by Irene Hannon
After discarding the remnants of their lunch in a trash container the construction company had installed, he looked over at her. She was deep in conversation with a middle-aged man as she led him over to the excavation site. While he watched, a gust of wind whipped past, ruffling her hair.
She had nice hair. Full, soft-looking, a slight wave in the ends that brushed her shoulders. It was the kind of hair that called out to be touched and . . .
Suppressing those inappropriate thoughts, he turned away.
Get a grip, McGregor. You hardly know the woman. You’ve laid the groundwork, given her hints you’re interested. The ball’s in her court now. Let her have some space, or despite what she said, you might scare her off.
Not a risk he wanted to take.
So he’d follow his advice—and hope someday in the not-too-distant future she’d explain how her reasons for making a dramatic change in lifestyle were similar to his. Did they include wanting time for a relationship? What was the incident she’d referenced that had triggered her return home? And why take a small-town police chief job when she was clearly qualified to do more?
His cell began to vibrate, also calling him back to duty after their impromptu lunch.
As he talked to Mitch about a follow-up interview for yesterday’s robbery, however, his attention was focused more on questions about a certain female police chief than on the conversation with his colleague.
He had no answers—yet.
But one thing was clear.
Buried bones weren’t the only mystery on this construction site.
In her peripheral vision, Lisa kept tabs on Mac while she explained the scenario to Dave Brennan, the tree expert from Missouri Botanical Garden. He asked a few questions, then joined Barbara in the excavation trench. With her assistance, he sawed off a section of root, stood, and moved aside to examine it.
As he wandered off a couple of minutes later to look at some nearby trees, Mac rejoined her. He shaded his eyes and glanced at Dave, who was now getting up close and personal with an evergreen-type tree. “Did you get any kind of reading from him yet?”
“No . . . but he didn’t say the task was impossible. I’m deeming that a hopeful sign.”
“Did he give any indication how long this might take? I wouldn’t mind hanging around a few minutes to hear his thoughts, but that’s about as long as I can push it.”
Even as Mac asked the question, the man was circling back toward them.
“Uh-oh. That was fast.” Lisa squinted at him as he approached, her stomach kinking. If her tree expert didn’t come through for them with a time frame, the odds of making an ID were going to nose-dive.
When the horticulturist joined them, she did a quick introduction.
The man shook Mac’s hand. “As I was telling the chief here, this is the most unusual call I’ve ever had. Mostly I deal with dead trees, not dead bodies.” The man darted them a nervous smile, then flicked a quick look at the bones Barbara and her intern continued to extract from the tentacle-like roots.
“I realize we could be grasping at straws, but as I explained, the anthropologist isn’t finding much, if anything, that will help us determine how long these bones have been here.” A shaft of sunlight peeked through the dark clouds, and Lisa shaded her eyes. “We’re hoping you can give us more to go on. Otherwise, this person could remain a Jane Doe.”
“I can try—but keep in mind this isn’t an exact science.”
“Understood.” The breeze kicked up, ruffling her hair, and she tucked it out of the way behind her ear.
“Let’s start with what I can tell you for sure. These roots belong to an eastern red cedar tree.” He held up the section of root he’d removed. “Those are the evergreens you see growing haphazardly in this area among the smaller deciduous saplings. I’d guess this piece of land was once more open and surrounded by those hardwoods and pines.” He swept his hand toward the tall perimeter trees around the newer-growth area.
“So how did these cedars get here?”
“Birds. They eat the cedar berries and leave calling cards everywhere. That’s one of the reasons cedars can become invasive. They’re often the first species to populate cleared land. They also like open rocky woods—and with the limestone in evidence here”—he indicated some outcroppings of rock—“they’d be very much at home in this spot.”
Lisa studied the root in his hand. “How can you be certain that belongs to a cedar?”
“Their roots are shallow and fibrous. And in this kind of rocky terrain, they tend to spread widely. Plus, the smell is an excellent clue.”
He held it out, and she took a whiff. “I see what you mean. Reminds me of my grandmother’s cedar closet.”
“Right. As for how long ago this body was buried, I can’t give you a precise answer. But I can tell you, based on the growth rings in this root, that these bones have been undisturbed for at least fifteen years. It’s possible they’ve been here a lot longer, of course, since we have no way of knowing when the roots started to grow into the bones.”
No matter. They had a time frame. Rough, perhaps, but more than they’d had before.
“So you’re saying there’s no chance the burial could have happened less than fifteen years ago?”
“Not unless someone dug under existing roots to try to fool a horticulturist who might count rings.”
The chance of that was zero to none.
Lisa exhaled. “That’s a tremendous help. Thank you.”
“Glad to be of service.” He extracted a card from his pocket and handed it to her. “If any other questions come up, don’t hesitate to call. Nice to meet you both.” After shaking hands with the two of them, he returned to his car.
Mac turned to her. “That may be the best lead yet.”
“I agree.”
“You’ll keep me in the loop?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon.”
She watched him walk away, lifting her hand in farewell when he reached his car. Then she shifted her attention back to the excavation site. Barbara and her assistant had made remarkable progress in freeing the skeleton from the earthen tomb that had concealed its dark secrets for too many years.
But things were looking up. She had a window of time now—which translated into a window of opportunity.
One she intended to maximize.
Whatever secrets had been buried in this grave were already being exposed to the light. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to appear. Not enough yet to get a handle on what had happened in this lonely field long ago, but she’d find more. Enough to begin fitting them together until a picture emerged.
And in the end, she’d solve this case.
Whatever it took.
5
You’re going to spoil that mangy mutt if you keep giving him snacks.”
Lisa stroked Tally’s head and fed him another biscuit from the stash she kept in her bottom desk drawer. “Now, Florence, everyone needs a little spoiling once in a while. And this is much healthier for him than those slices of summer sausage you slip him when you think I’m not looking.”
Florence Kelly straightened up to her full five-foot-three height, wiry form taut, spiky white hair quivering. “I’ll have you know I’ve only done that a time or two. Maybe three. And just for special occasions.”
As near as Lisa could remember, May 29 wasn’t an occasion of any sort, special or otherwise, but she let the transgression she’d witnessed last week pass. Could Tally help it if he was a loveable charmer?
After giving her canine companion a final pat, she leaned back in her chair. “So what’s been going on while I’ve been occupied with old bones and catching up on sleep?”
“Nothing the boys and I couldn’t handle.”
Lisa had no doubt of that. All the officers she’d hired were dedicated and smart, and as for their office manager—the woman might be Social-Security eligible, but she was one sharp cookie. Her white hair may have fooled a few people wh
o’d shown up at the station all bluster and indignation about one thing or another and assumed the octogenarian gatekeeper was a pushover . . . but no one made that mistake twice. Florence could put people in their place faster than Tally could snatch a dog biscuit from outstretched fingers.
“I always know the station is in capable hands when I’m not here. To be honest, I sometimes feel like I’m taking my salary under false pretenses.”
Florence adjusted the collar of her crisp blue shirt. Smoothed a hand down the hip of her knife-creased navy slacks. Sniffed. “Hardly. You’ve taught this crew a thing or two in the past few months. And some of the cases you’ve handled—that meth dealer, and the gang member who assaulted poor Mrs. Jenkins in the garden shop parking lot while she was buying her pansies, and those young punks who were spraying nasty graffiti all over town—those took some serious, big-city-detective smarts. You’ve more than earned your pay.”
High praise coming from the taciturn Florence.
“I appreciate that. Now tell me about the new papa and family.”
“They’re all doing fine. We rearranged the work schedule so he could spend some time with them for the first few days and see that his wife gets enough rest. Speaking of rest—did you really sleep in today?”
“Yes. Why else would I be strolling in at noon?”
“Good point, seeing as how you usually beat me here—not an easy feat, given my early-bird habits. Anything new on those bones?”
“Not yet. The anthropologist said she’d call with her preliminary findings as soon as possible, but it could take a . . .”
Her phone began to vibrate, and as she pulled it off her belt, Barbara’s name flashed on the display.
“As a matter of fact”—she held up the cell—“this is her.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then.”
As Florence exited, Lisa put the phone to her ear. “Barbara? It’s Lisa. I didn’t expect to hear from you this soon. You only finished excavating yesterday.”
“Having a whole skeleton to work with is making my job much easier—and faster. I won’t have the official report finished until early next week, but I can give you a few preliminaries based on measurements and X-rays.”
“I’ll take whatever you have.” She picked up a pen and pulled a pad of paper toward her.
“We’ve got a Caucasian female, age eighteen to twenty-five. Height, five-three to five-five. The depressed area in the right parietal bone is much more pronounced now that we’ve cleaned it up. There’s also a pattern of radiating fractures around the point of impact, and all three layers of the skull are shattered.”
“The lady got hit very hard.”
“That would be a safe conclusion.”
“Any other obvious injuries?”
“Fractures of the tibia and radius—that’s leg and arm for the layperson. The bones are completely healed, so they’re old injuries. I’m bringing in an odontologist to examine the teeth too. And I have quite a few more tests to run. We’re also going to send some samples to the lab in Texas. Given the condition of the remains, we’ll have to settle for mitochondrial rather than nuclear DNA. It’s a lot more resistant to destruction and can provide just as definitive a match on the maternal side.”
It took Lisa a few moments to catch up, even though she was scribbling as fast as she could. “Any better idea how long the woman’s been buried beyond what the horticulturist told us?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
Lisa sighed. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”
Tally looked her way, rose from the corner of the office he’d claimed for his own, and trotted over, resting his head on her knee as he sent her a soulful look.
Lisa gave him a pat. Amazing how the golden-haired pooch could pick up on moods.
“I’ll get my final report to you as soon as I finish my tests and the medical examiner weighs in on cause of death.”
“Thanks, Barbara.”
“Mac asked for a report as soon as I had anything too. Do you want to brief him, or shall I?”
A perfect excuse to call the handsome detective!
“I’ll fill him in.”
“That’s what I figured.”
Lisa let the woman’s amused observation pass without comment. “I’ll be watching for the final report.”
“I’m not certain it will give you a whole lot more to go on, but there are a few things I still need to sort through. Good luck with this.”
“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it.”
As Lisa ended the call, she pulled Mac’s card out of her pocket. It wasn’t as if there was any need for him to play an ongoing role in the case, despite the offer he’d made before they parted at the excavation site. She could have let Barbara handle what might turn out to be nothing more than a wrap-up call.
But if his willingness to assist was sincere rather than just polite, why not take advantage of it? On a case like this, a fresh perspective from a fellow detective could come in handy.
Besides, professional rationale aside, she liked talking to Mac.
In fact, she liked Mac.
Odd how a set of old bones had hooked her up with the most interesting man she’d met in quite a while.
Maybe ever.
Easing back in her chair, she tapped in his cell number.
He answered on the first ring with a curt, clipped command. “Hold.”
Not the most auspicious beginning for their conversation.
Though he continued to talk, his voice muffled as he barked out commands, she could distinguish only tone, not words—and it was focused and serious.
When he finally got back to her, his deep baritone remained no-nonsense and professional. “McGregor.”
“Mac . . . it’s Lisa Grant from Carson. Sounds like I caught you at a bad time.”
“Lisa.” A couple of seconds ticked by, and when he spoke again, he sounded much warmer—and welcoming. “Busy, not bad.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding.
“I heard from Barbara. She said you’d asked for an update too, so I offered to call you. We can catch up later.”
He hesitated. “That might be better. We just arrived at the scene of a homicide.”
“My victim has waited years for justice; she can wait until you have a free minute.”
“I’ll call you as soon as that happens. It could be a while.”
“I always have my cell. In the meantime, I’ll touch base with my favorite reporter, who’s been hounding me for an update.”
“Have fun.”
“Yeah. It’ll be the highlight of my day. Talk to you later.”
As she slowly slid the phone back on her belt, Tally looked up at her as if to say, “Everything okay now?”
She stroked his head and ruffled his ears. “The day just got brighter, my friend. Or it will, as soon as I deal with the press. Because I get to talk to Mac again later. Isn’t that great?”
Tally thumped his tail, swiped his tongue over her knuckles, and trotted back to curl up on his rug in the corner, happy and content.
Lisa grinned.
She could relate.
At the sudden vibration on his hip, Mac bit back a word he rarely used. What was with his phone today, anyway? It had been ringing all afternoon.
Maybe he could let this one roll.
Yanking the cell off his belt, he checked caller ID.
Blocked.
He weighed the phone in his hand. It could be a source for one of his cases who didn’t want to be identified.
Better take it.
After punching the talk button, he put the phone to his ear and turned away from the homicide scene. “McGregor.”
“Ditto.”
Mac frowned and cocked his head. It was hard to tell from that one-word greeting, but the guy on the other end of the line sure sounded like the middle McGregor brother.
“Lance?”
“Bingo.”
His adrenaline spiked. “Where are you? I
s everything okay?”
“Man, you are so predictable. Do you realize you follow the exact same script every time I call?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“In reverse order . . . I’m fine and I’m stateside.”
Mac’s lungs kicked back in and he loosened his grip on the cell. “Where stateside?”
“Where I usually am when I’m in the good old U.S. of A.”
That meant Fort Bragg, North Carolina . . . home of Delta Force.
“How long will you be here?”
“Hard to say.” Typical Delta Force answer. “But I have two weeks’ leave—and I’m free as a bird for the next seven days. Want some company? I’ve never been to St. Louis, and I wouldn’t mind scoping it out.”
A rare chance to hang out with his brother? Was he kidding?
“You know you’re always welcome.”
“Does this weekend work? I’m going to run over and see the folks first, then I could swing your way.”
“That’d be great. The apartment isn’t much to look at, and I still haven’t unpacked half my boxes, but you can crash on the couch.”
“Do you have room for one more?”
Mac blinked.
That was a first.
“You’re bringing a . . . friend?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. His name is Finn.”
Mac squinted at the ME’s van as it pulled away from the crime scene. “Finn’s with you?”
“Not yet, but he’ll be stateside by tomorrow. He’s looking for a change of scene too, after we pay a visit to the folks.”
All three McGregor brothers in the same place at the same time? When had that last occurred?
Too long ago to remember.
“Sounds like we’re about to have a long-overdue reunion.”
“Except we get to loaf while you work.” Lance snickered.
“I’ll take it anyway. You’re flying in, right? You need me to pick you up?”
“Nah. We’ll grab a rental. Look for us around noon on Saturday.”
“I should be at home, but if I’m not, I’ll leave a key with my neighbor on the right.”
“Man or woman?”
“Woman.”
“Single?”
