Free Gone and Done It by Maggie Toussaint Page B

Carolina is so exacting, I knew I’d better fix it. Only the stake wouldn’t go in. Something was in the way.
    “It should have gone in. I dug that hole myself. Nothing but sand and peat moss down there.” I paused for a breath. “So I dug down to find the obstruction. That’s when I found the woman’s hand.”
    “The victim is a woman?”
    “Yes.”
    “How do you know that?”
    I shrugged. “I just do.”
    He stilled, the intensity in the vehicle amping up a few notches. “What else do you know?”
    “Nothing. I couldn’t bring myself to go over there again. I believe she’s our age. She’s someone’s daughter. Or wife or sister.”
    He glanced over at the sagging tent. “We have no missing women reported in our county.”
    “She came from somewhere.”
    “Can’t you tap into the woo-woo stuff and tell me who she is?”
    “Not today. Besides, if I consult for you, I expect to get paid for my work.”
    He covered my trembling hands with his capable ones. “You don’t have the stomach for this work, babe.”
    My heart agreed with him. My pocketbook did not. I chose my words with care. “This was a nasty surprise. It rattled me. I admit it. But I didn’t run screaming from the scene. I called you and waited here. I’ll bet even your seasoned officers would hurl if they’d dug up a rotting corpse.”
    I glanced over my shoulder at the tented area. Near the dogwood, Ronnie held a cloth handkerchief to his mouth. When I turned back, I saw Wayne had noted his deputy’s distress.
    “You may be right,” he admitted.
    “I know I’m right. Cut a rookie a little slack.”
    He turned down the heat and was quiet for a minute. Windshield wipers cleared the droplets off the glass. “You see the paper today?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Charlotte wrote a front-page feature about the mystery people you dug up out here. She came right out and said we’d dug up old bones dating from another era.”
    “So?”
    “So, Running Wolf and Gentle Dove have been marching outside the funeral home all morning. They claim the bones belong to their Native American ancestors and demand they be given the honor and respect they deserve. They’ve mobilized the regional tribes to mount a major protest. We’ve already had calls from network news in Savannah.”
    I swore under my breath. This notoriety would anger Carolina Byrd. “We have to shut that down.”
    “I agree, but the damage is done. The state archaeologist and I have an interview with a television reporter late this afternoon.”
    My empty stomach lurched. I fought a battle with nausea and won. “My client won’t like this.”
    “Neither do I.”

C HAPTER 13
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    An hour later, the rain stopped, but judging by the leaden sky, more was on the way. Thanks to the sheriff, I’d mostly dried out, and my hands had stopped trembling. My hair was still a sodden mess. I tugged off my ball cap and undid the ponytail, combing through my wet hair with my fingers.
    Outside the sheriff’s SUV, where I’d been told to sit, Mallow bustled with activity. Virg and Ronnie dug up the body and stood around with their hands in their pockets trying to look busy. Wayne snapped pictures of the dead woman. The show began when the coroner and the state archaeologist arrived. I rolled down the window to listen.
    “I’m taking over this case,
Dr.
Seavey.” The state archaeologist gave extra emphasis to our coroner’s title. Gail Bergeron’s tone was as crisp as the pressed pleats in her immaculate sea-foam green coveralls. “The board will sanction you for your inappropriate conduct. This time you won’t wheedle your way out of it. This time the charges will stick.”
    For a slight woman, Gail sure packed a lot of heat into her words. What had our skeletal and oversexed coroner done to earn her scorn? Had he made a pass at his blond superior? Had he screwed up a case? He’d been the county coroner forever. If he’d mishandled cases, Sinclair County could be forced to revisit