Virginia
October
The lake, surrounded by the bright, vibrant colors of fall, would be beautiful if it were still a lake and not a boggy nightmare, a forest of long-dead tree stumps erupting from acres of mud. But Anderson Lake wasn’t a real lake, and thanks to a twelve-foot drawdown, it was now not even a fake one. Once upon a time, this had been a river valley, then the hydroelectric fairy came along and transformed it into a reservoir. Now a crack in the dam required the deep drawdown for repairs.
The four-foot-tall tree stumps made it possible for Hazel MacLeod to envision the extent of the woods along the river thirty years ago, before the dam was built. A glimpse back in time to the valley this had been.
Hazel had visited this reservoir several times in the five years her cousin’s company had owned property that abutted the water, but seeing it during drawdown was vastly different from the serene lake when the reservoir was full. She turned her gaze to the north end of the muddy lake bed with its tree-ghost forest and tried to guess where Raptor land started and stopped. She’d never been on this eastern edge of the reservoir; it wouldn’t look familiar to her even if the lake were at normal capacity.
She knew she was in the right spot because she’d spotted Isabel’s blue Prius and the sheriff’s SUV in the line of cars, and she’d had no trouble finding the path through the woods Isabel had indicated. She’d been told it was important she enter from the utility company’s access point because the adjacent property owner would not allow egress across their land. The landowner feared Isabel would find and record an archaeological site that could put restrictions on land use.
The objections had been so vehement, the owner had delayed the survey for days as lawyers sorted out what the property line and easement was between utility reservoir and landowner.
Now Isabel was up against the wall to get the survey done before the lake was refilled, and she’d called Hazel in a state of panic, needing her particular expertise at the lake immediately. Hazel had done the only thing she could and grabbed her backpack with field equipment and borrowed the Range Rover from Alec’s fleet of vehicles to drive an hour from Gaithersburg to northwestern Virginia and the muddy shores of Anderson Lake.
According to Isabel, she needed to follow the lakeside path south for a half mile, where she would spot Isabel and her crew documenting the find that had her so alarmed. The path, being well above the usual level of the lake, was hard, dry, red Virginia clay and easy to follow as it cut through trees or skirted the high water shoreline. At last, Hazel rounded a bend and spotted her cousin’s wife, Isabel Dawson, along with the county sheriff, a deputy, and five other men and women. Three were Isabel’s field crew, while the remaining two wore coveralls that labeled them as utility workers.
Isabel shoved her phone in her pocket and smiled broadly when she spotted Hazel. She waved her over, yelling, “Thank you for getting here so quickly! You’re a godsend.” She turned to the others when Hazel reached the group. “This is Dr. Hazel MacLeod, forensic anthropologist.”
Hazel passed her credentials to the sheriff to verify her expertise.
“You work for Talon & Drake, the engineering firm that was contracted to fix the dam, Miss MacLeod?” he asked.
“Dr. MacLeod,” she corrected to establish that if he didn’t like her initial assessment of the bones, his opinion didn’t matter. She was the expert here. “I’m a consultant. I’ve worked with Talon & Drake in the past when human remains were found during construction and they needed an estimate of the age of the skeletons to determine if they were archaeological, historic, or recent.”
“And that’s what you’re supposed to do here?” the sheriff asked, his tone skeptical.
“It’s why Dr. Dawson called me, yes,” she said, using Isabel’s degree as well for the same reason. Isabel had warned Hazel when she called that the sheriff was eager to write off this find as a prehistoric burial ground and move on. He’d been irritated at Isabel’s insistence on calling Hazel in to examine the bones.
Which was a pretty major red flag in her line of work.
Usually, sheriffs were more worried on the other side of the equation, fearing bones of crime victims might be released to tribes under the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, preventing further investigation into a homicide. In her experience, it was a rare law enforcement officer who was quick to write off a find that included human remains. Especially when there were no artifacts present, as Isabel had indicated on the phone. But then, there was a strong likelihood—given the number of skeletons involved—this could be a slave burial ground, which brought different issues all around, but that wouldn’t be the sheriff’s problem either.
Hazel had scheduled her second appointment with her psychotherapist for this afternoon, but the urgency in Isabel’s tone as she expressed her concerns about the sheriff had convinced her to reschedule. She turned to Isabel. “Shall we get started?”
Isabel looked at her feet. “Do you have rubber boots?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t purchased a new pair since returning from a five-month assignment in Croatia a week ago. She hadn’t expected to go into the field so soon. She had enough money saved to take time off from work—a mental break she needed after spending months identifying victims of genocide in the Balkans—and had been lucky to find her old field kit stocked and ready to go after Isabel’s frantic call. “I’ll sacrifice these shoes to the cause,” she said, referring to the worn running shoes that were about to get filled with red clay mud.
She followed Isabel into the muck and mud that defined the high water level of the reservoir. Isabel’s employer, Talon & Drake, was the contractor hired to repair the dam. Knowing archaeological sites would be exposed when the artificial lake was lowered, Isabel, the Bethesda office’s lead archaeologist, had been tasked with documenting changes to the old village sites that would be exposed. It was a pretty standard project. The bones had been an unexpected discovery.
Isabel and her crew had been in the field since last Wednesday—working through the weekend because the repairs were nearly complete and refilling the lake would begin on Friday. Their job was to photograph and measure prehistoric features and survey the stump forest to record new sites exposed after thirty years of inundation. During today’s survey, the team came across a pile of bones in the water, just beyond the drawdown zone. Following the management plan agreed to by the utility company, Talon & Drake, and the State Historic Preservation Office, Isabel had notified all parties to the agreement along with the local sheriff’s office, as these remains had never been documented as being part of a previously recorded archaeological site.
If the bones were prehistoric, they would be left in situ, remaining where they’d rested for hundreds or thousands of years without disturbance, as intended at the time of their burial. But if Isabel’s crew had found an historic slave burial ground, it could be argued that they should be examined. Documented. Reburied in a place where their descendants could visit and honor them. They could be counted and acknowledged in death in a way they hadn’t been in life.
The bones could give voice to a past that many tried to erase.
Hazel wasn’t a fan of unnecessarily disturbing the remains of the deceased, but sometimes, as with her work for the International Commission on Missing Persons in the Balkans, disturbing remains was the only way to acknowledge victims of genocide. To be counted.
There was no way she’d give these bones the cursory once-over the sheriff wanted.
Her feet sank into the thick, saturated silt. The clay grabbed her submerged shoe and held on. Her foot popped free, leaving the sneaker behind. She grimaced and grabbed the shoe, tossing it along with her sock to the shore before removing her other shoe and sock, tossing them as well.
“Sorry,” Isabel said. “You gonna be okay barefoot?”
She shrugged. “I’ll have to be.” She could do a preliminary examination today, then decide if she needed to come back tomorrow with better footwear. The water was cool, but not achingly so on the early October afternoon. She followed Isabel, stepping carefully to avoid cutting her feet on buried rocks or tree roots as they wound through the eerie dead forest in which all the stumps were chest-high.
The sheriff, deputy, and utility workers remained on shore. Isabel’s field-workers, one young woman and two young men, accompanied them, the woman pointing to the pin flags protruding from the water, marking the first bones they’d spotted, several meters from the bulk of the remains.
At last they reached the bones that were the reason Hazel had dropped everything and made a mad dash to the reservoir. A fine layer of orange silt covered the bones, obscuring them at first, disguising them as sticks, branches of the stump forest. But Hazel knew those curves and lines. They weren’t the irregular shape of tree limbs. They were human limbs. Condyles, sockets, curved ribs. The shapes were so familiar. And among them, she spotted a bony brow ridge, empty eye sockets, and a wide nasal aperture.
Like spotting fish underwater, once she spotted one cranium, her vision adjusted to take in the whole school. She scanned the water for meters in every direction. Skulls and long bones. Ribs and scapulae. Pelvic bones and vertebrae. Thousands of bones. Two dozen or more individuals, from the looks of it.
Just like Bosnia. Just like Croatia. Just like Rwanda and Darfur. A mass grave.
Sean Logan spotted Isabel’s Prius in the line of cars that included a sheriff’s SUV. He pulled out his cell phone and called his boss. Well, sort of his boss. Alec Ravissant owned Raptor, but since he’d been elected to the US Senate, he’d handed over management of the company to Keith Hatcher, Sean’s official boss.
But today, Rav had called the office and asked Sean to drive out to Isabel’s project area, which was near Raptor’s auxiliary wilderness training area, to pick up his wife and bring her home. An odd request considering he’d also asked Sean to bring Chase Johnston to the reservoir so he could drive Isabel’s perfectly fine car back to Gaithersburg.
Even stranger, Rav had told Sean to look out for anything suspicious at the reservoir and be on guard, but not to share that detail with anyone, not even Chase or Isabel.
He’d offered no explanation as to why he was sending Sean on this errand, nor had he said anything about a sheriff being at Isabel’s job site…which could qualify as suspicious. “Rav,” Sean said into the phone. “We’re here. Does Isabel know to expect us?”
“No,” his boss said. “She said there was some sort of issue at the site and she’d call me back. She was in a hurry to get me off the phone, so I’ve been not very patiently waiting for her to call as promised.”
“Issue?” Sean asked, looking at the bar of lights on the sheriff’s SUV. “Did you know the county sheriff is here?”
“What?” Rav cursed. But it wasn’t an angry sort of sound. Sean recognized the ring of fear. He climbed out of his Raptor-issued SUV, one of the many perks of his job. “I’ll find Isabel and call you back,” Sean said.
“Tell Isabel to call me. Now.”
“Sure thing.” He hung up and tucked the phone away. To Chase, he said, “Let’s go.”
“Rav’s worried?” the kid asked. Chase wasn’t really a kid…but he looked like he was about fifteen. Combine that with the eager, gung-ho enthusiasm of a boy who’d never served in the military, never seen combat, and Sean couldn’t help but think of him as a kid, even though he knew the young man had been more than tested a few years ago.
“Yeah. Isabel said something about an issue at the site without explaining. The sheriff’s vehicle is worrisome.”
The kid frowned. “Should we draw our weapons?”
Sean shook his head. Chase, with his pale white skin, lived a life with fewer concerns than Sean ever could.
“As a Black man, it’s unwise for me to approach a police officer with gun drawn, even if they know to expect me. This guy has no idea we’re here.”
Chase flushed bright red. “Right. Sorry.”
Sean patted him on the back as they started down the path. “Just a fact of life. Frankly, it’s not good for you to approach weapon drawn either, but you stand a better chance of surviving the encounter than I do.”
They hurried down the path, not bothering to be silent. Sean had no wish to startle anyone at the other end. Relief settled in when he rounded a bend and the reservoir came into view. But there was no sign of Isabel or her crew. He glanced to the north and south, taking in the exposed lake bed with stunted trees seeing sunlight for the first time in at least thirty years. He’d run scuba trainings in this lake, he’d seen the stumps underwater, but still, this was nothing like the Anderson Lake he was used to.
He spotted the path to the south that cut through the living forest. Fresh footprints told him that was the route to Isabel. After a quick half-mile walk between forest and lake, he caught sight of Isabel with her bright orange curls, wading in the water amidst the stump forest with four other people.
The sheriff and a deputy stood on dry land with two men who appeared to be from the utility company. Whatever the emergency was, no one appeared to be agitated. He wanted to call Rav to give him the heads-up, but the boss was more interested in speaking to his wife, so he sent a quick text: Eyes on Isabel. She’s fine. Will have her call you after we speak. SL5X
SL5X was Sean’s Raptor signature, only used when the person on the receiving end might want confirmation that the sender was really the operative and not someone who might have gotten hold of his phone. Probably not warranted in this situation, but Rav was worried about his wife, so Sean would leave nothing open to misinterpretation. He liked Rav a lot, and he liked his big, steady paycheck and top seniority.
Sean was about to approach the sheriff and introduce himself, when Isabel turned and caught sight of him. She said something to a woman bent over looking at something underwater, then headed to the shore where Sean waited.
The second woman stood and turned, and something shifted in his chest as he recognized another redhead. Unlike Isabel, Hazel MacLeod’s hair was on the auburn end of the color spectrum and bone straight. Today, her thick hair was tied in a casual high ponytail that effortlessly highlighted her perfect cheekbones and slender neck.
Shit. He hadn’t expected to see Hazel today. Hell, he’d thought she was still in Bosnia. Or was it Croatia?
It didn’t matter. She was the last person he wanted to see. He’d never get that night in Grand Cayman out of his mind. No matter how hard he tried.
And he’d tried.
Hazel MacLeod was the center of several fantasies that would never be fulfilled. And apparently, there would be no avoiding her today.
Isabel grinned broadly and made a beeline for him, splashing through the shallow water. “Sean, Chase, what are you two doing here?”
He held out his phone as she approached. “You need to call Rav.”
Her features darkened. “Shit! I totally forgot. Oh, hell. I hope he’s not mad. He didn’t send you because he was worried, did he? When I told him there was a problem with the site, I hope he didn’t think it was an emergency.” Her gaze landed on the law enforcement officer who waited on the shore. “The sheriff is here due to technical details, not because there’s any sort of trouble.” She frowned. “But how would Alec know Sheriff Taylor is here?”
Sean gave her a look and waved his phone, glad that the sheriff’s presence wasn’t a real problem. “Just call him.”
She ignored his offer and pulled out her own phone. Sean scanned the lake, avoiding watching her as she called her husband, his apparent disinterest part of the bodyguard’s role. Nothing was private when he was assigned to guard someone, but he knew how to refocus his gaze and stance to remain alert while not seeming to eavesdrop, even when he was listening to every word.
In addition to hyperawareness of Isabel’s conversation with Rav, he could feel Hazel’s thorough perusal before she turned back to whatever it was she found so interesting underwater, ignoring him as if eight months hadn’t passed since she’d begged him for sex in a hotel room in the Caribbean and then they’d both spent an awkward three days pretending nothing happened.
He’d loved his job with Raptor right up until that moment, when his employer’s sexy cousin threw herself at him at a time when there was no way to catch her without screwing up everything that mattered. The months between then and now had been easy, knowing she was on a different continent. But now she was back, and damn, she looked good in those skintight jeans that cupped her ass as she bent over in the water, examining something as if it held the answers to the universe.
Hazel MacLeod was back, and somehow, months had slipped by without him mentally preparing to face her again.
Next to him, Isabel Dawson apologized to her husband and gave a long-winded explanation about bones and more bones causing a problem with the environmental review for the Talon & Drake dam repair project. At last she hung up from her conversation with Rav and eyed Chase. “Alec says he wants you to drive my Prius home.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She handed him the key, not even bothering to ask why. He took it and nodded, then walked away.
Isabel watched the young man with the same look she always did. Like a mother hen. Once Chase was out of earshot, she asked the same question she always did, the one Sean had come to expect like the sun rising in the east. “How’s he doing? Any problems?”
“He’s fine, Iz.” In truth, Chase wasn’t a quick thinker, and Sean fully believed it related to the ordeal he’d suffered at the hands of supreme mind fuckers a few years ago, but with each passing day, Chase’s cognitive abilities increased. He could recover. He would recover. He was ninety percent there. It was the homestretch that was taking longer than anyone had anticipated.
“You’d tell me the truth, right?” Isabel asked, as always.
“You know it,” Sean said, repeating his line. He appreciated that her lines were borne of genuine concern, not simple rote behavior. His responses weren’t placating either. He did believe it. If he didn’t think Chase was up to the job, he’d have insisted Keith let him go with a massive severance package a year ago.
But Chase needed Raptor, and Raptor, in its own way, needed him.
With the Chase ritual behind them, Sean could once again focus on the unsettling fact that he was about to talk to Hazel for the first time since Grand Cayman. He really should have used the gift of time he’d been given these last several months to figure out what to say to her. But Hazel had thrown him off-balance since their first meeting four and a half years ago.
The woman who haunted his fantasies gave up her study of the muddy waters and waded across the manufactured lake to greet him.
Her gaze slid up and down Sean’s body like a caress, and much as she tried to hide it, Sean knew she liked what she saw. The feeling was mutual. And that, right there, was the problem. In an instant, a new fantasy of Hazel popped into his head. This one involved bending her over one of the ancient tree stumps and making her come so hard, her moans echoed across the fake lake.
Goddamn but he was in a mood today.
No one had warned him Hazel would be here. He should have had a Hazel clause written into his contract during the last renewal. Thirty days’ notice before he’d have to face her, with a bonus for the hazard of turning down the owner’s cousin. Again.
He wouldn’t screw with his employment, especially not by getting involved with a flighty party girl.
Hazel’s smile was stiff as she approached. “Sean, what brings you here?”
“Hello, Hazel. Good to see you again.” His words were crisp and precise, not his usual speech pattern, but then, no one had warned him Hazel would be here. He was off his game.
Isabel’s gaze flicked between the two of them, her expression both speculative and alarmed.
Good thing Keith was running Raptor, not Rav. Sean and Keith got along great, and Sean’s status as top operative had been earned and established years ago. As long as Sean didn’t make the mistake of fucking the owner’s sexy cousin, he couldn’t be fired. “How was Bosnia?” he asked, trying to add more warmth to his tone.
“Croatia,” she corrected, an edge to her voice. His fault, he knew, but it was too late now. “And the country was lovely, but the job sucked, as to be expected. How have you been?”
“No complaints.” To Isabel, he said, “Rav wants me to drive you home. You going to be here much longer?”
Isabel looked to Hazel. “How much more time do you need?”
“I’ll photograph and collect several bones to examine in the lab, but I need to come back tomorrow and take more pictures before collecting a broader sample. See if I can get an MNI count.”
“MNI?” Sean couldn’t help but ask.
“Minimum Number of Individuals,” she answered.
He glanced at the reddish-brown water. “What’s going on here?”
“Isabel and her crew found a lot of bones,” Hazel said.
He frowned. He knew enough about Hazel’s expertise to know she was talking about human remains; if Isabel had found animal bones, she’d have called someone else. “What do you mean by a lot?”
“A mass grave, upwards of twenty people.”
“A prehistoric or historic burial ground? Or something more recent?”
“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” the sheriff said from behind him. “What’s the word, Miss MacLeod?”
“Doctor,” he and Hazel said at the same time.
She smiled at Sean, and warmth bloomed in his chest. To the sheriff, she said, “I won’t know anything for certain until after I’ve taken a look in the lab. I’ll take a few bones tonight to examine for a preliminary assessment, but I still need to come back and work up a ballpark estimate of the MNI based on the major elements readily visible.”
“If those bones are Indian, the Menanichoch and other tribes in the area won’t be pleased with you removing them,” the sheriff said.
“The sample is being collected in accordance with the burial treatment plan they agreed to with the State Historic Preservation Officer. They might not like it, but they know it’s the only way to ensure the remains are Native American and not something else entirely. I know my profession, Sheriff, but thank you for your concern.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and Sean had to admit he liked the way Hazel didn’t take any crap. But then, there was a lot he liked about Hazel MacLeod. Probably too much. That had always been the primary problem.
Hazel looked to Isabel. “The faster we get the bones bagged, the sooner we can go home.” Together, the two women waded back to the deeper water about fifty yards from the bank. The grade was shallow, and they were only calf-deep when they stopped and joined the crew.
At last, Hazel and Isabel had their samples. They headed to the shore, zigzagging between the stumps. Hazel took a step, then let out a sharp screech. She jolted and lost her balance, then landed on her ass in the water, cursing all the way down.
Her face flushed a bright red as Isabel hovered over her. “Are you okay?”
Hazel sucked in a sharp breath between her teeth as she grasped her foot. “I stepped on something jagged. A rock, I think. Damn. I sliced my foot open.”
Sliced her foot?
She raised her leg, revealing a bare foot. Of all the idiotic things to do. Why was she wading barefoot in murky water? He’d read an article about her some years ago—it popped up in a simple search, he wasn’t internet-stalking her, nope, definitely not—and read that she had a ridiculously high IQ. Not as smart as her supergenius sister, Ivy, but still well into the genius range. Sean was no genius, but even he knew you didn’t wade barefoot in a submerged forest.
Blood oozed from the bottom of Hazel’s foot and dripped onto her ankle and calf. That was a nasty cut.
With a curse, Sean waded into the water, soaking his good shoes and the bottom six inches of his slacks. He scooped Hazel from the water and held her with one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. Her wet, silt-covered clothing pressed to his chest, drenching him in the same rust-colored water.
She wriggled against him, threatening to upend them both. “I can walk!”
“But you weren’t, and I haven’t got all day. Where are your shoes?”
“I’ll get them,” Isabel said. “You carry her to your car. I’ll get her shoes and the samples and meet you there.”
“I can walk!” Hazel repeated.
“No, you can’t,” he and Isabel said in unison.
At last she settled against him, and he had to admit, it was sort of pleasant to have her there.
Dr. Hazel MacLeod. Witch Hazel. A sorceress who’d inhabited his dreams more often than he cared to admit, and not just since last winter in Grand Cayman, but in the years since they’d met at that dinner party at Rav’s house, not long after the man had purchased Raptor. Sean had been fresh out of the Navy and plotting with his new boss on how to rescue Raptor from the crappy reputation created by its previous owner. Hazel, the boss’s vivacious cousin, had been there, stealing all his attention, threatening to turn him into a complete idiot.
He’d followed her into the garden that night to look at the Milky Way and had been tempted to do things that would cost him his brand-new job.
Not his best moment.
“I can walk, Sean,” she said softly.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I know it was kind of me to ruin my best shoes and suit to help you. So glad you noticed.”
She pursed her lips and let out a heavy sigh. Finally, she said, softly and with no hint of facetiousness, “Thank you, Sean. And it is good to see you.” She looked down and murmured just loud enough for him to hear, “Although I could have done without you seeing me fall on my ass.”
He wanted to make a comment about her fine ass, but she was still his employer’s party-girl cousin and remained off-limits. “How’ve you been?” he asked. He’d worried about her while she was away but hadn’t dared ask Rav or anyone else how she was doing.
She draped her arms around his shoulders, and he adjusted his hold, remembering that night on Grand Cayman when they’d danced and her chest had pressed to his and she’d smelled of flowers and sunblock, which was nothing like her current scent of iron-rich clay and lake water.
“Not great,” she said, surprising him with an honest answer to his question. “I left Croatia early because…” Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat. “Because the nightmares got to be too much. I excavated a grave that was filled with children—eighteen of them, between the ages of six and ten. It was a school. I’ve excavated babies and children before, but…this one was my tipping point. I stopped sleeping. Eating. Sometimes it felt like breathing wasn’t happening either. I decided to come home. Take a break.”
“And you ended up here, in a lake full of bones.”
She shrugged. “Isabel was frantic. The forensic anthropologist at the university is teaching today and couldn’t get away. I’m living with Alec and Isabel until I find a place to live, and I have the expertise. I was the logical choice.”
“You’re living at the estate?” This shouldn’t surprise him. Rav’s home was a mansion with over a dozen bedrooms, and he never shied away from opening his home to family. Hell, before Rav hooked up with Isabel, the mansion had been used as a safe house when they needed a secure place fast.
“For the next month or so, yes.”
“You gonna be okay working on these bones?”
She frowned. “I think so.” Her voice lowered. “I hope so. If I can’t work…” The words trailed off, and he tightened his grip, an embrace under the guise of carrying her.
He reached the parking area and opened the rear door of his SUV with the remote. He set her in the back so she was seated facing out. “I’ve got a first aid kit. We’ll clean up that cut.” He took out the kit, then reached for her foot.
She resisted. “I can do it.”
He merely gave her a look. She sighed and raised her foot so he could see the bottom. He rinsed her sole with water from his canteen, then studied the cut. “Shit. It’s deep.” Bright red blood flowed from the inch-long slit.
He hadn’t been a medic in the Navy, but like all special forces, he’d had extensive training in treating wounds in the field, and his kit was stocked by Raptor, so he had everything he needed to clean the wound, glue it shut, and bandage it to prevent infection and reopening.
As he wrapped gauze around her foot, padding for the wounded arch, he admired her red toenail polish. His interactions with Hazel had always been when she’d been off work, in play mode. She’d always worn airy dresses and toenail polish and her hair down in a flowing auburn curtain. He’d never seen her wearing glasses before and realized from the thickness of the lenses, she must’ve been wearing contact lenses every other time they’d crossed paths.
Except for the toenail polish, this was a different Hazel. Her hair was pulled back, and her glasses had a heavy, dark plastic frame. Sturdy work glasses.
Sexy in a way that wasn’t intended.
He really needed to stop finding everything about her sexy.
He’d just finished wrapping her foot when Isabel and the crew arrived with their field gear and Hazel’s samples. They loaded their gear in their cars, and Sean told them to put the bones on the backseat of his SUV.
“No, they go in the Rover,” Hazel said.
“You can’t drive with this foot.”
“Sure I can. It’s just a cut.”
“We can leave the Rover here tonight, Haze,” Isabel said. “Alec won’t mind, and you need to come back to photograph and do an MNI tomorrow anyway.”
“I suppose,” she said softly.
The sheriff and utility workers left. Hazel scooted forward and slid from the SUV’s open hatch, placing all her weight on her left foot, which now was encased in her wet and muddy sneaker. Before Sean could step up to help her to the passenger side of the vehicle, Isabel moved forward and offered her shoulder. “Lean on me.”
Hazel did, and Isabel guided her to the front passenger door. Hazel used the inside handhold to pull herself up into the seat. Before she turned, Isabel placed a hand on her knee. “You okay? You know I wouldn’t have called you if it hadn’t been urgent.”
Sean watched the interaction between the two women, appreciating the display of genuine friendship. Isabel and Hazel were closer than he’d realized.
Hazel nodded. “I’m fine. It… I didn’t see any children’s bones. So far, none of the bones are small.”
“I’ll make calls tomorrow. Someone else can take over analysis. I just needed you today to get the sheriff off my back. Now that we’ve established the need to examine the remains, we can move slower.”
“No. I can do it. I think it’ll be good for me. Back in the saddle. Dr. Parks will probably approve.” She gave Isabel a hopeful smile, and Sean felt a twinge in his chest. He was such a sucker for her smile.
Isabel’s reaction wasn’t what Sean expected. “Shit! Dr. Parks! You were supposed to see her again this afternoon.”
“Don’t worry. I called and rescheduled for Wednesday morning.”
“Wow. I’m impressed she was able to squeeze you in that fast.”
“Well, Alec is paying her big bucks to fix me.”
“Good point. I think I financed her vacation home.”
Sean guessed Isabel was referring to the therapy she’d gone through after what had happened to her in Alaska three years ago. He stepped forward and offered Hazel her purse, which he’d grabbed from the Range Rover before locking it. “Was there anything else you need?” he asked.
She shook her head as Isabel climbed in the backseat. He circled around to the driver’s side, and a minute later, they were leaving the parking area. It would take an hour to get to Isabel and Rav’s estate from here.
He hoped to hell when they got there, Rav would explain why he’d sent Sean on this errand.