by Kathy Reichs
I forced myself to acknowledge the truth.
I’d uncovered the delicate bones of a human hand.
CHAPTER 24
Isnapped out of my trance.
My head whipped up.
“I’ve got bones here.”
“Where?” Ben dropped his shovel and peered over my shoulder. “Holy crap! You were right.”
Shelton’s response was less manly. Spotting the gruesome discovery, he yelled, “Grave, grave!” and scrambled from the pit.
Hiram took one look and promptly upchucked.
Both dropped to the grass, flushed and panting.
Only Ben kept his head. “They’re human, right?”
“Absolutely,” I confirmed. “I’m positive.” And I was. I’d seen enough diagrams of the human skeleton to recognize human carpals, metacarpals, and phalanges.
“Then we call the cops.” Ben’s tone was decisive. “Now.”
Practicality tempered my roiling emotions. “Yes. But first we have to be sure.”
Ben nodded. “How?”
“I want to see more than hand bones.” I took a deep breath. “I want to know exactly what’s buried here.”
“We find a freakin’ dead body, and y’all want to keep on digging?” Shelton’s alarm was escalating by the second. “That’s crazy!”
“It’s a police matter now,” Hi whined. “They’ll be pissed if you mess with a crime scene. Especially if that’s the Heaton girl.”
“Don’t say that!” I snapped. “We’ve no proof it’s her.” Inexplicably, I wanted to punch Hi like a speed bag.
“Silly me.” Hi held up both hands. “Let’s dig a little more. Maybe it’s someone else.”
Shelton and Ben eyed me, clearly surprised. I’d jumped on Hi for stating the obvious.
Easy. What did you think you would find?
I took a deep breath. Admitted to myself. As illogical as it was, I didn’t want to accept that Hi was right. Not yet.
“I’m sorry, Hi. That wasn’t fair. I just need to be sure.”
“No sweat,” Hi replied. “I don’t think before I talk.” But he still looked wary, like a cat circling a sleeping dog.
Ben and Shelton said nothing. But I could read their faces. They, too, were convinced we’d found Katherine Heaton.
“I know what you’re all thinking,” I said. “Just let me examine the bones.”
Skeptical looks.
“The cops won’t believe us without proof,” I said. “Not those Folly Beach yokels. We need pictures of the grave, the skeleton, everything we find.”
“We can’t mess anything up,” Shelton said.
“We’ll be careful,” I promised. “We’ll document as we work. That way we preserve the evidence in case monkeys disturb the site after we leave.”
Reluctantly, the boys agreed.
I formulated a plan. Ben and I would dig inside the pit. The ’fraidy cats would stay topside, Shelton hauling dirt, Hi capturing images on his iPhone.
Two more hours of steady, painstaking excavation exposed a fully articulated skeleton. Darkened to the color of very strong tea, the bones looked like relics from another time.
One glance extinguished any lingering doubts.
The remains were human, and buried over four feet down.
I squatted for an up close look at the skull.
“Oh Jesus!”
I pointed at a small hole centered in the forehead. The defect was sharp-edged and circular.
“Holy shit. Is that a bullet hole?” asked Ben.
“I think so.” My voice trembled slightly.
The boys watched as I eyeballed the skeleton from top to bottom.
“There’s no trauma on any of the other bones. I’ll try to determine gender.”
“How?” Hi asked.
Lying sideways in the dirt, I observed the right pelvic blade. “The overall shape is broad.” I twisted my head so I could see the belly side of the bone. “The pubic portion is long, and the angle below, where the right half meets the left, is shaped like a U, not a V. Those are all female traits.”
Recalling a tip from Aunt Tempe’s book, I searched for the sciatic notch. Without displacing the bone, I stuck my thumb inside. It had plenty of room for wiggling.
An emphatic groan from the boys.
“Don’t be babies,” I said. “Sometimes you have to touch the bones.”
“Well?” Ben asked.
“Female.”
“How old was she?” Shelton was sounding maybe a hair calmer.
Crawling to the skull, I noted the sutures, the thin, squiggly lines between the individual bones. The ones I could see were wide open.
I peeked into the mouth.
“Healthy dentition. Wisdom teeth not fully erupted.”
I moved back down the torso. “Little caps at the ends of the long bones solidify as growth is completed. It’s called epiphyseal fusion. The cap of her femur hasn’t fused completely. Same with the clavicle.”
“The what?” Ben aked.
“The collarbone.” Shelton and Hi, in unison.
“From what I can see without moving anything,” I said, “she was young.”
“How young?” Hi.
“Less than twenty years old.” I felt numb.
“Like Katherine Heaton,” Shelton whispered.
Attaching a name to the bones made the tragedy real. This wasn’t an experiment, an adventure for a group of high school science junkies. I was kneeling in the lonely, unmarked grave of a young woman.
A teenager long ago murdered, buried, and forgotten.
“It’s time to call the cops.” Hi’s voice held not a trace of humor.
I nodded. “The sun is setting. Take as many pictures as you can before dark.”
Ben, Shelton, and I started gathering equipment. I was pulling a trowel from the earth when I heard a soft clink.
And knew right away.
Sifting dirt with my fingers, I discovered what my blade had struck.
“Holy Hell.”
The others turned to look.
“This should close the loop.” I held my find high. It glinted in the long ginger rays of the setting sun.
A second dog tag, twin to the one in my pocket.
Legible.
Francis P. Heaton.
The last light of day faded to gray.
I wanted to cry. To open the floodgates and unleash a torrent of sobs. But I wouldn’t. Not in this lifetime. Not ever.
Clamping my jaw, I backhanded a tear from my cheek. I added the newly unearthed tag to my Ziploc, and started shoving tools into the duffel. Stakes. String. A shovel. A trowel.
The boys were uncomfortable in the way males are when confronted by female emotion. Unsure how to react, what to say, they simply ignored me.
Sorrow coursed through my body. Katherine Heaton was dead. I’d uncovered her bones. There would be no magical happy ending.
Inevitably, the sorrow congealed into fury. Then hardened into resolve.
The crime was official: murder most foul. Now it was time to expose the murderer.
I vowed silently, speaking to Katherine. Someone will pay for this outrage. Four decades of time will make no difference. Justice will prevail.
My promise was cut short.
Men with guns had come to kill us.
CHAPTER 25
“You guys hear that?” Shelton asked.
“Hear what?” Hi froze, iPhone extended toward the pit.
“Listen.”
Everyone went still, ears sifting the forest sounds. Night had fallen. My eyes weren’t ready. I could barely see beyond my hand.
At first, nothing but crickets, frogs, the whine of a mosquito.
Then a familiar riot of hoots and barks.
As my vision adjusted, I noticed movement among the branches at the clearing’s edge.
“Something spooked the monkeys,” Ben said.
The primates scurried through the trees, panicked, uncertain of the source of danger.
Young males barked and lunged in our direction, then turned and performed for the forest at their backs.
“They seem confused,” Hi noted.
“The males are giving threat displays,” I said. “But they don’t know where to direct them.”
“Threatened by what?” Ben asked.
“Can we please get out of here?” Shelton had definitely had enough. “It’s pitch dark, monkeys are screaming at us, and we’re standing next to an open grave.”
“Calm down,” Ben said. “I brought a flashlight—”
Clank. Clank.
“What was that?” I whispered.
The noise was not natural to the forest. Somewhere close by metal had struck metal.
“The dogs?” Hi sounded almost as hyper as Shelton. “Somewhere nearby?”
“No,” I whispered. “We’d never hear the pack moving through the trees. And what could they clang?”
Swish.
Thwak!
A string of curses followed.
My heart jumped a gear. Someone was out there. And we stood, tools in hand, over the recently uncovered skeleton of a murder victim.
Instinctively, the four of us knotted close.
The startled primates disappeared into the foliage. Whoever was out there had accidentally driven them to our location, warning us.
The woods went silent.
“What should we do?” mouthed Shelton. A three-quarter moon was rising and I could just make out my companions. Beyond them, nothing but black.
I gestured for silence. We needed to pinpoint the source of the noise. Pulse thumping, I held my breath and listened.
Pop!
My head swiveled.
Pop!
One-eighty from the first.
Shit! More than one!
Questions winged in my brain.
Why no lights? Why two directions? How many? Who?
LIRI personnel never prowled the island at night. Sneaking through the woods without a flashlight was not normal behavior.
Hi was on the same page.
“This is wrong! Let’s bail!”
“Quiet!” Ben hissed.
Too late.
“Over there!” A male voice. Deep. “In the clearing!”
Branches crashed. Feet pounded. Three beams flared to life, probed the darkness. A motor fired up.
The beams closed in.
“Run!” I shout-hissed. “To the boat!”
I didn’t know where the path was or how to find it. But I understood one thing with bone-deep certainty. Capture wasn’t an option.
With only a vague sense of where Dead Cat lay, I pounded for the tree line.
Three figures emerged from the trees, black cutouts against the blacker forest. No way these men were scientists.
One figure raised a hand and pointed in my direction. Then he froze, arms straight out and clasped in front of his face.
Crack! Crack!
Overhead, a branch exploded. A lone monkey screamed and bolted in panic.
GUN! GUN! GUN! GUN!
My brain, understanding bullets, surrendered the Tory Machine to its primitive instincts. Spurred by a massive dose of adrenaline, I sprinted into the night.
Though I never finished the story, you know what happened next.
My blind flight succeeded, and I found Dead Cat Beach. Shelton, Ben, and I crouched inside Sewee praying for Hi to appear.
Terrified, my thoughts went nasty places. A thousand questions jockeyed for attention.
What were armed thugs doing on Loggerhead? Why did they shoot at us? Did they know about the body? Did they know who we were?
One thought dominated: Someone just tried to kill me.
Murder me. Dead.
A murderer shot a gun at my head, trying to end my life.
The reality threatened to trigger my panic button.
You escaped. You’re okay.
But not everyone had made it to the boat. Where was Hi? Seconds ticked by. I barely dared to breathe.
“Start the motor!” Shelton was trembling.
“They’ll hear it,” said Ben.
“They’ve already got Hi!” Shelton sounded near hysteria. “Hi’s been shot!”
I shook Shelton by the shoulders. “Get it together! Hi will come to the beach. He knows where the boat is.” To Ben. “Can we at least pull the anchor?”
Ben did as I requested, then hopped into chest-deep water to steady the boat.
“Where the hell is he? He always gets lost!”
Shelton had a point. Hi could be anywhere. The longer we waited, the more uncertain our fate.
And another thing worried me.
I’d left my archaeology kit by the grave.
I searched my memory. The bag was not monogrammed and contained only equipment. There was nothing to tie it to me.
Minutes dragged by. Five. Seven. A thousand. We couldn’t stay there forever. Sooner or later, we’d have to go.
As I was losing hope, Hi appeared, his pale face barely discernible in the moonlight. He darted from the undergrowth, eyes frantically seeking the boat.
Despite Ben’s efforts, Sewee had floated some distance offshore. We splashed our hands in the water to get Hi’s attention. His head whipped seaward as he dropped to a crouch, prepared for fight or flight. Shelton and I waved madly in the dark.
Relief spreading his face, Hi crossed the sand and launched into the surf. Ben pulled himself aboard, then reached down to drag Hi over the gunwale.
“You didn’t leave!” Hi gasped and spit seawater. “Oh thank God! Thank God, thank God, thank God!”
“No way, buddy,” said Shelton. “Never considered it!”
“You’re lying, but I don’t care!” Hi flopped onto the deck. “You guys are the best. I was sure you’d be gone.”
Ben turned the ignition and the engine gunned to life. Anyone close would have heard.
We watched, terrified.
No one emerged from the woods.
Ben dropped the hammer and we shot from the island, leaving pale ribbons of froth in our wake.
CHAPTER 26
“We should go to the police right now!”
Hi said it for the third time. He sat with his arms crossed, back pressed to the bunker wall. “We’re in way over our heads.”
“With what?” Shelton asked. “You lost the only evidence we had.”
For a beat, Hi just stared. Then he spoke slowly. “I just ran through pitch-black woods, at night, while killers shot at me. Then I had to dive into the ocean and swim to the boat.” He spread his hands wide. “I’m very sorry that, somehow, I lost track of my phone!”
“I know, I know,” Shelton said. “But you had the pictures. Now we don’t have anything to show the cops.”
“There’s a freakin’ human skeleton in the woods!” Hi exploded. “I think that’ll work, don’t you?”
After our escape, Ben had steered Sewee straight to the bunker. We had a lot to discuss, and needed privacy.
I sat on the floor stroking Coop’s back. The last saline bag was dry, so I removed the needle from his paw and took off the bell collar. He began gnawing the hated thing with relish.
Coop looked better, had even eaten some solid food. His energy level was up. I tried to stay detached but couldn’t. Coop’s improvement helped balance the horrors of the evening.
“Why tonight?” Ben asked. “Tomorrow’s fine. I don’t want to bother my Dad this late for no reason.”
Hi pulled a face. “For no reason? Did you miss the human bone display?” He looked around, incredulous, expecting support. But on this point I agreed with Ben.
“Ben’s right,” I said. “If we confess tonight, our parents will make us go over everything a hundred times. Then we’ll have to ride down to Folly Beach and convince the cops as well. I’m too exhausted to answer a barrage of questions right now. The morning will be okay.”
“Does anyone even work a night shift at Folly PD?” Ben asked. “They’re a small department.”
No one knew. Folly Beach was a sleepy town.
“Those guys aren’t exactly CSI,” said Shelton. “Without proof, they might not believe us. Even with our parents.”
I nodded. “They’ll be more receptive in the morning.”
“Fine,” said Hi. “I guess Heaton’s not going anywhere.”
The instant the words were out, Hi cringed, regret clear on his face. I waved off the impending apology. Everyone was tired.
“We need to get our stories straight,” I said. “We should tell the truth as much as possible, but steer clear of the lab break-in. Let’s just say the first tag was legible when we found it.”
The dog tags!
I rifled my pockets. Empty. Where could they be?
Oh no.
I remembered. I put them in my duffel. Which was still out in the woods.
“Shit! I left the dog tags with my tools.”
“So what?” said Ben. “They’ll use DNA to ID the bones.”
I shook my head. “If the police see the first tag, they might notice that someone has cleaned it off. Karsten definitely would.”
“Did we clean the sonicator before we split?” asked Shelton. “If not, that could lead to some bad connections.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll have to guide the police to the grave,” said Ben. “When we get to the clearing, go straight for your bag. The adults will all be gaga over the dead body. You’ll have a free moment.”
“Good idea,” Shelton said. “The cops don’t need both tags anyway.”
“One minor thing.” Hi’s finger tapped the bench. “Who the hell just tried to kill us!?!”
The subject I’d been avoiding.
“Take it easy,” Ben cautioned.
“Take it easy?” Hi’s voice hit an all-time high. “A death squad just tried to off me! I’m not ‘taking it easy.’ What the hell were they doing there?”
“Were we followed?” Shelton asked. “Seems impossible. We took our own boat.”
“Maybe the encounter was random,” Ben said. “Monkey poachers?”
I hadn’t considered that. There must be a black market for stolen monkeys. Could the answer be that simple?
Shelton shook his head. “One guy yelled, ‘Over there!’ like we were the target.”
“Not necessarily us,” I said. “Maybe he meant the clearing itself. That field could be a monkey hotspot.”
