Starlight Dunes

by Vickie McKeehan

  Her shields went up. “What’s it to you anyway?”

  “He’s a cop, River, and a damn good one. Think about it. He has connections that might help you find Luke. Did he ever mention that his father located a little missing girl up in Oregon? Miracles like that don’t happen often. Take advantage of every inroad that might lead to success.”

  River stared at Scott, opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Her mind raced with hope. Then she came back down to earth. “I don’t think Marcus likes me very much. I’m not exactly sure why.”

  Scott lifted one shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. He’ll help if you ask him. I hate to see you and Brent get off on the wrong foot because the guy listened to bad advice. I hate to see you miss out on a chance to find your son.”

  River’s brow furrowed at that. “But I’d have to level with him about everything. Besides, there’s no wrong foot here because there was never any foothold to begin with. Brent did mention that it was his brother’s lame idea. But that hardly matters…and I emphasize the word but here. Brent did not have to act on it. I’m curious about something though. Does Brent have the same kind of ability as his father?”

  “If Brent does, he’s never used it before, not outwardly anyway. It’s widely known in these parts that Ethan has the greater gift.”

  “Hmm, what about asking the brother?”

  “Go for it. Either one will help if you let it be known you need it.”

  “I take it you’ve known them for quite a while?”

  “Ethan and Brent’s grandmother used to live there in the same house where Brent lives now. Whenever they’d come over to Pelican Pointe to visit, we’d see each other around town. Ethan was the pesky little brother who tagged after us.”

  “No doubt fond memories.”

  “You bet. I’d be getting a haircut at the barber shop, the one old man Sanderson owned before it became the Snip N Curl. Or my grandpa might take me into the Diner to treat me to an ice cream cone. Brent and Ethan might be there doing the same. Brent was the very first guy in town who befriended me.”

  “Really. When was this?”

  He scratched his head. “After I lost my parents in the car accident, I’d been living here about a year. It was summertime, I remember that. I couldn’t have been more than six at the time. That would make Brent about eight. Like typical boys do, we played with our matchbox cars outside Ferguson’s Hardware, went for a swim in the bay, and ran around town like heathens. It was then I guess Brent started coming out here to the cove. Here we got to play pirates without Ethan hanging around. With the age difference I guess I looked up to Brent, like a big brother. Now some bastard is out to do him in. Some days I think the world is unraveling on so many levels. There’s so much meanness out there.”

  “That must be why you’re looking out for Brent now and trying to fix the two of us up. It isn’t a good idea, Scott. I’m not a good bet when it comes to relationships. I’m too obsessed on finding Luke.”

  “No one could blame you for that, River.”

  “I’m not in the market for anything long-term, not ever again. I do kinda feel sorry for Brent though. I mean someone wants him dead. But that’s never a good way to start a friendship much less a relationship. Besides, he seems a little lost right now. And I’ve got way too much on my plate.”

  Scott shook his head at that. “And you’ve never known what it felt like to be lost, River? Come on.”

  “Of course, I have but—”

  “Then get to know him. He’s at a crossroads right now and could use a friend. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe the two of you could help each other.”

  “He has his family. They care about him.”

  “It isn’t the same and you know it. He needs an ear. Lend an ear, River. What can it hurt? Be a friend. Ask for help. You want me to help you? I’m trying the only way I can.”

  She bit into the last part of her Snickers, drained the glass of milk. “Okay, but I’m no fixer of lost souls. I need major help in that regard myself.”

  Scott was tempted to argue with that. But then he knew River would never believe how things were about to change—in a huge way—and there was nothing she could do about it.

  Chapter Nine

  The next day along the dunes, Marcus Cody made it official. He gave River the all-clear to start work on the dig.

  The first order of business was to erect a barrier to keep the tides from coming in. River assigned the interns to that job. Heavy-duty plastic tarps went down first and then enough sandbags were stacked two-feet high to create a dam-like wall to keep the work area as dry as possible.

  “Make sure the seal is as tight as you can get it,” River emphasized as she surveyed the barrier. “Otherwise this close to the ocean, we’ll plot the grid only to have to bail water again and again.”

  When it came to defining and measuring out the range of beach, everyone pitched in to do the grunt work. They did north to south units first horizontally and then east to west, vertically. But even with that, it took them all morning to section off the measly strip of earth allotted them. Because of the narrow slit of landscape, they dug the hole in a rectangular contour, the same shape as the stretch of shore.

  “Walker, this is the reason the Pelican Pointe Project is no ordinary dig. For one, the mudslide hollowed out a space that’s no more than twelve feet long.”

  Though the cliff above them stood sturdy and rugged, the area around the base looked like a mini crater. “This slender strip of sand is all we have to mine so get used to bumping elbows with each other.”

  “But that’s crazy,” Walker said. “We’re practically on top of one another.”

  River rolled her eyes. “I just said that. It is what it is and no amount of grumbling will change the measurements. You might as well make the best of it. We’ll have to be extra cautious in excavating down to even the initial four inches around the circumference. Because of that it won’t be easy. Now it’s time to brush away the topsoil and get to work, see what’s underneath besides that canoe.”

  “It’d be a lot easier to bore holes in the soil,” Walker groused.

  “You want to bore holes, you’ll need to find another dig,” River said matter-of-factly. It wouldn’t take much more of Walker’s bitchy attitude before she booted him off. “We utilize GPS coordinates, ground sonar and magnetometers. No boring holes, no invasive procedures. Not on my site.”

  Hands on hips, River decided it was time to remind the newbies of the rules, namely Walker. “Here’s the order of things. All dirt goes through the sifter, no exceptions. Just because you don’t eyeball anything, that doesn’t mean something significant isn’t hiding in there. We then log everything that surfaces into a database for accuracy. Everything gets bagged and tagged. Anything that looks like bone or fragments, anything that requires testing, we put in a separate container. Again, bag it and tag it. Take pictures with your phones if that will make it easier. We keep track of even the smallest piece of bone. You got that, Walker?” she snapped. “Because if you don’t, tell me now. It isn’t too late in the semester to switch sites. I’ll gladly see that you’re reassigned.”

  “No, I didn’t mean anything by it,” Walker backtracked. “I just thought drilling the holes would get us where we want to go a lot sooner.”

  “This isn’t a race. You want fast results, you’re in the wrong line of work,” River continued testily. “Look around you. This is a delicate operation, probably unlike any I’ve encountered before. There are a lot of ecological things to consider here.”

  She ticked each one off by the fingers of her hand. “First, we had to conquer the tidal flow which we’ve done. Second, we have unstable ground here. Those two things won’t change. Third, we’re working with an incline, which doesn’t help matters at all. That’s why the plan is to utilize the natural stratigraphy. Fourth, we’ve established that we’re dealing with a limited amount of space, fourteen feet is paltry. We have less than forty feet of shoreline to set up the
workspace. Usually we get a much larger plot of ground. A farmer’s field would be ideal. But we don’t get to choose where the goods are, now do we? Fifth, we get any more rain it could weaken the side of the bluff even more. That happens, we’re underwater again and starting from scratch.”

  She raised her other hand in the air for emphasis, stuck out her thumb. “And finally, you start boring holes in the ground around here even with decent sonar data and we could have damaged artifacts or worse, human remains in smaller pieces than what we bargained for. You destroy human remains, next thing you know I’ve got a pissed off Marcus Cody AKA tribe elder just looking for a reason to kick us outta here for good. That isn’t happening on my site. Are we clear, people?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sandra wasted no time piping up.

  That was fine by River, but Sandra wasn’t the problem and neither were Julian and Laura. She waited for Walker to nod in agreement. When the man finally did, she added, “Good. Now quit standing around all of you and get your butts to work. And don’t forget to charge your laptops at night. You do not want a dead battery forcing you to make manual entries out here that you later will have to re-enter into the database anyway. That’s double the work.”

  An hour later inside the hole they’d allotted, River stood ankle-deep in muddy sand studying the remains of the canoe lodged at a forty-five degree angle.

  “This is redwood,” River muttered to Julian who stood up on the lip taking pictures with the zoom lens. “It’s definitely Chumash, amazingly well-preserved. See the markings, here, here and here. Note the planks used on the sides, exactly the way the Chumash were known to carve out their boats and shore them up to make them seaworthy.”

  “What do you estimate the length to be?”

  “Ten feet, maybe more. They were known to build tomols, some as long as thirty feet. It’s a shame this one isn’t that large.”

  Before reaching out to touch, River took off her latex gloves. She braced for the sensations she knew would bombard her. Running a bare hand over the brittle wood, her body went rigid as she stared straight ahead.

  As if her eyes pierced the veil of time, she saw an active settlement, its people going about their daily lives. Several canoes were pulled up on the beach where fishermen unloaded their catch for the day. Other members of the tribe were still hard at work at their task out on the bay, their canoes bobbing in the swell of the harbor.

  All at once the villagers began pointing to the horizon and shouting a warning of sorts. A storm loomed, River decided and watched as the skies darkened.

  She shook off the vision, looked up at Julian to see his intent stare. Not for the first time River picked up the conversation where they’d ended it.

  “What are the chances of getting this sucker out intact, Julian? How can we keep it from breaking apart in chunks? I can already feel how dried-out and delicate the wood is. I know it’s asking a lot…”

  “More like a miracle, River. Of course, intact would be preferable. But you have to realize we probably still have another four feet of layers to go through before we can even think about removing it. Not only that, but it looks like it goes back into the cliff. We’ll have to extend the grid. There’s no other way. And anything during that process could cause the planks to snap,” Julian pointed out. “That’s why we’ll need to document what it looks like now in case it splits and we have to reassemble it later. Hell, it could already be in pieces underneath all this mud and we’re not able to see it.”

  “I don’t think so. We should start applying the preservation sealant today though, get it covered with plastic since the wood’s been exposed to the air. We don’t want it drying out more than it already has.”

  “Sure, I’ll start the process now with what’s sticking out of the ground. Is it okay to come on down there?”

  “You bet. While you’re at it bring the bucket of tools with you.” With that, Julian dropped down into the hole, a space barely large enough for two people to work.

  As they began to brush away the first precious layers of grit, River grinned, elbow to elbow with him. “We really are crazy for playing in the mud like this, aren’t we?”

  “We started out like this in Selenge, only not as coastal, but right next to a river as I recall. Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened between us if the site in Turkey hadn’t come up?”

  River studied her friend’s face for any signs of lingering hostility about their brief time together, a matter of months really. Deciding he was just making conversation, she finally said, “We were just kids then on our very first dig. You and I both know we were all wrong for each other.”

  “That we were,” he agreed with a grin. “At the time I really resented the fact you left me high and dry in Mongolia and headed to Turkey though.” He lifted one shoulder. “I was so immature. Can you believe it’s been fifteen years since then? A lot has happened. I wish you’d never taken that anthropology class and met Wes Patton.”

  She sighed. “That makes two of us. As far as leaving you high and dry in Mongolia, just remember, when I got to Ankara I did major grunt work just like Walker and Sandra are doing now,” River reminded him. “And it wasn’t pretty.”

  “It never is. Glad you put Walker in his place this morning. The guy’s a major pain in the ass. He drove us nuts during the summer.”

  “I know. Keep a tight rein on him, will ya? If he slacks off, I want to know about it.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Cocking a brow, River proceeded to wiggle her eyebrows up and down. “Want me to have Laura come down here in the hole? That way you two could roll around in the mud together. Just don’t damage my canoe in the process.”

  Julian laughed. “Nah, we did a lot of rolling around last night in that queen-sized bed we had at the inn. Laura really is lobbying to stay there instead of the RV.”

  “I’ve decided I don’t want to spend the next two months feeling like a third-wheel most nights in the camper with you two. I don’t want a repeat of Alabama when I was forced to bunk with you guys. It’s time you two had your privacy and I had mine.”

  “That’s appreciated but what about your budget? Can you do that and keep your detective looking for Luke? I know our grant doesn’t cover lodging and the foundation’s per diem is meager.”

  “I’ll sleep in a tent right here on the beach before I give up the private eye.” As she turned to climb the ladder up, she stopped and glanced back at her longtime friend. “Julian, you don’t resent the fact that I’m heading this dig, do you?”

  “Nope. You call the shots. I discovered years ago on that site in the Midwest that I don’t like being in charge. I’ll leave bossing people around up to you. You’re good at it. Who’s doing security around here anyway? You want us to take shifts for the time being?”

  “If that falls to us and the crew is forced to do both, it will extend the dig well into next year. I’m sure the tribal council won’t want us here any longer than we have to be. Besides, Marcus says he’s handing the job off to his son, the recuperating sheriff.”

  “Really? So you intend to make nice then?”

  “Sure. Why not? It beats the hell out of the alternative.”

  Chapter Ten

  For three days straight since his last PT session, Brent could get around without his cane. He’d managed to walk down to Main Street and back without hunching over in pain or falling down. Thanks to a physical therapist who was as tough as any army drill sergeant he’d ever had there was light at the end of the tunnel.

  He couldn’t run yet, or even jog, but it was a step in the right direction.

  His appointments with the department shrink were progressing. After they’d addressed the confidentiality issue, he’d found a level of trust. A couple of sessions had gotten him to open up about the daily pressures of his job, something he’d suppressed for years. And since his time in law enforcement might be coming to an end, he thought it best to unload his anger about it to the psychiatrist.

  He h
ad to wonder if he’d miss his job. If he was honest with himself, he’d struggled the past year to maintain any kind of momentum at all. Why had he been able to recognize Ethan’s burned-out state of mind two years earlier but not his own now?

  When the doorbell rang, he went to answer it and was shocked to find River Amandez standing on his stoop. She held up a bag he recognized as coming from the Hilltop Diner.

  “Peace offering,” she explained as she made her way past him while Springsteen belted out Born in the USA. “Lunch break. Nothing like bonding over a meal, and artery-clogging burgers and greasy French fries are the best.”

  “We’re going to bond?”

  “Yep. At least we’ll give it a shot. So where do we do this?”

  “Kitchen.”

  “Got any ketchup?” she asked, following as he led the way. “French fries demand a condiment. Mustard works, too.”

  He sent her a dubious look. “No one should disgrace fries by smearing mustard on them.”

  “I do. I forget how sheltered your culinary life is.” She dropped the bag on the counter and turned. “Hey, where’s your cane? You’re walking minus the cane. I can tell it still bothers you some but that’s amazing. Look at you, you’re caneless.”

  His mouth curved up. “I’m making progress. I hate that damn cane. Who wouldn’t? And it’s been almost a month. The physical therapist says I’m healing right on schedule for an injury like mine.”

  “Not being able to get around would drive me nuts. Got a Coke?”

  The music changed to the Stones’ Time Is On My Side. A confident Mick assured the listener that his baby would eventually come running back.

  “Uh, yeah. I thought you were furious with me.”

  “I was. But your father tells me you’re in charge of keeping an eye on my dig. It’s better if we make peace.”

  “I agree.”

  “Good. Then let’s eat these before they get cold.” River dug into the sack, divvied up the food while Brent got down glasses and filled them with ice.