“Yes. He loves those. Actually, I do, too. Remind me to show you the ones he brought with him from a Spanish galleon site we worked on.”
She took several samples of dirt from around the sides of the coffin and sealed them in glass bottles the size of baby food jars while McBride labeled each with a marker on the side of the jar.
“He said you do sketches.”
“Yes. I can do the reconstructions, too, but I’m not nearly as good as the artist who did the ones from the galleon.”
“Elaine and I’d love to have a sketch of the people here.”
“Sure.” She stored the samples in two boxes, one for Peter Willis and another for the archaeologists. “Now, we’ll take the bones and put them in anatomical position on the table.” She gently lifted the skull from its place and set it on a donut ring. “I’m also going to take a soil sample from the auditory meatus. You never know what you can find sometimes.” She used a thin wooden Popsicle stick she had fashioned herself to take the sample from the ear canal and stored it in a vial. Whether excavating around bones or poking around in the skull, Lindsay preferred to use wooden tools to metal ones when soil conditions allowed—less of a chance of doing damage.
“Was that a flashback earlier?” McBride asked. “Elaine told me what happened to you.”
“I suppose that’s what they are. I’ve had a couple of small episodes like that since I’ve been here. They haven’t lasted long.”
Below the skull set the atlas, the vertebra that holds up the head, like Atlas holding the world, and the axis on which the head is able to turn.
“Are you seeing anyone about them?”
“I’ve had my brain scanned. The doctors say everything is just fine.”
“I mean a psychiatrist.”
“No. I’ll deal with it myself.” Lindsay picked up a small arc of a bone. “Here’s the hyoid bone. It’s intact. Good chance she wasn’t strangled.”
“I don’t suppose the argument would work that you wouldn’t take out your own appendix, or defend yourself in court?”
“No. It’s not the same. Medical doctors and lawyers possess expertise I don’t have.”
Phil McBride smiled as he placed the rest of the cervical vertebrae on the table. “You’re a psychiatrist, too?”
“No, but I am an expert on myself . . . at least I know more about me than anyone else.”
“You’re an independent sort, aren’t you?”
“I used to be. Now, I don’t know. Now I seem to need people watching out for me.”
“Elaine also told me about the torn page from the Edgar Allen Poe book someone sent you. Do you think it’s related to the attempt on your life? Are those people here, you think?”
Phil McBride’s brow made deep lines of concern, yet his voice was calm. Good bedside manner, Lindsay thought, as she picked up the sternum, which over the years had come to rest on the anterior surface of the thoracic vertebrae, then had slid off to the side.
“We’ll take the vertebrae and ribs out first, then remove the shoulder girdle and bones of the arm.” Lindsay gave the breastbone a quick look before she set it down on the table. “I’ve been trying to tell myself that what’s happened to me here was just pranks, but I’ve been avoiding the obvious. Denial goes a long way with me. After what happened today, I think it’s time to face it. They aren’t going to make me afraid of bones.”
“I haven’t meant to pry,” he said. “Elaine and I like you. After the way she was treated by Claire Burke, Elaine very much appreciated your treating her with respect. By the way, I haven’t seen Claire around. Is she still here?”
“No, and it worries me. She left in the middle of the night a couple of nights ago, and no one has heard from her.”
Phil raised his eyebrows. “You expect something might have happened to her?”
“I don’t know. Drew says she’s behaved like this before when things got uncomfortable for her. But . . . I don’t know. Not a lot that’s been happening fits together. But I’m going to make it fit.” The skull and vertebrae lay on the table like a head with a long tail. “Notice that the epiphyseal ring on the vertebrae are almost, but not quite, fused.”
“I see that. What would that make her in years?”
“Probably under twenty, over sixteen.”
McBride shook his head. “So young.”
Lindsay took out each rib, lightly running her fingers over each before setting it on the table.
“What are you feeling for?”
“Any nicks or cuts that might indicate injury or any other abnormalities.”
“Do you appear in court a lot as an expert witness?”
“A fair amount.”
“Is that why you don’t want to see a psychiatrist?”
“It’s true that an attorney will jump on anything that might weaken my credibility. However, that’s not the reason. I believe that if I am to really get over this, I have to do it myself.”
“If you change your mind, I can give you the names of some good people.”
“Thanks, but I hope it won’t come to that.”
She and McBride had just placed the final phalange of the left foot on the table when Lewis and Posnansky came in with x-rays of the cemetery coffin.
Posnansky hung them for Lindsay to look at. “Great images,” he said. “You can see the inner coffin.”
“That lends some credibility to your hypothesis about the trash pit burial,” said Lewis. “They did use wooden coffins in proper burials.”
Lindsay examined the clear image of the skull and shoulders. “Nice shot. Looks like we may get some material besides bones. Maybe some hair and tissue. With that kind of preservation, you may have an airtight container.”
“We’re very hopeful,” said Posnansky.
“Can you tell us anything about this person from the x-rays?” Lewis asked.
“My first impression is male. But we’ll have to wait.” She pointed to the bottom of one of the x-rays. “Looks like we may have a piece of jewelry here. Is that what it looks like to you?”
Lewis and Posnansky got close to the picture. “Like some kind of bow,” said Posnansky.
“That’s what it looks like to me,” agreed Lindsay.
“Isn’t that what you’d find with a female?”
“Maybe,” said Lindsay. “Or it might be something a female would put into a coffin.”
“Would the two of you like to break for lunch?” asked Lewis. “They’re setting up right now.”
Lindsay started to shake her head. Work was going to be piling up on her when the remains under the trash pit coffin and the cemetery coffin were ready. But a glance at McBride told her that he would welcome lunch.
“I’d like to take a break and call Elaine. See how she’s coming with the diary hunt.”
In the mess tent it looked like everyone except those working on the cemetery coffin had arrived for lunch. Mike Gentry, the repulsive man who had approached her, was helping serve. As Lindsay made herself a sandwich from the fresh-baked ham she had smelled early that morning, an idea occurred to her. Was it an idea, or a memory? It felt like an idea. If it was a memory, it was still deeply hidden in her mysterious subconscious. She looked around for Luke and spotted him in line only two people behind her. He was never very far away.
She waited until he had his meal in hand and pulled him aside. “I have something I want you to do.”
“What’s that?”
“The guy serving food, the one who calls himself Mike Gentry . . .”
“You don’t think that’s his name?”
“Maybe, but I would like you to take a photograph of him—without him knowing it—and drive up to the hospital where I was treated. I’ll give you the address. Show the nurse.” Lindsay hesitated. “Damn, I can’t remember her name. I’ll go make a call and find out. Anyway, show her the photograph and see if she recognizes him.”
“You think he may be the one who tried to take you from the hospital?”
; “Yes.”
“Does he look familiar?”
“No, but my memory of that time is hazy-to-none. If he is the one, I can have the sheriff hold him.”
Luke nodded. “Probably get him to spill his guts. Good plan, except for the part about me leaving you here.”
“I’ll be fine. Everyone knows Lewis asked the army guys to look out for me. Luke, I know this Mike person has something to do with what happened to me, and I know Drew and her husband have been up to something here, and I’ve seen Drew’s husband talking to him on a couple of occasions.”
“Yeah, me too,” said Luke.
“Eric Van Horne is not the type to associate with the working class unless he has business with them.”
“Makes sense, but why would they be so blatant? Would they count on your not remembering? Would Van Horne risk being seen with him?”
“When I told Drew and the others what had happened to me, I explained how I had no memory of the period during my spell of amnesia. I think his running into me in the mess tent was a test.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Luke, I want to be free of this. Please do this for me.”
Reluctantly, Luke agreed, and Lindsay went to the artifact tent to get the camera, eating her sandwich along the way. She stopped by the crew working on the barn.
“How’re things going?” asked Adam.
“I just saw some x-rays of the cemetery coffin. Looks good. May be airtight. How about you guys?”
“With all of us working on it, we ought to have this area excavated in no time. It’s good to be doing something besides watching and being told we’re in the way. Lindsay, are you being stalked? If you are, we want to know about it.”
“You got that right.” Powell dropped his shovel and came over, followed by Byron, Joel, and Dillon.
“We heard that Lewis asked them to watch out for you.” Dillon motioned his head in the direction of the compound.
“I’ve had a few things happen while I’ve been here.”
“Why didn’t you mention it? We’d be on the lookout. You don’t suspect any of us, do you?” asked Powell.
“No,” Lindsay lied, well, only half-lied. She suspected Drew for sure. Maybe someone else, but standing facing them, they all seemed innocent and concerned. She wanted to tell them about Mike Gentry, but she couldn’t be sure that no one among them was involved. “I asked the sheriff not to come out and question anyone here. I didn’t want him to meet Trent.”
“Good plan,” said Byron, smoothing his beard. “That’s all we’d need is a rural sheriff getting wind of Trent.”
“We’ll keep an eye out for you,” said Adam. “If you have any problems, give us a holler.”
“Or bang on your floor,” added Dillon.
“I will. Thanks.”
“You think it might have been Claire? She sure had it in for you,” said Adam. “Not that she didn’t have it in for all of us.”
“She did,” agreed Dillon. “Have you had anything happen since she left?”
“No. No, I haven’t. But Claire was getting so much better the past few days before she left and . . .” Lindsay looked out over the site. “You guys better get some lunch before it’s picked over.” For a moment Lindsay thought of telling them about Drew poisoning the well with Claire, so to speak, but decided against it. Better to keep that information to herself.
“I smelled a ham baking this morning,” said Byron. “Those reserve guys will have it picked to the bone, unless we hurry.”
“Thanks for your support, guys. I really appreciate it.”
“You just remember it if an application to graduate school comes across your desk,” said Adam.
Lindsay laughed. “I will, indeed.”
The guys broke for lunch and Lindsay proceeded to the artifact tent where Marina was absorbed in cataloging artifacts.
“Hi, Marina. Lunch is being served up.”
“Oh, that ham, I’ll bet. I’d better go get some.”
“I’d like to borrow the Polaroid. We have one, don’t we?”
“Sure. It’s always useful to have an on-the-spot photo.” Marina slipped off her stool and retrieved the camera from an overhead cabinet.
“My thoughts exactly. I’m going to have some really fancy photos of the bones, but I’d like to have some to take up to bed with me tonight to look at. They have x-rays of the cemetery coffin, by the way. Come by the tent and look at them after lunch.”
“Really? Who’s in it, do you know?” Marina handed her the camera.
Lindsay shook her head. “Male, maybe. He’s in an inner wooden coffin, unlike the one from the trash pit. Elaine McBride is trying to acquire some other volumes of Hope Foute’s diary. I’m hoping they’ll contain information we need.”
“The diaries, the cabin, and the coffins. This is going to be so neat when it’s written up. Lindsay, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Lewis mentioned that you do facial reconstructions—drawings mostly.” Lindsay nodded. “I’d like to acquire that skill. You think when you’re free, you can show me how? Maybe let me work with you on the skulls here?”
“Sure. With your talent, you’ll pick it up easily. It’s a matter of following the structure of the bones. There are a few tricks, like knowing how long to make the nose.”
“Yeah, that’s what I want to know.”
“I’ll let you know when I do the sketches. Oh, looks like we may get some tissue samples with the second coffin.”
“I’m not sure I want to see that.”
“It’ll be like a mummy.”
“That would be better.”
“We’ll probably find some bits of clothing, buttons or something from the cemetery coffin.”
Lindsay walked with Marina back to the compound. When they parted, Lindsay snagged Luke and shoved the camera into his hands. “Don’t let him see you taking a picture. I’m going up to the house to call the hospital.”
“Better hurry, before I have second thoughts about this.”
Lindsay took him at his word and hurried off. As she approached the house, she heard hammering toward the rear. She cut around to the back and found Mr. Laurens constructing a device that looked like it was going to be a box, about a foot and a half square.
“That for me?”
Mr. Laurens grinned, showing missing premolars. “You the one getting the tiny sandbox?”
“Yep, that’s me. Thanks for making it.”
“It’s what you all pay me for. I’ve got you a bag of sand to go in it, too. Didn’t buy any little buckets, though.” He laughed. Someone opened the door, and the aroma of food wafted past them. “Lord, don’t that smell good?”
Lindsay agreed. She must tell Mrs. Laurens what a good job she was doing. On the way in the back door she met someone coming out with a container of food to take to the site.
“Hand me that clean apron on the rack there," Mrs. Laurens’ voice came from the kitchen. “I’ve done spilled gravy all over this one.”
Lindsay took a full-length apron from the rack and picked up a jacket with it that had dropped to the floor. She reached to hang it up, when she noticed that one of the jackets on the rack was one she’d seen Mike Gentry wearing in the cool mountain mornings. She took the apron into the kitchen.
“Oh, is that you, Lindsay? I thought it was Jimmy coming in. Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Laurens took off her soiled apron, tucked it in a corner, and tied the other one around her.
“I wanted to tell you how good the food is. I know this isn’t exactly what you signed up for.”
“No, but it’s always good to rise to a challenge. I’m just glad we’ve fixed enough for all those people.”
Lindsay slipped back to the coatrack and in one swift movement pulled the jacket off the peg, rolled it up, and tucked it under her arm.
Chapter 34
The Guy Likes Gold
LINDSAY WALKED AS calmly as she could through the kitchen with Mike Gentry’s jacket tucked under her arm. When she reached the di
ning room, her intention to dash through to the downstairs bathroom was checked. Two of Mrs. Laurens’ daughters were busy at the dining room table organizing the food to be taken to the site.
She could hardly make a mad dash past them without at least arousing their curiosity. She muttered something she hoped was a compliment on the food as she walked past them to the far side, finally making it to the reception hall and across to the bathroom. The door was locked.
“Just a minute,” someone called out.
Lindsay didn’t wait around. She bolted up the stairs and locked herself in her room. Her hands shook as she unzipped the right front pocket of the jacket. Not much there for her effort—Gentry’s car keys and a cheap folding knife. She opened the knife and looked at the blade. It was dull.
Once when she was sitting by a campfire with her uncle and her grandfather deep in the Kentucky woods, eating the fish they’d caught and fried, her uncle told her, “You can judge a man by how he keeps his knife. A dull knife says something about a man.”
She never understood what exactly, but then she was only five at the time. She still didn’t know what it meant. She folded the knife and picked up the keys. Dodge, it said on the key ring. Unfortunately, it didn’t say green truck.
The left pocket contained a paper clip, spray breath freshener, five gold dollars, and a gold piece of eight. The inside pocket was empty. No, it had something in the very corner. She dug down and brought it out. A tooth, or rather, a temporary cap made of gold—a molar.
The guy likes gold.
That was it. Not much for the mad dash she’d made. She started to put the items back in his pockets, when it hit her—the piece of eight, pirate treasure. Hadn’t Mrs. Laurens mentioned that Mary Susan Tidwell had a gold treasure coin? Mrs. Laurens had made a rubbing of it as a child. Lindsay grabbed a piece of paper and rummaged through her things for a pencil.
For a second she considered making a mold. How long would that take? Four minutes for each side. No, better not risk him finding the jacket missing. A rubbing would have to do.
Airtight Case Page 32
