Matt went into the house. A second German shepherd, this one a traditional black and tan, rose from his bed and greeted Matt with a wag of his feathery tail.
Matt stroked his head. “I’m sorry, Brody. Next time you can come swimming with us, or even better, I’ll take you after Greta leaves for the academy.”
A few years before, Matt and Brody had been a sheriff’s department K-9 team. A shooting had ended both of their careers. A bullet in Matt’s hand had limited his dexterity—and his marksmanship. He could shoot a rifle, but his accuracy with a pistol had been compromised. Now, he consulted as a civilian criminal investigator, a position that did not require him to carry a handgun. Brody was simply getting older, although the shooting certainly hadn’t helped the aging process.
Greta tried to nose her way between them, but Brody held his ground. Matt lifted Brody’s big head and looked into his deep brown eyes. “Don’t worry. She’ll be out of your hair in September.” After she was accepted into the training program, Greta would live with her new handler.
Brody let out a long-suffering sigh and gave his temporary houseguest a side-eye. The older dog liked Greta, but she also annoyed the hell out of him.
Greta moseyed over to the corner and stretched out on the cool tile. Swimming had tired her out. Matt went into his kitchen for a glass of water. He made a turkey sandwich and ate it while leaning over the sink. He felt the weight of both dogs’ stares as he chewed. He was brushing crumbs off his hands when his phone buzzed on the counter, and he reached for it.
Bree’s name popped onto the screen. They’d been dating for a couple of months. The smile that tugged at his mouth felt stupid, but he was always happy when she called him.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Hi.” The single syllable sounded stressed.
Matt remembered she’d agreed to see her childhood home with her brother today. “What’s wrong?”
She blew out an audible breath. “Adam and I found human remains in the woods behind my parents’ house.”
“What? You’re sure it’s not an animal?” At one time in Matt’s former career, he’d also been an investigator for the sheriff’s department. He’d gone out on more than one call to collect bones later determined to be an animal’s. Deer bones were similar in size to human, and bear and raccoon paw bones resembled those of a human hand.
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure,” she said. “We found a skull. I’d like your help with the investigation. Do you have time to work a case?”
Matt checked the time on his phone. One thirty. “I can be out there in fifteen minutes.”
“OK, thanks. The ME is on her way too.”
Skeletal remains weren’t as time sensitive as a fresh corpse. Bones weren’t going to degrade significantly in a few hours, but the location of the bones made Matt uneasy. Were the remains related to her family? Or had someone taken advantage of the vacant land? He hoped it was the latter. Bree and her family didn’t need any more tragedy heaped on their devastating past.
Ending the call, Matt quickly changed into a pair of dark-brown tactical cargoes and a polo shirt embroidered with the sheriff’s department logo. He took Brody out to do his business, then filled the water bowl. After donning boots, he left the dogs snoozing in the kitchen and drove out to the Taggert property.
Bree stood on the side of the road behind her official SUV and two patrol vehicles. She held her cell phone to her ear. She didn’t fidget or pace. She was 100 percent focused on her call. Bree didn’t waste energy.
Matt stepped out of his SUV. Her gaze met his for a brief second. At the eye contact, Matt felt the now-familiar light punch to his heart. Then she returned her attention to the caller.
Bree was an attractive woman. No doubt about it. Average height, she was naturally athletic and leanly built. Her hair was brown, wavy, and thick. Today, it had been half pulled from its usual neat knot and fell to her shoulders, tousled and tangled and sexy. But it was her intelligence and another quality he couldn’t quite quantify that riveted him. Pure physical attraction was great, but Matt needed more. He wanted what his parents had—a lifetime of connection and friendship—but he understood most people never found anything even close.
Bree lowered her phone. Those intelligent hazel eyes landed on him again, and he felt the connection with her in his bones.
“Thanks for coming, Matt.” Her words were formal. She was never inappropriate on the job.
In fact, he could only hope that she wasn’t so worried about a potential conflict of professional interest that she couldn’t commit to him in any way. Bree’s identity was tied to her job, but her dedication had nothing to do with money. Adam would support her. Though her brother looked like he lived in a tent under an overpass, he was wealthy. His paintings sold for obscene amounts of money. Bree’s need to protect and serve came from her experience as a young victim of violence. The same childhood tragedy also made it hard for her to trust, and he understood why she needed to move slowly.
Matt came from a solid and secure family. Bree had been raised by a monster. It was not surprising he would be ready to make a commitment before she was. But he still feared she’d never be able to return his feelings. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t change how he felt. His heart was in her hands.
She tucked a stray hair behind one ear. Tension bracketed her mouth, and her uniform looked like she’d slid into home plate.
“What happened to you?” he asked.
“Long story.” As they walked around the side of the deteriorating house, through the rear yard, and past the barn, she filled him in on finding and chasing the trespasser. “He says he only went into the barn. The house was locked, and we found no sign that he’d broken in. He also says he doesn’t know anything about the skeleton.”
“How old is he?” Matt asked.
“Forty-eight,” Bree said.
“Of course we have no idea how old the bones are.” Matt stroked his beard.
“No.”
It was notoriously hard to determine the postmortem interval, or the length of time since death, for fully skeletonized remains.
Bree and Matt passed through a small strip of woods and emerged in a clearing dotted with the rotted ruins of small wooden structures.
Bree pointed. “The grave is over there, in a shallow runoff ditch.”
On the other side of the clearing, Bree’s second-in-command, Chief Deputy Todd Harvey, was stringing crime scene tape between trees, marking off the entire area. At the edge of the clearing, Adam was sketching on a notepad.
Todd raised a hand in greeting, then went back to his task.
“Hey, Adam.” Matt greeted Bree’s brother.
Adam lifted his pencil. “Bree put me to work.”
“Handy to have a real artist on-site.” Matt skirted a rusty stake in the ground. They stopped a few feet short of the runoff. He could see a few partially unearthed bones, including the dirty-white of a skull.
“What was this area used for?” he asked.
“This is where my father kept his dogs chained.” Bree waved a hand over the clearing. “It’s been decades since I’ve been back here, but I think the grave would have been out of their reach.”
“You don’t know that the body was here when your family lived here,” Matt pointed out. “The property has been vacant for how many years?”