Free Bones by Jan Burke Page B

as if ridding himself of the memory of the tree. He bent down to pet Bingle. "So you've found Mrs. Sayre, eh, Bingle?"
    "We don't know who or what this is yet, J.C.," Ben reminded him, handing him a pair of gloves. "We haven't even opened the plastic."
    "Well," the ranger said, looking amused, "the plastic seems to rule out an American Indian burial site, and I can tell you that there aren't any legal cemeteries in this meadow, and no hunting allowed here, either. So whoever or whatever it is, it doesn't belong here."
    "When will the plane be back?" I asked him.
    "Tomorrow, weather permitting. Some rain in the forecast, so they might be delayed a day or so. Did you bring rain gear?"
    I nodded.
    "We'd better get back to work," Ben said. "The last thing I want to cope with is a flooded site."
    J.C. had apparently done this work before, but even with his help, things could only progress at a certain pace. Eventually, the top surface of the plastic was uncovered. It was a dull, dark green. It appeared to be of a heavier gauge than the plastic used to make trash bags, more like the type used for ground cover by landscapers.
    Thompson paced, muttering none-too-quietly about guys who think they're working on a pharaoh's tomb instead of a crime scene; about wishing to God he could bring in a backhoe; damning Parrish's hide for picking this place out beyond East Jesus to bury a body--and other unhelpful remarks that made life a little less pleasant for everyone within earshot.
    Ben didn't gratify Thompson with a response. He walked over to him, though, while Andy, J.C., and David stood back from the grave to allow more photographs to be taken of the lumpy plastic.
    "We want to dig down a little more on the sides," Ben told the detective, "just to see if we can find the edge of the plastic. We'd prefer to keep it intact. But if we can't find an edge, we'll go ahead and cut it open."
    Thompson looked up into the sky and said, "Thank you, Lord!"
    "We aren't being careful just to irritate you," Ben said. "My guess is that the plastic wrapping, the cool temperatures and altitude here, the lack of animal disturbance--"
    "What is it you're trying to say?" Thompson snapped.
    "In terms you'll understand?" Ben shot back.
    Thompson's face was red, but he said, "As a matter of fact, yes--I'd like the nonegghead version."
    Ben looked away from him for a moment, as if trying to regain his temper. "This body may be--let's see, in 'nonegghead' terms? It may be a little soupy. With this much odor, I don't believe we'll be looking at completely skeletonized remains--what we're smelling is not just the scent of bones. That's one reason why I'm not sure these remains are four years old--perhaps they are, perhaps they aren't. If they aren't--you may have a different victim here."
    "Yes, you mentioned that possibility earlier, but--"
    Ben raised a hand, and Thompson--with a visible effort--held his peace.
    "There are lots of 'ifs' here, Detective--if the remains are human, if this is a homicide and if this is not Julia Sayre--if all those conditions are met, you will obviously have a new set of charges you can bring against Parrish."
    Seeing he had Thompson's interest, he went on. "Obviously, you can bring new charges only if we can prove that he's the one who put this body here. We're going slowly, because trace evidence that will link Parrish--or anyone else--to this crime may have been left in the surrounding soil, and if so, we want to find it."
    Ben paused and smiled, not very pleasantly, then added, "Just think, Detective Thompson, if this is a different victim, you'll go back to Las Piernas a hero."
    "The D.A.'s deal with Parrish wasn't exactly popular, was it?" Thompson said. "We weren't too happy with it."
    "The police weren't the only ones who were outraged that Parrish was protected from the death penalty. I think the D.A. has regretted it. That's partly why Ms. Kelly was allowed to join us, right?"
    Thompson looked over at me and nodded.