He retrieved the kit from his SUV and hurried back inside to find Emma drumming her fingers on the counter. “Are there any security cameras set up in or around the apartment?” he asked.
She blew out a breath. “No. There are only four tenants, three upstairs and one down, and she’s gone to visit her daughter, plus the owner, who is out of town as well. We talked about it at our last get-together, but nothing came of it. We should have bought one ourselves after our landlord refused. She’s older and doesn’t want to spend any more money than she has to.”
“How about someone else in the neighborhood?”
“Not that I know of, and their camera wouldn’t be pointed toward this apartment, anyway. I don’t know any of my neighbors very well either,” she said. “Maybe it’s like Greg said and the flowers are harmless.”
“Who’s Greg?”
“He lives in the apartment across the hall. Nice guy.”
“What did he say?”
Her face colored. “That I was pretty and it was probably just someone too shy to give them to me in person.”
That was possible. In fact, he’d like to think it was probable. Still, he wanted to check for prints. He removed the flowers from the vase and handed them to Emma, observing her stiff body. She hadn’t been this tense last night. “So, how are your parents?”
She frowned, then her shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good as they can be. Since you left, Dad became chief nursing officer at Merit, and Mom’s in Jackson. She’s an assistant district attorney and thinking about running for the top position when the DA retires.” Emma put the flowers in another vase and then sat across from him at the island. “I know what you’re doing—trying to make everything normal.”
He grinned at her and continued dusting the vase.
“They divorced, you know.”
“Yeah, I’d heard that, and I’m sorry.”
“When Ryan left, they had different opinions on how it should be handled. Then the strain of Ryan being accused of murder was too much.” She picked at a hangnail. “I think Dad would take Mom back in a minute, but that would mean he’d have to move to Jackson, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.”
His mother had kept him updated on Emma’s family, and he could see her dad not wanting to leave Natchez, just like he could see her mom not wanting to give up her career in Jackson. Even as a teenager, he’d seen the two had been as different as oil and water. Jack was laid-back, and Dina a classic type A overachiever and a workaholic.
He picked up the dark powder and bent over the vase, lightly twirling the side of the camel-hair brush over the surface. “Any chance they might get back together?”
“For a long time, I thought they would if I could find Ryan and bring him home. Looking back, I can see their marriage was shaky years before Ryan disappeared, but I believe that was the tipping point.”
She fell silent for a minute, and Sam looked up.
“You’re pretty good at that,” she said.
“There’s an art to it,” he said, pausing with the brush in his hand, “but I’ve had a lot of practice.”
She nodded and a few seconds later drummed her fingers on the counter again.
“This shouldn’t take much longer.”
Abruptly the drumming stopped. “Sorry. I’m not the most patient person.”
“No kidding.” He glanced her way, sending his heart into overdrive. No matter how hard he fought it, she still stirred his heart.
She hopped off the stool and grabbed a glass, filling it with water. “How about your mom? I see her at church, but we don’t talk,” she said from across the room. The shakiness in her voice told him he had an effect on her as well.
“She’s busy with Jace when she’s not at the newspaper.” His mom was a copyeditor for the Natchez Democrat. “He’s the light of her life.”
“I can understand that. I’ve seen him at church, and he’s a sweetheart.” Emma took a sip of water. “I didn’t see her last Sunday night.”
“She was busy.” Helping his deadbeat dad.
“How about your dad?”
His mouth twitched. “What about him?”
“How is he? He helped me find this apartment. My dad says he’s a really good real estate agent.”
“I wouldn’t know. Haven’t seen him in a while.” He didn’t want to hear anything about him either. Sam straightened up and put the brush away. “Is there anyone else in the picture other than Trey?”
She gulped a sip of water, and when he continued to wait for an answer, she shrugged. “No. I take it there weren’t any prints?”
“Nope, no prints,” he said and tilted his head. “What happened with you and Trey?”
Her cell phone rang, and she quickly answered it. After a few words, she moved the phone away from her ear. “It’s my volunteer. When do you think we’ll be leaving?”
“Next five minutes,” he replied.
She relayed the information and pocketed her phone. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
In other words, don’t ask her about any wannabe boyfriends. Or maybe she just wanted to get away from him.
“What’s up with you after we finish our investigation this morning?” he asked as they walked down the stairs.
“I’m expecting someone from Jackson to operate the GPR machine when Nate finishes his investigation.”
“What’re you using ground penetrating radar on?” He hurried and held the door open for her in time to see her face light up.
“I’m surprised you know what the acronym stands for.”
“I’ve used the machine on a case or two when we were looking for buried bodies.”
“Oh.” Emma made two syllables of the word as her full lips formed a perfect circle. “I’ve been assigned the task of exploring the area where the slave cabins were. And checking the two cemeteries again for more graves. It was supposed to have been done last summer, but the excessive rain canceled the operation.”
“I helped with the one conducted twenty years ago,” he said.
Suddenly Emma’s foot caught on the threshold and she stumbled. “Ah!” she cried.
Sam caught her before her knees hit the porch floor. “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” She pulled her arm away. “I hate being so clumsy.”
“It happens to all of us,” he said and held her arm, guiding her down the porch steps.
“Me more than others,” she muttered. “You worked on the Southern Miss project?”
“Yes. I was in the National Park Service Youth Program. Worked as a gofer for the anthropology students when they excavated the site of the cabins and surveyed the cemetery. They even let me use one of the steel probes to locate a burial spot,” he said.
“I didn’t know that. The research I read said they found forty-three graves in the slave cemetery, but from the oral history I’ve researched, I believe there are more. I want to find them, make sure no one is overlooked.”
She stopped by her truck, color highlighting her cheeks.
“You’re excited about this,” he said.