Free Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) by Mae Fox, Jan Fields Page A

there’s something big down there, and it’s not natural.”
    Daniel bounced on his toes, grinning widely. “That’s step one. We’ll start drilling tests to map out the exact location of the hull, then we can start in earnest. We’re on our way.” He turned his grin toward the reporter, who was picking her way across the uneven ground. “So what do you think now?”
    She shrugged and nodded toward George. “This guy is a friend of yours. This could all be something you made up to entice investors. Then you pocket the money and run.”
    “Pocket the money!” Daniel’s voice rose. “I’m a respected historian, not a con man. I would never risk my professional reputation on a hoax.”
    The woman’s smile was tight and cold. “That’s not what I heard.”
    “Heard from whom?” Daniel stormed toward the reporter. She backed away. Julie was impressed to see the woman at least had some survival instinct.
    “I don’t reveal my sources,” the woman snapped, though she kept backing up.
    Daniel continued to follow her, shouting. “You need to be surer of your facts before you start spouting slander!”
    The reporter tripped on something on the rough ground and fell onto her back. Julie smiled as she realized the woman seemed to have found a nice muddy spot to land.
    Daniel held out a hand to help her up. “Are you all right?”
    The reporter’s voice rose to a howl as she ignored Daniel’s hand and scrambled to her feet. “My clothes are ruined! Your aggressive behavior made me fall. You are crazy.”
    Julie shook her head as she walked closer. “Don’t be absurd. The combination of inappropriate shoes and rough terrain made you fall.” Then she stopped. Something was protruding sharply from the ground, and it didn’t look like a rock. She knelt and touched the object. “Daniel, what’s this?”
    He dropped to his knees, ignoring the still-sputtering reporter. He dug into the damp ground, slowly scraping away enough mud to make one thing very clear. It wasn’t a rock.
    It was a bone.
    “A bone!” the reporter shrieked. “This is a body dump site?”
    “It’s a little soon to jump to conclusions,” Daniel said, still digging. George and Joseph quickly joined him, scraping away mud from the bone to reveal more and more of it.
    “It looks like a thigh bone,” Joseph said.
    “Look at the size of that thing,” the reporter said, her voice breathy with excitement as she snapped photos with her phone. “The man buried there must have been a giant!” She glanced at her watch, squealed, and ran for her car.
    Daniel groaned. “Please tell me this isn’t human remains. If we have to call in the authorities, I’ll never get this dig going.”
    “I don’t think it is,” Joseph said. “As the lady pointed out, it’s awfully long. I’m thinking horse or maybe a mule. I could call the vet who takes care of our cows. I bet he could tell you what animal it is.”
    “That would be fantastic. Thanks.”
    They finished uncovering the bone as they waited for the vet. When it was finally free, Julie had to admit, it looked like a leg bone to her. Not that she saw a lot of bones. The antiquities recovery profession wasn’t that exciting. No one had ever hired her to recover human remains.
    One thing she did notice in all the excitement: The mysterious offer on the farm was totally forgotten. But Julie suspected the offer might only be the first event. She looked across the wide farmland. Anyone who could throw around enough money to buy this place probably had other optionsfor disrupting Daniel’s work. The question that nagged at Julie was … why? Why would anyone care about an old steamboat? She didn’t have an answer, but she had a bad feeling about it. And her bad feelings were rarely wrong.

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    T he Winkler farm quickly became the most talked-about piece of land in Straussberg, Missouri. Although the veterinarian declared that the bone came from a mule, the story about a “giant” buried