“I will.” Bree ignored her talking with her mouth full. Like Luke, Kayla finally seemed to be taking an interest in activities. Bree would not do anything to dull the shine of the upcoming 4-H show. The little girl washed down her scone with milk. “He does like to roll in the mud like a pig.”
The pasture hadn’t dried out since the last big rain.
Kayla burst into giggles. Milk shot from her nose. Her eyes opened in surprise.
Laughing, Bree handed her a napkin. “Next time, swallow before you talk,” she said in a light tone.
Kayla grinned. “We have to give Cowboy a bath too. He can’t lead the parade all dirty.”
“Sure.”
“Can we braid his mane too?” Kayla asked. “Mommy used to do it every year for the parade, but he never got to be in the front before.”
Bree pictured Cowboy’s long mane. “I’ve never done it, but we can try.”
“Yay! He needs ribbons.” Kayla finished her breakfast, then ran to the back door and stuffed her feet into her purple boots. “I’m gonna clean my saddle and bridle today. I’ll do yours too.”
“Stay outside, so I can see you, OK?” Dana called to her.
“OK,” Kayla yelled over her shoulder as she raced out the back door.
“All ready to lead that parade?” Dana asked with a grin.
“I guess.” Bree had been roped into leading the opening parade and giving out the Best of Show awards at the end of the day.
Dana snickered. “You’ll live. It’s made Kayla really happy, and it’s good for the voters to see you as an active member of the community.”
“I know,” Bree grumbled. She didn’t love politicking, but she would do anything to make Kayla happy. “She’s really coming out of her shell.” Grief had sapped her niece’s energy for most of the winter and spring. But her smile had returned with summer.
“Her whole personality has changed,” Dana agreed with a smile.
The kitchen went quiet. Bree finished her own scone and drank the rest of her cappuccino. Through the window, she watched Luke carry his sister’s saddle out of the barn and set it over the fence. Kayla dragged out a small bucket of water and the saddle soap.
“Digging out the remains today?” Dana asked.
Her tone was casual, but Bree felt her keen focus. “Yes.”
“Is Matt working the case?” Dana asked.
“Yes.”
“Don’t you usually go out on Saturday nights?”
“We do, and we might this week, as long as the case doesn’t get in the way.”
“Don’t let it. You need to spend some romantic time with Thor.” With two kids in the house, she and Dana had begun talking in code, but the waggle of Dana’s eyebrows made her meaning clear. She pointed at Bree with her spatula. “Time when you’re not talking about a homicide.”
Bree snorted. “We are not discussing my romantic life.”
Dana let her reading glasses drop to the end of her nose. She deadpanned over the frames. “Obviously, there isn’t anything to discuss.”
“How do you know?” Bree’s cheeks heated.
It was Dana’s turn to snort. “There’s no way that man would leave you this . . . tense.”
Bree sighed. “What about you? When’s your next date?”
Dana turned off the oven. “I’m having dinner with the pharmacist next week.”
“Oooooh. Is this a second date?”
“It is, but don’t get too excited. We only had coffee on the first one. All a second date means is that he’s reasonably normal and gainfully employed.”
“I’ll cross my fingers for you.” Bree slid off the stool. “I’m off to work.”
She took a second cappuccino in her to-go cup.
Dana handed her a paper bag. “Scones for the crew at the scene.”
“Thanks.” Bree’s phone buzzed.
Matt’s name popped onto the screen.
“What’s up?” she answered.
“Are you on your way?” he asked.
“Leaving now.”
“Good.” Matt paused. “The doc found something you’re going to want to see.”
CHAPTER NINE
Bree drove out to the site. The promised rain had not materialized overnight, and humidity weighted the air. At nine in the morning, it was already past eighty degrees. The ME’s vehicle was parked behind the anthropologist’s SUV and Matt’s Suburban. On the other side of the road, a news team was setting up to give a report. Local media was fascinated with her family’s tragedy. The newly discovered graves would undoubtedly attract more reporters.
A new deputy had replaced Juarez that morning. As Bree stepped out of her vehicle, the deputy met her in the street.
“See that the press stays in the street,” she ordered as she signed the crime scene log.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
Bree headed around the side of the house, past the barn, and into the woods.
The heat was oppressive, and a mosquito buzzed past her face. By the time she emerged in the clearing, she was sweating and swatting at a bite on her neck.
Considering the early hour, the team had made an impressive amount of progress. A grid had been laid out with string. Grad students squatted in the ditch, sifting dirt. Matt, Dr. Jones, and the anthropologist conferred next to a tarp. A few dozen bones of various sizes were arranged on the tarp. Bree recognized a skull and some pelvic bones. A second skull sat in a cardboard box next to the tarp. A few students were setting up a second dig on the other side of the clearing.
Was it another body?
Dr. Jones waved, and Bree joined the ME, Matt, and the anthropologist, Dr. Sam Bernard.
Bree had met Dr. Bernard the previous day. He was tall, fit, and deeply tanned. A broad-brimmed safari-style hat shielded his face. His glasses were wire-rimmed, with clip-on sunshades. He wore dusty cargoes and even dustier boots. The back of his T-shirt was already soaked through with sweat. How Dr. Jones still looked fresh in her scrubs and sneakers, Bree did not understand.
“Morning, Dr. Bernard.” Bree stepped up beside Matt and greeted everyone. “Looks like you’ve all been busy.”
“Please call me Sam.” The anthropologist rubbed his palms together. “We’ve gotten really lucky. But before I get into the details, a quick update on our progress. Yesterday, we took aerial photos with a drone, cleared surface debris, and marked off our grid. Serena expressed concern there could be additional graves, and we found a slight depression in the ground over there next to that tall pine tree.”
Bree felt her eyebrows rise as he called the ME by her first name.
Dr. Jones blinked. Was that a blush, or was the heat finally getting to her?
Sam pointed across the clearing. “A depression can indicate a place where a body might be buried. Decomposing remains leave a void in the soil. The ground sinks or compacts into that space over time. These depressions that are formed are also called compaction sites.”
Sam moved toward a wheeled machine the size of a small lawn mower with a screen mounted at waist height. “The ground is relatively flat in this clearing, so we decided ground-penetrating radar was the best tool to map this site.” He tapped on the screen. “GPR data showed something is buried in that location.” He motioned toward the second dig. “The depth and shape of the hole are consistent with this burial. However, the object looks too small to be adult remains, unless the victim is curled on its side—or it’s a child.” He indicated a blurry grayscale image on the screen.