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CHAD TURNED THE JEEP off at the end of the access road, but didn't get out. He stared at the wheel for a moment before looking over at Nel. “Have you been back to the site? Since it happened, I mean?”
Nel refused to meet his eyes. “I was here when Lin looked it over.”
“But you were performing then. You had your tough-girl mask on.”
“I don't have a mask.”
“Nonsense, Nel. Everyone does. And just because it's a mask doesn't mean it isn't real.” He reached over and took her hand. “Yours is this badass, driven, woman that never compromises, never weakens, never cries. But there's more underneath. Someday you're not going to recognize yourself, though.”
Nel stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. She already didn't, sometimes. “I didn't think I was a griever. I didn't think I was a crier.”
“Your best friend is dead. Weeping isn't weakness.” Chad squeezed her hand.
“I did cry. Lin gave me a few minutes alone.” So why did she feel like tears still threatened? “I'm mostly just angry.”
“You're always angry, but you're going to have to learn how to actually feel.” He nodded towards the site. “Come on, let's clean this place up. Nothing will tire out your rage like backfilling an entire grid.”
She managed a smile. “I bet I can do it faster.”
“You're on.”
•
NEL BANGED THE DOOR open, running a hand through her mop of hair. “Fuck, I smell bad enough to fell an elephant.” She turned to see Lin perched on a stool, a tall glass of something clear before her. “Sorry, Lin, I don’t mean to be so distractingly sexy.”
Lin’s gaze flicked from her book to Nel. “You’re filthy.”
A sly smile curled Nel’s mouth. She leaned back, propped on the counter top. Dirt tumbled from her forearms. She cocked her hip, tank top riding up and showing the band of her boxer-briefs. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never seen a woman get dirty.”
Lin’s expression was forcibly unreadable. “I’ve seen archaeologists come out of the field without looking like they slept in their units.”
Nel shoved herself away from the counter and sauntered toward the fridge. “Then they were doing it wrong. We’re feral—we’re not meant to be clean. Besides, we were backfilling.” She pulled out the lemonade and poured herself a glass before adding more than enough tequila. After a few deep gulps, she set the glass aside and crossed her arms. “Thank you.”
Lin’s gaze had returned to her book. “For?”
“For overseeing this yourself. It means something that you came to try and reopen the site in person.” She shifted her weight. “I know this is probably not your idea of a dream assignment, and I can only imagine what you’re writing home to your girlfriend. But thanks nonetheless.”
Lin closed her book carefully and pushed it aside. She folded her arms on the counter and leaned forward. “Nel, for someone whose world just got turned upside down, you’re awfully quick to assume. You know nothing of who sent me here or why I requested this assignment. I’d love to have a chat about it, but maybe a conversation that has less snide judgment.” Her lips quirked just enough to soften the hard words. “Care for a drink?”
Nel’s grin broadened. “Your treat?”
“Surely you can pay, considering your funding’s back.”
Nel snorted and headed for the stairs. “I guess I’ll go shower.”
“You’d best. Wouldn’t want to upset the other diners with how distractingly sexy you are.”
•
NEL TOWELED OFF HER hair in front of the mirror. She usually threw on anything, but this felt different. She and Lin danced around each other, both vying for power like it was a drug. Nel had always loved alpha women, and Lin was a whole new breed. The collared shirt was old and a bit faded, but it looked damn good over her dressier pair of men’s jeans. She dug out an old bolo tie from grad school and tossed it around her popped collar. She even traded her work boots for her old pair of Frye boots. Am I trying to impress her because she's badass or because I want in her pants? Nel grinned at her reflection in the mirror. Either way, I look good.
She took the stairs two at a time, reveling in the familiar clomp of her soles on the worn wood. Of course, Lin already waited at the counter. She looked like she hired a team of stylists. Nel’s confidence tripped on the last stair as she caught sight of Lin. I wonder if she’s trying just as hard. She pulled a lazy smile onto her face and jerked her head at the door. “Mind walking?”
Lin fell into step beside her, her long legs making up for Nel’s broad strides. “So are you planning on going to the same bar?”
“It’s my favorite. Did you have something fancier in mind?”
“Fancier? Why do you think I’m a debutante?”
“You just feel cultured. Besides, you’re dressed nicely.”
“As are you.”
Nel raised her hands in mock surrender. “Point. I thought it’d be best if we matched. They can think we’re celebrating as opposed to you being kind enough to take a homeless woman out for dinner.” She held open the screen door for the taller woman.
Lin laughed, a genuine, soft sound. “I’m sure no one would actually think that. How's this?” She pointed to two empty seats at the bar.
Nel shrugged. “Looks great. I knew a woman who had someone toss change into her coffee cup on the T. She was wearing her field clothes and had a bad day. They thought she was panhandling. At least it was Starbucks they ruined.” Nel waved Jerod over and ordered her usual.
“Scotch, please.” Lin turned back to Nel. “You’ve got style.” She leaned forward, peering at the bolo. “Is that an artifact you’re wearing around your neck?”
Nel lifted the point for the other woman to see better. “No, it’s something a friend of mine made. I had another friend who dabbles in jewelry wrap it for me.”
Lin glanced up without pulling away. “It’s the same brown as your eyes.”
“Munsungan chert, heat treated. It’s a paleo raw material from the north-eastern U.S. I’ve never encountered it myself, but the color went with my theme.”
“Earth tones?” Lin’s hand was still nestled at Nel’s collarbone.
“Dirt tones.” Nel pulled away. Lin confused her. She was strong and fun, but had the power to rip Nel’s work apart. I’ve had enough fucked-up shit the past two weeks to last me a lifetime. Mikey’s absence was a steady ache that sharpened each time Nel turned to talk to him. Lin was a fun distraction, but Nel guessed that was all she would be. “So what’s your dissertation on? Why’d you pick this?”
“I’m studying the culture of modern archaeology in relation to other similar professions. I thought a site continuously in danger of vandalism was just the ticket.”
“A site that is now part of a murder investigation?” The words were biting and Nel didn’t care.
Lin looked down at her own drink with a soft sigh. “My timing wasn’t ideal. I’ve had some politics to wrestle.”
Their drinks arrived and Nel took a long sip to hide the awkward silence. “You grew up here?”
“No, little remote place. My brother and I learned Chilean Spanish young, so it comes easily to me.”
“You’re close?”
“Closest. I haven’t been home to see him in a long time though.”
Nel stared at the swirls of mixing alcohol in her glass. “You must miss him.”
Lin glanced up, her gaze heavy and clear on Nel’s face. “Tell me about your friend — Michael Servais.”
“Mikey. Everyone called him Mikey. I’ve known him since undergrad. I drunkenly hit him up at a bar for a classmate that was too shy. She broke his heart and I got a best friend. Kindest heart I’ve ever met.”
“He was a teacher too?”
“Better than I could ever be. He has that gentle patience that’s so important. I think the school would rather he be head of the prehistorics department, but he won’t apply for it. He liked teaching, not bureaucracy.”
“And you do?”
Nel shrugged. “I’m not a fan of people in general.”
Lin’s laugh was slow and easy. “I wish I’d met him.”
Nel snorted. “He would have spent the whole time trying to set us up.”
•
NEL GHOSTED DOWN THE stairs. She couldn't sleep, even after two hours of drinking at the bar. She paused on the last landing, eyes narrowed. The dim light over the kitchen island was on. She padded into the hall and peered around the door.
Lin sat with her back to Nel, peering at the blue glow of her laptop screen. Nel rolled her eyes. Lin may have been growing on her, but she still wanted the kitchen to herself in the morning. She slid onto the stool beside the other woman, glancing at the screen. Next to an x-ray of a clavicle and cervical vertebrae was an image of bloody asphalt. “What're you looking at?”
Lin clicked the computer shut. “Dr. Servais' autopsy report was just filed. A colleague of mine got a hold of it for me.”
Nel's stomach lurched. That was blood. That was Mikey's blood. “Let me see it.”
“I really don't think that's a good idea.”
“Let me fucking see it.” Her blood pounded in her ears. A chasm yawned in front of her thoughts, a dark pit of grief and uncertainty she was not ready to face.
Lin sighed and slid the computer across the island before standing by the fridge. Nel pushed the laptop open. “What's your password?”
“Starfall, capital 'S' and no spaces.”
Nel flicked through the x-rays. Broken clavicle. Broken neck. Crushed temporal plate. Shattered knees and left tibia. She pressed her knuckles to her mouth, teeth digging purple crescents into the skin. Her stomach was a pit of snakes.
The autopsy was standard. Stark lighting turned ligature into bloody purple blossoms. Mikey’s hair was too neat, the curls combed back against his head.
The kettle's scream snapped her from the autopsy room to the house's kitchen.
“Are you alright?”
Nel swallowed hard, once, twice. She cleared emotions from her throat. “I don't know.”
Lin slid a mug of coffee across the counter.
Nel was suddenly grateful that the other woman refrained from an “I told you so.” She drew a shaking breath.
“I think I'm going to file some of the artifacts.” She pushed away from the table and moved up the stairs. Her face may have been blank, but her thoughts whirled. She had seen those injuries before. She shut the door and briskly stowed the artifacts still on the desk. She ripped the sheet from the bed and draped it over the bare desk before retrieving the burial remains. The bones were soft, too light to be stone, too hard to be wood. She gathered the several bags that were flagged. The red tag denoted the bones within had peri- or ante-mortem damage. She laid them out anatomically, her hands shaking. She didn't see weathered, brown bones. She saw a ski-jump nose and the slight surprise of a scarred eyebrow. The worn remains before her didn't make a person. They were an echo of the space he or she had once occupied, but they weren't a human. The photos of Mikey were just as hollow. It was as if all the pieces of a favorite toy were reassembled without the stuffing.
She pulled out her field book and sketched a roughly anatomical stick person. She mentally applauded herself for paying such close attention during her osteology courses. Double lines denoted a broken clavicle. Chipping on the C2 may have been from a blunt blow.
She continued through all the bones that were clearly damaged. The injuries were uncannily similar to those on Mikey's autopsy report.
Chad's patterned knock startled a gasp from her. “Hey, I’m throwing together some lunch, want any?”
“I'm not hungry, thanks though.”
He paused, the floor outside creaking as if he debated entering. “Lin said you might need a bit of time. I’ll call up when it’s done if you want some.”
Nel hummed, not really hearing. She did not hear the stairs mutter under his retreat nor Lin’s polite call that dinner was ready hours later. By the time Nel looked up, it was fully dark and her eyes ached from squinting.