“Twenty-seven,” she said without blinking.
“Right. These remains could have been buried here at any time before or after.”
Bree’s jaw tightened. “I know that, but it would not surprise me to learn my father had killed someone.” She exhaled. “He murdered my mother.”
His heart cracked for her. She’d endured and overcome unimaginable horrors.
“I understand,” he said, “but let’s not make any assumptions. Anyone could have accessed this land over the years. I’m sure the current trespasser isn’t the first.”
Matt scanned the weedy ground and surrounding woods. “Have you searched the whole property?”
“Just about to do that now,” Bree said. “So far, we just cleared for threats. From our initial sweep, it seems he’s been camping in the barn. It looked cozy, so I suspect he’s been there on and off for a while.”
Matt sized up the grave. “Excavation will take some time. The grave wasn’t very deep, and the skeleton isn’t intact. The ME will need to sift a ton of dirt to find as many pieces as possible.”
The small bones of the hands and feet often went missing after the connective tissue decomposed. Rodents and other scavengers dug up and carried away body parts.
A deputy walked onto the scene, carrying a clipboard. Matt didn’t recognize him, but he looked young and still sported an academy buzz cut. There was a bounce in his step, and eagerness shone from him. Like a Labrador retriever puppy, he wanted to please.
Bree waved him over and introduced Matt to Juarez.
“Start a crime scene log,” she instructed the rookie. “No one enters without signing in.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Juarez took Matt’s information.
The medical examiner walked into the clearing. Dr. Serena Jones was a tall African American woman, and she covered the ground with long strides. Her assistant, a full head shorter, race-walked to keep up.
Dr. Jones paused at the edge of the ditch and scanned the general area. “What do we have here?”
Bree summarized. The ME crouched to examine the visible bones more closely without touching them.
Straightening, she propped her hands on her hips. “There’s a chance of showers tonight. We need to protect this area.” Squinting at the sky, the ME grimaced. “Let’s hope it doesn’t flood this ditch.”
The sky was still clear, but the wind had picked up. Tree limbs waved above them.
Matt checked the weather forecast on his phone app. “Only light rain is expected, and we have a few hours before it starts.”
“Good,” Dr. Jones said. “We can do the site prep work today and be ready to excavate first thing tomorrow.”
Bree called to Todd. He walked over and she explained what they needed.
Todd nodded. “I’ll have a deputy transport the suspect to the station and bring a tent back here from the storeroom. Juarez is the FNG. He can babysit the bones overnight.”
FNG was cop-speak for fucking new guy. The newest recruit always got the shittiest assignments, like directing traffic in the middle of August or cleaning vomit from the back of a patrol car. It was an everyone-pays-their-dues tradition. Handling the worst assignments with grace and humor would help the new recruit assimilate into the unit and build camaraderie.
“I want Oscar and Juarez working the scene,” Bree said. “It’ll be good experience for the rookie.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Todd nodded.
Bree turned back to Dr. Jones. “How much time do you need to remove the remains?”
The ME changed her position, moving a few feet to the left and leaning over the ditch. “I don’t know.” She didn’t take her eyes off the bone she was studying. “I’m going to call the forensic anthropologist at the university.” She pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’d like his help.”
Matt sensed something had changed. “What do you see?”
“Look at this femur.” Dr. Jones gestured to a long, thin bone that widened at each end. “This is the head that connects to the hip. We can tell by the angle of the bone shaft that this is a right femur.” She pointed to another long bone a few feet away. “That is also a right femur.”
Matt and Bree exchanged glances.
He digested the information. “There’s more than one victim in this grave.”
“Yes.” The ME straightened and brushed her hands on her thighs. She surveyed the clearing. “We have at least two victims in this ditch. With comingled skeletal remains, I’d like the anthropologist’s input before we excavate. I also want to bring in ground-penetrating radar.”
Matt watched Bree turn to face the side of the clearing that led back to the barn and house.
Without turning around, she said, “You want to make sure there aren’t more remains.”
“Yes.” Dr. Jones turned in a circle. “There’s plenty of space out here for additional graves.”
Matt and Bree left the medical examiner and her assistant laying out their equipment. They trekked back to the barn.
“Where do you want to start?” Matt asked.
“The barn,” Bree said. “Adam keeps the house locked, and we found no sign that anyone had broken in.”
“When was he here last?”
“I don’t know.” Guilt swept over Bree’s face. “Apparently, he visits the place now and then, fixes things.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t understand. “He hasn’t bothered with the barn, though. It’s just an empty shell.”
They circled the building, then entered through the rear door. Six large stalls lined one side of the space, with a loft above them. Two-thirds of the space was wide open clear to the roof at least twenty feet up.
“Did your family keep livestock?” Matt asked.
“Not really,” Bree said. “My mother collected a few discarded animals. It was the one indulgence my father permitted her. We had an old pony, a used-up dairy cow, and some barn cats, of course.” She gestured to the empty area. “My father used this area to store farm equipment.” She sighed. “Knowing my grandparents, they sold the machinery. The animals probably went to slaughter. I never asked because I didn’t want to know.”
Since Bree’s grandparents had separated the Taggert siblings after their parents’ deaths, Matt doubted they had been the kindest of people.
The sadness on her face was heartbreaking. Matt wanted to take her hand. He wanted to hold her, but she’d never allow it, not when she was on duty and in public. The best he could do was make sure she didn’t have to be here alone.
He surveyed the mostly empty space. “You said it seemed he was camping here.”
“In the loft.” She headed for a ladder and started climbing.
The wood was old and creaky. Matt waited for Bree to exit the ladder before he followed her. While a thick layer of dirt and dust covered the first floor, the loft had been recently swept. The space smelled faintly of mold, and a few watermarks indicated areas where the roof leaked. But overall, the space was dry. Matt had seen worse digs for a homeless person.
The makeshift camp had been set up in the far corner. An old lawn chair sat next to a wooden box. A battery-powered lantern and a flashlight occupied the box. A sleeping bag had been rolled out. Next to it stood a beat-up wheelie suitcase and an old-fashioned footlocker.