Free Murder Bone by Bone by Lora Roberts

Sam added.
    “Okay, we can talk about the road construction. What about your trip to the Peninsula Creamery?”
    “Yes, we had beer!” Sam licked his lips, remembering.
    We made the call, and between the boys both talking at once on separate extensions and Bridget getting so excited to hear from them, the bones weren’t mentioned. Emery did ask about the dump truck, and Sam told him, with great disappointment, that the men hadn’t dumped the bones in it. But Corky was off on a tangent immediately, and Emery didn’t follow up on it.
    When we hung up, I was limp with relief.
    Drake tucked the boys in, then came out to the living room. “That was fun,” he said. “Haven’t read Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel in several decades.”
    I dropped into a chair. “I’m exhausted.”
    “No wonder.” He stood behind me and rubbed my neck and shoulders. It felt good. “You’ve had a very hard day.”
    “Tomorrow has to be better, though.” I let my head fall forward. “Unless the kids discover a toxic waste site or something. And Monday they go to school all day.”
    “Poor Liz.” His hands rotating over my shoulders did amazing things to my insides. “At least I’ll be around tomorrow.”
    “I may not.” He stopped rubbing, and I sat up. “I was thinking about taking the kids somewhere. Then you and Richard could dig to your hearts’ content.”
    “Might be a good idea.”
    “But only if you’re going to be here. I can’t abandon Biddy’s house to those archaeologists.”
    “I’ll be here.” He began to smile. “So you’re going to take four kids on an excursion single-handed? That’s brave.”
    “Claudia might go with me.” I stood up. “And I’ll need my rest.”
    Drake took the hint. I walked him to the door, and he kissed me before he left. He’d been doing that for a little while now. It was getting harder and harder to pretend these were just California kisses between friends.
    Nevertheless, after he’d gone, I did pretend that. I phoned Claudia, who agreed to go with us on an expedition the next day. Then I walked around the house, accompanied by Barker, locking all the doors and turning out lights.
    I was keyed up, not ready to sleep. Bridget and Emery had bookcases everywhere, bulging with books. Emery’s books on solid-state-this and algorithm-that didn’t interest me. But Bridget’s books were like a smorgasbord to a dieter. I chose Villette to take into bed with me, and only for a minute or two did I think about a different choice I could have made.
     

Chapter 8
     
    I got up early to pack everything I could find to eat into a knapsack, along with Bridget’s family membership card for the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, thoughtfully included with her pages of instructions.
    I made pancakes for breakfast, not quite up to Bridget’s standards, but the boys didn’t seem to notice. Halfway through the second batch, Barker left his post under the kitchen table and raced to the front door, ears alert. Corky ran into the living room and climbed on the window seat. “Those arkenologists are back!”
    Sam abandoned his pancakes to climb up beside his brother. “They’re digging up our bones again!”
    I stood behind them, looking at the battered white van. "They're down to the sidewalk level already. Probably removing what you guys did was the easy part.” Drake’s car pulled up. He hopped out, gave Richard a curt nod, and headed up the front walk.
    “I don’t wanna go to the museum,” Corky whined with his nose plastered to the window. “I wanna stay and help them dig.”
    Drake walked in in time to hear this. "That’s all I need,” he said.
    “Relax. We’re leaving.” I crammed a bottle of juice and a stack of little paper cups into the knapsack. “But Barker’s staying. Can you keep an eye on him? He likes to dig, too.”
    “I’m in charge of an investigation here,” Drake said, “not dog-sitting.”
    “Okay, I’ll stop by my place and