Dust to Dust (Rebecca Reid/Michael Campbell)

After months of long-distance phone calls, Rebecca Reid is thrilled to be working with Michael Campbell again, this time on a dig at Rudesburn Priory in the Scottish Borders. It’s rumored that Robert the Bruce's heart was buried there, and that the abbey's last prioress, Anne Douglas, still haunts its ruins.Michael and Rebecca have to work with a self-important archaeologist, Jeremy Kleinfelter, whose reputation is on the line after he was accused of salting his previous dig. They also have to deal with the townspeople, who want the dig to be successful---and who don't know about Jeremy's shady past---and four volunteers working on the dig, loose cannons, every one, each with a secret in his or her past. Then Sheila Fitzgerald, Michael's ex-girlfriend, appears, intent on filming a documentary about the dig.Uncovering a medieval murder mystery makes the tense situation at the dig even tenser. It's the very fresh body in a very old grave that blows it wide open---and tests their relationship for once and for all. For despite ghosts, music, and mayhem, the dig must go on. “...Carl shows herself to be quite a skillful practitioner of the Gothic romance...this has everything.”--Timothy Lane, FosfaxDust to Dust is a wonderful sequel to Ashes to Ashes. It is not necessary to read Ashes to Ashes, though, as Carl does a fine job about giving the reader a little bit of background if they are not familiar with the story. Still, Ashes to Ashes is a great book so I recommend you read it... Rebecca and Michael are in that interesting stage of a relationship where they are serious enough to have to determine if what they have is worth taking to the next level or if they should just give up on the whole thing. It was also wonderful to have a dig in Scotland as the backdrop. I particularly enjoyed learning about Scottish history and the archaeological aspects were fascinating. The book is a wonderful read and I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys romantic mysteries! Debbie, Resident Scholar on AllReaders.com

From the Publisher

Carl shows herself to be quite a skillful practitioner of the Gothic romance...this has everything.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

A funny noise pulled Rebecca floundering from a dream as deep and dark as water cut by nameless predators. She groped for the eyeglasses she'd left on the bedside table. What she grabbed was her watch. Almost noon. She was in a sunny room, bed linen crisp and white, the polished oak of dresser and armoire tortured into Victorian opulence. The room would've reminded her of her grandmother's house, if her grandmother hadn't lived in a pink and lime condo in Tampa. There was the noise again, a kind of trilling gargle. Her eye fell on the telephone on the wall between the beds. That was the culprit. She reached for the receiver. "Hello?" "Good mornin'. Is this Rebecca, by any chance?" The warm smile in the man's voice elicited one from her. "Yes, it is." "Colin MacLeod here, from Fort Augustus. I daresay Michael's mentioned me to you a time or two, if not nearly so much as he's mentioned you to me." "Oh hello, Colin! Yes, he's mentioned you quite a bit. Even showed me a snapshot of the two of you out hill-climbing. I hear you helped him do the geophysical survey at Rudesburn." "The North of Scotland Hydroelectric Board doesn't mind my doin' a wee bit of consultin' on the side." He hesitated. "I'm sorry if I woke you, but I need to speak to Michael." "He's not here. I've still got my days and nights mixed up, so he went shopping. I'd be glad to take a message." Rebecca perched on the edge of the bed, her sock-clad feet swinging, and smothered a groan. Now what? Colin emitted a sound that he might have intended to be a laugh, but which didn't quite achieve humor. "Sorry, but it's a right awkward bit of muck, and no mistake. Laurence Baird rang me from Rudesburn, lookin' for Michael. Just to let him know what to expect. Laurence doesn't realize the implications, of course. And it is quite a bargain for them." "Yes?" prodded Rebecca. Colin took the plunge. "You already know about the American archaeologist, Jeremy Kleinfelter." Oh, lord. Had that unsavory rumor washed up on British shores already? She replied cautiously, "I've never met him, but I know people who know him. By all accounts his ego matches his brilliance." "It's the latter that caused the RDG--the Rudesburn Development Group, the villagers--to hire him. To direct a quick excavation before doin' some preservation work and buildin' a museum--right?" "Right. Like's been done at Jedburgh, just down the road." "Well, Kleinfelter's made a bargain with a production company to film the dig. For a record for the Historical Buildings and Monument lot and the Museum. The film crew'll work for free--if they can also make a program for the telly about..." He cleared his throat and assumed a sonorous announcer's voice, "...the haunted convent and the lost treasure of the spectral nun." "Oh, I see," said Rebecca. "The ghost Prioress and the convent treasury looted by Henry VIII. They'll say Henry uncharacteristically left something behind." "When reality fails," Colin said, "make something up." "Great." Adele had certainly come to the right place. Rebecca was beginning to wonder if the woman was clairvoyant. As for Kleinfelter--well, publicity was a necessary part of any excavation, but she'd expected the man to be keeping a lower profile after the scandal on his last dig. "I'm sure Michael won't be thrilled at their sensationalizing the dig. But a film for free--you can't beat that." "You maybe could, Rebecca, when I tell you that Kleinfelter hired Plantagenet Productions, chief producer Sheila Fitzgerald." Rebecca's brain hiccuped. The line hummed in her ear. In the garden a bird sang lustily. Someone banged down the hall outside the door. "You mean," she said between her teeth, "the same Sheila Fitzgerald Michael knew in London two years ago. Or else you wouldn't be calling to warn him. Me. Us." "So he owned up to that one." Rebecca couldn't tell whether Colin were amused or relieved. "Aye, the very same. She left her job as publicity director at the British Museum to form the film company." "Sheila-bloody-Fitzgerald is what Michael called her." "I'm not surprised. It's you he...." Colin managed a genuine laugh this time. "Well, you know your own business." Rebecca took a deep breath. "I certainly hope so. I'll break the news to him. That's not the only thing I have to warn him about."

About the Author

Lillian Stewart Carl lives in a book-lined cloister cleverly disguised as a tract house in Texas. She's studied history and mythology all of her life, and has traveled extensively. Her books are rooted as deeply in historical reality as in her own wry and wicked imagination.

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