworn her mother was trying to tell her something. The reasonable side concluded the noise probably came from a bunch of kids outside. She half jogged over to the far side of the room where the stench grew stronger and images of dead bodies came to mind.

A loud bang behind her made her jump. She whipped around and slammed a hand to her chest. A wooden altar lay on the ground. Her swingy skirt must have knocked it over. “Stupid thing.”

Get out of here. Now.

“One more minute.” Please God, let me find something to help my mom.

Against the opposite wall sat another altar covered in dark stains. More blood, she bet. Her pulse raced. She’d find these thieving kids and take back what belonged to the families if it was the last thing she did. While she didn’t have a CSU kit to test for blood, she could scrape the wall with her fingernails and hope the small flakes would be enough for the test. She stepped closer and reached out a hand.

“What are you doing here?” said a voice behind her. The blood drained to her belly. That voice. Low, dark, evil—and totally unforgettable.

She whipped around and froze.