Grave Danger (13 page)

A few weeks ago, before the excavation began, the imported yellow dirt had been scraped off the top of the site with a backhoe, and was now piled in a large mound that cradled that part of the site. She felt Lou’s scrutiny as she climbed out of the excavation unit to examine the yellow dirt. With her trowel, she scooped a sample from the mound into a small zipper-top artifact bag, and then stepped back into the pit.

“What are you doing?” Lou asked.

“There’s something strange here. Soil where it shouldn’t be. I needed a comparative sample.” She placed the bagged dirt next to the indentation where the skull had been. The colors matched and the sand and silt content looked the same. “Lou, we’ve got a problem. I know you’re not going to like this, but I need to look at the skull.”

“Why?”

“The soil under the skull is modern. It’s the fill that was brought in before they paved over this area for the school bus lot.”

Lou stared at her for a long moment before finally giving a slight nod. He stepped away from the bentwood box, as though he wanted nothing to do with this new desecration she was about to commit. But at least he allowed it.

She climbed out of the pit and examined the skull.
Damn.
She knew she was right, but she needed a second opinion. “Lou, I need Simone to look at this too.”

“Why?”

“There’s something odd about this skull. I don’t think she’s part of the site.”

He gave her a curt nod. “For your sake, Libby, you’d better be right.” One phone call was all it would take for him to shut down the dig—permanently. In an obvious power play, he pulled out his cell phone.

Libby turned and called out for Simone.

“What’s going on?” Simone asked, looking warily at the skull in Libby’s hands.

“I need you to look at this.”

Simone glanced at Lou, whose gaze was hard, meaning to intimidate. “Do it,” he said.

She took the skull in her gloved hands, holding the mandible against the maxilla, preventing the loose jaw bone from opening. “What should I look at?”

“Her teeth.”

Simone moved the mandible so she could see the teeth from all angles. She looked up at Libby, her shock clearly visible. “She’s not prehistoric. She’s not even Indian.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

M
ARK STEPPED INTO THE DOORWAY
of the squad room in time to hear Luke say to Sara, “I heard on the radio a minute ago the Maitland nutjob thinks she found a murder victim in the archaeological site. Ten’ll get you twenty she’s crying wolf ’cause she wants to get into the chief’s pants.”

“No way am I taking that bet,” Sara said.

“But I will,” Mark said, leaning against the doorjamb.

Luke’s cheeks reddened as he faced Mark.

“Stepped in it again, didn’t you, Luke?” Sara snickered.

Mark entered the room, pulling a ten-dollar bill from his wallet. He handed the money to Sara. “Give her ten, Luke. Sara’ll be the judge.”

“You can’t be serious, Chief,” Luke said.

“I’m completely serious. Care to make it twenty?”

Luke shook his head. His mouth moved, forming words, but no sound came out. He grudgingly handed Sara ten dollars.

“Okay, Sara, if Libby’s found a murder victim that money’s mine. If she hasn’t, it’s Luke’s.”

Luke recovered his voice. “Dispatch ordered a patrol car to the scene, but you called them off. If you believe her, why did you do that?”

Ordinarily, Mark wouldn’t explain his actions, but he had been mentoring both officers so he gave Luke some leeway. “Because I’m going to check this one out myself.” He turned to Sara. “You’re assisting,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

He faced Luke. He was pissed at the young officer but he needed another investigator at the scene and Luke needed the experience. “I’ll meet you both at the site.”

He left the room and headed to his vehicle. Several minutes later, he pulled into the gravel parking area that bordered the archaeological site, Luke and Sara driving right behind him.

“Stop being a pussy and get over it,” Mark overheard her say as she climbed out of the squad car. “You only stand to lose ten dollars, not your job.” Mark knew she hated whiners and treated them with the maximum contempt allowed by law. Luke must have had one hellish car ride.

Libby approached them from across the site. She was different today. Gone was the sleek professional who’d dressed in business attire to interview locals all weekend long. Today she wore a ragged pair of jeans with holes in the knees, an old stained T-shirt, and dirt on much of her exposed skin. He found this grubby, rugged change sexy as hell.

The last time he’d seen her, she’d pushed him away. Since then he’d spent more time than he cared to admit considering ways to change her mind and hadn’t factored in seeing her in these circumstances.

A hint of nervousness flashed across her face before her features settled in what he’d come to regard as her cool work demeanor. Mark introduced her to Sara and Luke, and then said, “So, what’s going on, Libby? I understand you think you’ve found a murder victim.”

“I
know
I’ve found a murder victim,” she said.

“That’s for me to decide. You and others can speculate, but the homicide detective makes the call,” Mark said, as much for Luke’s benefit as Libby’s.

“Okay then,” Libby said with a slight smile. “I
know
we found the bones of a woman who was buried here on April ninth or tenth, 1984—just before the area was paved. I’m speculating someone was hiding a body.”

“How do you know the date?” Sara asked.

Libby’s smile became a confident grin. “Like most archaeology, the information is in the strats.”

“Strats?” Luke asked.

“Stratigraphy—the different layers of dirt. Come on, I’ll show you what I found after I removed the skull.”

Libby’s employees were gathered next to a large rectangular area sectioned off with orange flagging tape. Within the rectangle, yellow string divided the area into a grid. Each square looked to be about a yard on each side. The rectangle was seven squares long by three squares wide. Several of the twenty-one squares had been dug. Three in the middle row were excavated consecutively, one several inches deeper than the other two. A skull lay at the base of the deepest one. In the other squares, long bones protruded from the dark soil.

Libby handed Mark a stack of papers. “Jack gave me these. They are part of the site history. Back in 1984, he had this area graded, filled, and paved into a lot for City of Coho vehicles and equipment. Those are copies of the construction invoices.” She then explained the difference between the types of soil, how she’d found the yellow fill dirt under the skull, and why that was significant.

“So,” Mark said, “the fresh fill spilled into the hole someone dug to hide the body.” He glanced through the papers in his hands and found the invoice for the fill. “It says here the dirt was delivered on April ninth.”

“Exactly,” Libby said. “If you look through the papers, you’ll see paving began on April eleventh.”

“So there was a two-day window when someone could have buried the body,” Sara said.

Mark scanned the site. He could see tracks and teeth marks from the backhoe, which gave him a rough idea of the size of the area that had been paved. “She was buried right in the center of the paved area.”

Libby nodded.

“So the person who buried her knew where and when the paving would happen,” Sara said. “We can contact the construction company and see if they can give us a list of employees.”

“Your first task,” Mark said, knowing it was doubtful they’d learn anything useful, but they had to start somewhere.

“What else can you tell us about the skeleton?” Sara asked Libby.

Libby pulled on a pair of surgical gloves. “I’ll show you what we found. When you walk around the open excavation units, please walk on the boards we’ve laid out. If you step too close to the edge, the sidewalls could collapse. And please use buckets as steps to climb in and out of the pits.” She stepped onto an upturned bucket to descend into the pit and then picked up the skull, revealing the yellow fill underneath.

“See, here on the jawbone, she doesn’t have wisdom teeth, but you can see by these bumps that they were removed. Probably surgically, because the wound healed cleanly. These other holes are where the molars should be. There is no healing; this is outside my expertise, but I’m guessing they were removed post-mortem.”

“Which would make it harder to identify her in 1984—before DNA,” Mark said.

“Someone pulled her teeth after she was dead to hide her identity,” Luke said.

Libby shrugged. “I guess.”

“Can you tell if she’s Caucasian, Indian, Asian?” Sara asked.

“She lacks shovel-shaped incisors, which can be indicative of Native American ancestry, and none of her remaining teeth have wear patterns you’d expect on an adult prehistoric female. But I wouldn’t dare try to guess her race without extensive study of the entire skeleton. What I
can
say with confidence—and my field director agrees—is this is a modern female skeleton, between the ages of twenty-five and fifty years old at the time of her death.” She held out the skull. “She’s not part of the site. Except for the skull, her bones are
in situ
—in their original, natural position. When we initially discovered the burial, we began saving the soil without screening. Those bags over there contain the soil that came from these three pits.”

Mark glanced in the direction Libby pointed. Several dozen bags were lined up in the mid-morning sun. Condensation from the damp soil had built up inside the bags, making the plastic more opaque than clear. He turned to her. “Go ahead and put the skull back in the pit. The coroner will want to see where you found it.”

A Native American stepped forward and picked up a wooden box that rested near the pit. He pulled out something from the box and handed it to Libby. “I’m leaving now, Libby. The tribe doesn’t need to be involved with this. I’ll take the box. You don’t need it.”

She smiled and nodded to the man. “Thanks, Lou.”

Mark caught Sara’s eye and inclined his head toward the man. Sara chased after him. Mark heard her say, “I need to ask you a few questions before you can leave.”

“I need copies of all your excavation notes and everything you can give us that came out of this pit. As of now, we’re considering this site a crime scene.”

Libby turned to her crew, who had been watching their exchange with interest. “Let’s get out of their way. Finish up your excavation notes under the canopy.” To Mark she said, “I’ll be in the RV if you need me.”

“No one leaves the site until after we’ve gotten their statement,” Mark said as Libby headed to the RV and her crew crossed to worktables covered by a large tent.

A few minutes later, Sara returned. “What did you find out?” Mark asked.

“His name is Lou Warren. He was here to monitor the burial removal,” Sara said. “If he believed the bones were Indian, he wouldn’t have left. He’s no fan of Maitland, but he admitted she followed the tribe’s protocol to the letter—at least until she found the dirt under the skull. He said he could’ve had the whole company fired from the project when she allowed her field director to examine the skull, but he permitted it because he knew she must’ve had a damn good reason for breaking protocol.”

“If he knew about her three bogus police reports, he wouldn’t be so quick to trust her judgment,” Luke said.

“I handled all three of those reports,” Mark said. “She’s credible.”

Luke’s face showed his disbelief.

“You’ll need to develop a better poker face if you want to make detective,” Mark said.

“Am I allowed to speak freely?” Luke asked, a slight edge to his voice.

“Go for it.”

“This is a load of crap. It’s just a little yellow dirt. As far as Maitland goes, it’s three up, three down, end of an inning, time for a psych exam.”

“Good thing I’m in charge, not you,” Mark said.

“Luke,” Sara said, “none of us knows about skulls and shovel-shaped incisors.”

“Okay, say she’s right about the teeth,” Luke said. “Those bones could have been buried here in the ’40s or ’50s and the headstone removed when the area was paved. Then all she would have to do to create suspicion is dump a little yellow dirt under the skull.”

“Yes, and finding out the truth is our job. It’s time we got started. You both grew up in Coho. Did anyone disappear from around here in 1984?”

“Not that I can remember,” Luke said.

“Jack Caruthers’ wife disappeared a long time ago,” Sara said. “She was never found.”

“Angela Caruthers disappeared in the late seventies. This can’t be her,” Luke said.

Mark considered Sara’s statement. Angela Caruthers. Jason’s mom. He hadn’t heard of Angela or her disappearance until two days ago, when Libby explained why she needed Angela’s research for the historical background report. He looked at the bones lying at the base of the pit and wondered what Libby could tell him about Jack. This was Caruthers’ property. Had he balked at funding the excavation, knowing his wife’s remains might be found? Did he have reason to believe the bones might be missed, or, as almost happened, been mistaken for a prehistoric burial and turned over to the tribe?