“We’ve definitely got a skeleton,” she said, her voice charged with satisfaction. “It’ll take us another few hours to get him out.”
Colin stepped forward. “Him?”
“Bones aren’t my thing, but I’m betting male. Look at the size of the humerus.”
Noah joined the cluster around what they now knew was a grave. The soil lacked the reddish tint that was common in the area, the result of relatively recent volcanic activity. The curve of skull was visible, emerging from the soil, as was the arch of ribs and the bones of one arm. From the position, it appeared it had lain across his chest or belly when the dirt came down on top of him.
Colin, who had squatted behind the woman he called Linda, glanced over his shoulder and met Noah’s eyes. The silent moment of communication didn’t call for words.
Noah had seen enough. Cait would be waiting to hear.
* * *
CAIT THOUGHT SHE might go crazy. Forbidden from leaving city hall during the day, therefore unable to personally inspect sites, visit ongoing projects or meet with anyone outside her office, she could do about half the job. Otherwise, she was supervised by one of the two men in her life, both alpha males who assumed she’d jump when told to jump and who looked vaguely surprised when she expressed even the slightest bit of frustration. She wondered if they had any idea how much they had in common.
Kindness was one of the qualities they shared, fairness reminded her. Noah had stopped by her office yesterday afternoon to let her know what had been uncovered beneath the patio. He didn’t linger, but must have known how tensely she was waiting to hear the news.
Midmorning today, Jane Vahalik knocked and came in. “I’m sure you know the remains are now with the medical examiner,” she began.
Cait nodded. “Has he learned anything yet?”
“So far, all we’ve been told is that the bones definitely belonged to a male, a big guy, likely in his forties.”
“How will you be able to identify him?”
“If he was reported missing, that won’t be a problem given dental records. Otherwise, it will be a bigger challenge.”
A little surprised the lieutenant was being so open with her, Cait decided to push it. “Do you know what killed him?”
Jane eyed her for a minute and then seemed to make a decision. “Likely gunshots. We found two bullets below him. The body decomposed and, uh…”
She couldn’t help the shudder. “I get the picture.”
“May I sit down?”
Cait half rose. “Of course you can! I’m sorry.”
Jane pulled a chair closer to Cait’s desk and settled in. “Let’s talk about what you saw the day the patio was poured.”
“I told Colin—”
“Tell me.” Her tone was pleasant but implacable.
Resigned, Cait repeated the story, ending with the handprints.
“All right, let’s go back. Obviously, you recognized Mr. Hegland immediately.”
“I heard his voice, so I already knew it was him.”
“Tell me what he was wearing, if you can recall.”
Cait opened her mouth to ask what possible difference that made, but she realized the lieutenant was trying to get her to see the scene—including the other man.
She closed her eyes and tried to become that girl, crouched behind the fence with one eye to the crack, not even sure why she cared what the two men were up to.
I might not have, if they hadn’t been so angry. Or was it tense?
She remembered being a little chilly because it was such early morning. At first she’d just knelt, but finally she’d sat cross-legged on the shaggy grass even though her butt got damp through the denim of her jeans. Funny, she could look down and see her jeans, one of the ratty pairs she wore on weekends. Mom got mad if she wore her school clothes any other time. These had a big rip that allowed her bony knee to poke out.
“That’s good,” Jane murmured, and Cait realized she’d been talking out loud.
“Jerry wore khaki trousers and a sweatshirt that he took off not long after I started watching. He kept swiping at his forehead with his forearm. I remember big patches of sweat under his arms and even between his shoulder blades. His hair was kind of wet and poking up. He was really filthy.” She giggled, and it was a little girl’s giggle. “They used lots of really bad words. Dad did, too, but Mom always tried to shush him when I was around. Except…” When he was drunk. Then Mom, afraid of him, didn’t even try.