Three sets of bones. Three people gone missing in the past five years. Was it going to be that easy? “That’s three different thigh bones, laid out like that?”
She met his gaze, her dark eyes snapping. “Yeah. Exactly. Look at that placement. They’re crisscrossed in a star pattern. I suppose it could be chance that they ended up like that.” He shook his head, but she wasn’t looking at him. She had turned back to the bones and was brushing at them again. She gasped.
“What is it?”
“I think this largest bone has a piece of pelvis attached. That could definitively tell us if it’s a male or female.” She leaned a fraction of an inch farther forward and brushed at the far end of the bone. “Damn it,” she muttered.
“What now?”
“The ground’s too wet. I’m going to have to wait to unearth the bones.”
“I guess you can’t just pick them up.”
She laughed shortly. “No. There might be something attached to them—clothes, another bone, a piece of jewelry. No. I have to be very careful to avoid destroying evidence.”
“But you’re absolutely sure the three bones are different.”
She sat back on her haunches and tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Absolutely.”
“Are you thinking …” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He needed to know if one of those bones belonged to Marcie James.
Dear Lord, he hoped not.
Nina’s face closed down immediately, and he saw a shudder ripple along her small frame. She needed to know, too. He understood that. But she had a very different reason.
She shook her head. “I can’t say yet.” Her voice had taken on a hard edge—the outward manifestation of an obvious inner struggle between her love for her friend and her professional detachment.
She hissed in frustration as she collapsed the brush handle, wiped the bristles against her jeans-clad thigh and then put the brush in her forensics kit.
“I need to build a platform so I can get to the bones without disturbing the site any more than it already has been.” She informed him. “I can’t rule out the possibility that this is a Native American burial site.”
“Burial site? Are the bones that old?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll need to clean them and test them to be sure. But the layout of the land around here is consistent with the places the Comanche chose for their sacred burial grounds. I didn’t see the site before excavation started, but the level of rise and the general shape suggest the possibility.”
Wyatt grunted. He’d thought the same thing as soon as he’d gotten his first glimpse of the scene. The thought had gone out of his head once he’d seen the kids milling around.
“As soon as I can study the bones, I can give you the sex and race. However, to estimate the time of death requires more testing and equipment. Fresh bones will glow when exposed to ultraviolet light. The fluorescence fades from the outside in over time. Still, my opinion right now is that these bones are recent. As soon as I get them cleaned up, I can look at them under my portable UV lamp. Then I’ll take samples for DNA analysis.”
Wyatt’s chest felt tight. There were only a few reasons that DNA would do her any good. “For a positive ID,” he said quietly.
Nina nodded solemnly. “For a positive ID.”
Both of them knew whose DNA they were thinking of.
He stared down at the three ridges. “So, Professor, I guess you need your students and their spotlights to help you get the platform built and extract the bones.”
“That’s right, cowboy.” Her eyes glittered with triumph as she stood and pulled a cell phone out of her pocket.
He stood, too. “Tomorrow.”
“Tonight. You just agreed that I need them.” She flipped the phone open.
“Tomorrow.” He folded his hand over hers, closing the phone. A funny sensation tingled through his fingers. For a second he thought the phone had vibrated.
She looked at their hands, then up at him. “Give me one good reason why not tonight. I told you I need some more pictures, and I do not want anybody disturbing the bones.”
“Because I’ll be overseeing every stick, every bone, every clod of dirt that’s removed, and I need some sleep.”
“Speaking of clods,” she muttered, pulling her hand away from his. “It’s dangerous to delay. This rain could turn into a deluge and bury the bones again. Any disturbance of the site increases the chances for contamination.”
A pair of headlights appeared, coming around the curve beyond a thick stand of evergreens.
Wyatt checked his watch. “That’s Deputy Tolbert. I didn’t realize it was midnight already. That settles it. He’s here to guard the site tonight. He’ll make sure it’s not disturbed. You and I are heading into town.”
“I’ll stay with the deputy.”
“No, you won’t.”
“But the weather—”
“No more rain in the forecast.”
“I need to—”
“I said no.” He didn’t raise his voice, but there went her eyes again, going as wide as saucers.
He gave a small shrug. “You’ll get more done in the daylight.”
He could practically see the steam rising from her ears, but she pressed her lips together and nodded once, briefly. He knew she’d been informed that as the senior Texas Ranger on the task force, he was in charge, even of the civilian members.
“Fine,” she snapped. “Can I at least call my team and let them know what I’ve found and what I’m going to need in the morning?”
“Be my guest,” he said, putting his hand to the small of her back, his gentle but firm pressure urging her away from the crime scene.
They stepped over the yellow tape as Deputy Tolbert’s white pickup rolled to a stop and he jumped out.
“Deputy.” Wyatt held out his hand.
Tolbert ignored Wyatt’s hand and eyed Nina appreciatively.
Wyatt watched him with mild distaste. He’d sized up Shane Tolbert the first time he’d met him, over two years ago. The designer jeans and expensive boots, plus what Wyatt’s sister called product in his hair, had pegged him as a player back then, and from what Wyatt could see, nothing had changed.
“Nina Jacobson. Gorgeous as ever. I didn’t know you were going to be here.” Tolbert touched the brim of his hat, then glanced sidelong at Wyatt. “Lieutenant Colter.” His voice slid mockingly over Wyatt’s rank.
Wyatt
