toward her. As the big dog approached, Emma smiled and looked up, expecting to see
Shane. She waited, but he didn't appear.
"Where's your master, girl?" She crouched down and brought the dog's warm body
close, drawing comfort from the powerful animal's strength. "Well, you're here to keep
me safe, so I'd better get cracking." She patted the dog and straightened.
Maybe she would do some additional investigating and discover if the fireplace
held any secrets. Thick tangles of rose bush vines and scrub brush obscured the
brickwork. Retrieving her shovel and trowel, she headed toward the fireplace.
Emma started removing the heavy overgrowth. She cursed when a rose thorn
managed to poke through her heavy canvas gloves. Ignoring the sting in her finger, she
moved aside the debris and imagined the cabin's design in the early part of the century.
Made of logs, the cabin lay against the sheer side of the south ridge. The rock
fireplace was well preserved, but the chimney had deteriorated into a tumbled mess.
She'd never excavated a hearth like this and she stared at it for several moments,
wishing for once for Grant's expert advice. Then she thought better of that scenario. She
didn't want to see Grant ever again. At this point it didn't seem like he would reappear,
so she might get her wish.
She glanced into the hearth. She squinted. Someone had dug into the back of the
hearth and made a depression. A bricked-in hole, about three times the width of a
man's shoulders, marred the rock. Would Sadie have hidden things in that hole when
she didn't have a fire going? Because the hearth backed up against the rock, it certainly
worked well. At the same time, it didn't make sense. If she placed anything of value
back there, then started a fire at some point, she'd either set the objects on fire or melt
them.
"How strange," she said. Leaning into the large hearth opening again for a closer
look, she sighed. "Would you look at that?"
Sure enough, someone had made an aperture in the rock, a few feet across, blocked
by smaller rocks. Very strange. If Grant had noticed this before, he hadn't spoken of it.
The stones didn't look old—there was no mortar of any kind between them. They'd
been stuffed in here recently.
Excited and moving swiftly, she pried at the stones with her gloved hands until
they started to loosen. Her muscles ached with the effort. While she was in good shape,
these stones were heavy. Maybe she should wait for Shane's help. Despite this thought,
she plowed forward with the work. She tugged on one rock, grunting at the weight,
then pulled it out. One by one she yanked the rocks out until all three dropped to the
ground near her with a thud. She panted, her breath coming hard. She'd probably
broken several nails, but she was used to that in archaeology. Her muscles protested,
her body shaking a bit under the strain.
Then it hit her, and she staggered backward from the hole.
A scent, rancid and unfamiliar, flowed from the opening.
A primal foreboding welled, daring her to look into the unknown. Brushing aside
her initial indecision, she looked inside anyway. Shadows cloaked the opening, but she
could see something wedged not far from the gap. She wrinkled her nose at the smell.
She'd personally experienced the unpleasant aroma of air thousands of years old
rolling from an Egyptian tomb. A different smell, granted, but no less repulsive. No
way would she stick her hand in there without the ability to see what awaited her. Had
an animal crawled in there and died?
Grabbing the flashlight from her backpack, she turned the light on and pointed the
beam into the darkness.
While she'd never been what she'd call a girly girl given to screaming, this time she
let out a startled, terrified yelp. Scrambling away from the horror, she attempted to
breathe without choking on the stench and absolute disgust. Finally her lungs obeyed
as she continued to put distance between her and the terrible sight and scent.
"Shane! Shane!"
* * * * *
As hot wind threatened to lift his hat from his head, Shane looked around the valley
and knew he'd made the right decision to let Emma continue excavation. He'd left her
at the site to repair a fence his uncle had talked about while still in the hospital, but he
didn't like leaving her alone. He made the repair quickly and headed back.
Unease rippled up and down his spine. If Emma found the treasure, if it still
existed, then they could safely store it away with the SIA. Someone like Dorky would
know what to do with it.
Hell, he couldn't even begin to think of another woman with Emma so near. He
tried to keep a clinical, detached eye on her, but her beauty made him ache. He'd
managed to keep his hands off her. Knowing she slept in the next room had driven him
half-mad with wanting.
But he'd made her a promise. No touching, no kissing, no…fucking.
If she wanted him, she'd have to come to him. Open. Willing.
He closed his eyes. "Damn it."
How would he do this, day after day, night after night?
He smiled. Could it have been only about a week ago that he'd met her? Told her to
get the hell off his land? It hardly seemed possible when so much had happened.
Resolutely, he jammed his desires to the back of his mind. Keeping a watch over her
and catching the bastards who'd put his uncle in the hospital raged in his heart and
mind, his single purpose in life.
He started toward the trail leading down to the valley, conscious of not wanting to
stay away from her for long. He'd insisted on leaving a gun with her at the site. By
freeing him up to scour the immediate area, he felt comfortable being away from her for
a short period.
Shane had trundled halfway down the trail when he heard her scream for him.
* * * * *
Emma's throat contracted again, and she swallowed hard and pressed her hand
over her mouth. Nausea rose in her stomach, and she lurched to her backpack to grab
water. Shane didn't come running. He must be too far away to hear her cry for help.
After she'd gulped down the refreshing liquid, she struggled to stem the revulsion
that curdled her stomach. She stared at the spot she'd vacated at the hearth. She had to
get Shane, had to let him know what she'd found.
Charlie whined and sat beside her.
"Emma!"
At the sound of Shane's shout she swung around and saw him sprinting toward
her. His expression reflected an almost terrified concern. He was breathing hard, as if
he'd run a long way at full blast.
As he skidded to a stop next to her, he grabbed her by the arms. "I heard you
calling me. Are you all right?"
Her fingers twisted in his flannel shirt. When she opened her mouth, her voice
came out hoarse and dry. "It's Grant."
"What? Where?" He looked around, pulling her against his chest, his arms
shielding. Tension coiled through his muscles, poised to repel threat.
Grateful for the strength of his body and his presence, she pointed toward the
hearth and the opening in the rock.
"I found this weird hole in the back of the hearth that shouldn't be there. I pulled
out these big stones because they look like new additions
. I peeked in the hole, and oh,
God. I wouldn't have recognized him, but for the shoes. Those are his hiking boots." A
shudder wracked her body. "Grant's stuffed in that hole, Shane. Murdered."
Shane cupped her face with one hand and looked deeply into her eyes. "Sweetheart,
don't pass out on me."
"I never pass out," she said weakly, realizing that she might be lying this time.
He led her over to a log and gently urged her to sit down. "Put your head between
your knees and breathe deeply. I'll be right back."
As he strode toward the awful hole, she dropped her head between her knees and
drew in cleansing breaths, attempting to will away the queasiness and the stench from
her nostrils.
After Shane looked into the hole, she heard his earthy words even from this
distance. "Jesus H. Christ."
He removed that funny-looking cell phone from his belt and made a call to the
authorities. Emma couldn't hear all his conversation, but his voice sounded stern and
calm. He returned several moments later, and when he knelt beside her, the
uncomfortable sensation in her stomach subsided. But she didn't want to glance in the
direction of the hearth. Not yet. Not while she could see those hiking boots and the
blood that soaked them.
Shane touched her shoulder. "Feel better?"
"Yes," she whispered. She shook her head. "No. It isn't every day I see a colleague
jammed into a hole. I can't believe this. Did whoever did this to him think no one would
find Grant?"
Shane rubbed her shoulder gently. "I think they didn't care."
She shuddered. "Maybe they wanted me to find him. They had to know I'd
excavate that area…"
He nodded sagely. "I had a feeling something like this had happened to him. It's
barbaric. Sickening."
"There's blood on his shoes." She realized how stupid it sounded to state the
obvious. He massaged her back and the comforting stroking eased her fright. "Blood all
over. How long do you think he's been there?"
"Probably a couple of days. The high heat has accelerated the decay process."
"Maybe since the night someone bashed me on the head when I was at his RV."
"It's very possible."
A sense of guilt, however misplaced, settled on her shoulders. "Maybe there was
something I could have done to help Grant. To prevent his murder."
He stopped the methodical stroking. "What are you talking about?"
She stood up and he followed. "If I hadn't fought with him…if we hadn't fought
with him."
Turning her toward him, he clasped her shoulders gently and looked into her eyes.
"It isn't your fault or my fault Wilder's dead. My guess is he got himself into this mess
headfirst with no reservations. When I did the background check on Wilder, I found out
his debts outweigh his gains. Wilder Archaeology is in the pits. Literally."
She nodded. "I knew the company was in trouble. Grant refused to let me see the
books. He kept them locked away. He did practically everything related to the business
end of the company."
Emma surveyed the area, apprehension slithering down her spine, the cold touch of
death reminding her of her mortality. She took a deep breath.
Anger glittered in his gaze as he looked at the area where Grant's body resided in
final indignity. "The stakes just raised another notch. The police are coming right now.
We've got to meet them at the gate."
Quietly she followed him to the truck and they drove toward the road that led to
the ranch entrance.
After a long silence, he spoke. "Are you sure you're all right?"
She nodded and looked down at her hands. Vibration from the rough dirt road
rumbled through her body. How ironic. Since she'd arrived in Gambit Creek all she'd
experienced both in the excavation and in her relationship with Shane had culminated
in a rough path. Now murder had entered into the primordial soup.
She let her gaze rest on the man next to her. She could almost see his mind
formulating and planning. But planning what?
Not long after they arrived at the front gate, Officer Johnson and Officer Reddins
arrived.
After Emma explained what she'd discovered, they headed back to the site. Once
there, the officers began their investigation. Emma and Shane elected to stay in the
truck, the doors open to allow a breeze to swirl through. The shock of discovering
Grant's body cleared slightly, but her outrage that anyone would do such a thing
gathered momentum.
"Grant wasn't the best boss in the world." Another icicle-cold shiver went straight
to her bones. "But I never would have wished this on him. Never."
Shane remained silent, looking through the dirty windshield with a steady,
hypnotized expression.
"Shane?"
Breaking from his trance, he turned to gaze at her. "I'm sorry. You're right. Grant
didn't deserve to die that way."
"Do you have any idea who might be responsible for what's happening here?"
He shook his head. "I have no idea."
She tilted her head to the side. "But you know more about what's happening here
than you want to tell me."
"Want has nothing to do with it."
"The agency says you can't tell me."
"Right." He took her left hand in both of his and squeezed gently, his eyes
softening. "If I could, I would."
"I know." At the same time, anger rose up inside at the situation. "This clandestine
crap is driving me nuts, Shane." She sighed in frustration and closed her eyes. She laid
her head back on the seat. "If someone was willing to kill Grant for God knows
what…they could be willing to kill me—"
"Shhhh." He drew her across the bench seat until she snuggled into his side. His
warm, strong male body comforted her as his right arm tightened around her. Shane
pressed her head into his shoulder. "God, don't say that."
Startled by the anguish she heard in his words, the total and immediate
vulnerability, she nuzzled closer. Gathering strength from his powerful touch, she said,
"I'm trying to be realistic. I may be next."
"They'll have to get through me first. And I'm not letting you out of my sight again
until this is over."
When she looked up, his gaze took in her face. Sensual awareness shimmered
through her body despite the hollow carved out inside her from the trauma she'd
experienced.
"Day and night, I want you with me," he said huskily.
Day and night. For a moment she thought he might kiss her, might lean down and
show her how much he cared.
"Ahem."
Shane released her and they looked out the driver's side window at Reddins, who
stood by the truck, smiling. "We're going to have to get the forensics guy in here.
Wilder died from a gunshot wound to the head, but he has two other gunshot wounds.
One to the left thigh and one to the right knee. Maybe the bastards were trying to get
something out of him before they finally finished him off. Hard to say."
Renewed horror rocketed through Emma and she put her hand to her mouth.
"We've got ourselves a vicious killer here." Reddins gaze swung to Shane. "I'll need
both of you to come down to the station for questioning."
* * *
Chapter Seven
teen
"Do you have any reason to believe that Shane might be involved in this murder?"
Reddins asked as Emma sat at the table in the small interrogation room in the police
department.
Emma wasn't surprised Reddins asked her this question. She'd already fielded
queries regarding her whereabouts in the last couple of days and figured it was routine.
Shane had experienced the drill and waited for her outside.
"Shane wouldn't harm anyone. Unless…"
"Unless what?" Reddins walked around the table until he stood directly across
from her. He placed his palms on the table and pinned her with a serious scowl.
Immediately she regretted opening her mouth. "Unless he had no other choice."
"Why would he have no other choice?"
"What I mean is, if someone was trying to hurt his friends or family he'd do
everything in his power to stop it."
"Are you saying that Shane might have killed Grant Wilder because he thought
Grant tried to hurt Clement O'Donnell?"
"No."
"Or that he might have killed him because of you?"
Impatience surged to the surface. "That's ridiculous. Of course not."
"You said he'd defend someone he loved."
"We're not…it's not like that with us."
Reddins frowned. "Then how is it with you? Why would you be staying at his ranch
if he weren't trying to protect you? And why would he protect you if you didn't mean
something to him?"
His personal questions rankled her, her breath quickening, her palms damp from
nerves. "I don't know what our relationship has to do with Grant's murder. When the
autopsy is done and you determine the time of Grant's death, you'll see neither of us
was anywhere near him."
Reddins didn't seem impressed. "You're very loyal to Shane."
She hesitated. What could she say? Her relationship with Shane defied definition.
She'd slept with him and now he tried to protect her. But he wasn't just her lover,
neither was he only friend. She wouldn't admit to Reddins that she harbored serious
feelings for Shane. She didn't feel comfortable declaring it in the open.
"I'd advise you to come clean with me on anything you know that might help us
solve the case," Reddins said when she didn't answer him.
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