Classified Cowboy. Mallory Kane
Читать онлайн книгу.
muttered.
After an ineffectual attempt to get mud off her black hoodie and jeans, and a defeated glance at her favorite work boots, which were beyond any help she could give them tonight, Nina took a hot shower.
By the time she had slipped on a bright red camisole and panties and was ready for bed, her mind was racing with her impressions of the burial site.
She settled into bed with both pillows behind her back and the pad and pen she always kept in her purse. She rested her pad on her bent knee and wrote the date, the location and her name. Beneath that she jotted a note to herself.
Ref: report of State Highway Dept regarding unearthing of remains. Attach copy.
Then she let her thoughts float freely. She’d type up an official report later on her laptop, but right now what mattered was getting her first impressions down before she lost them.
Incredible find. Texas Ranger Lieutenant Wyatt Colter has claimed it as his crime scene, but it’s likely to be of archeological significance. Appearance consistent with indigenous burial grounds.
Important to note that condition of the find suggests a possible hoax. Three unique thigh bones, laid out in a star pattern. Accidental? Or placed by someone? All three femurs appear to be of recent origin. The largest is certainly male. But I need to measure and examine all three to estimate gender.
Nina stopped and closed her eyes. Bones were her business, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the idea of handling remains that could turn out to be those of her best friend.
A wave of nausea slithered through her, and her eyes pricked with tears. What if one of the bones was Marcie’s?
Marcie. Sweet and kind, but impulsive, and maybe even a little bit self-destructive. Definitely not the best judge of character.
“Oh, Marcie, what did you get yourself into?”
Nina shook off the renewed grief over losing her friend. She couldn’t afford to get emotional. She needed to concentrate on the bones.
She reached for her camera and viewed the flash photos she’d taken.
She tried to view the three thigh bones in close-up, but the exposures were too dark. She’d have to send them to Pete, the graphics expert at the university, to have them corrected and enhanced.
She glanced at her laptop. She ought to send the photos tonight so Pete could get to work on them as soon as he got in tomorrow. The sooner she got the enhanced photos back, the sooner she could make more specific determinations of age, sex and time of death.
Still, in the morning she’d be able to look at the bones themselves. She glanced at her watch and yawned. Tonight it was more important to get her first impressions down on paper.
She continued writing.
Bones too covered with dirt and mud to tell much more. Already dark when we arrived at the site at 8:30 p.m.
History. (See fax from Ranger captain.) Two days ago road workers were breaking ground for a state route on land owned by Jonah Becker when they unearthed bones, which the foreman suspected were human.
The foreman stopped the ground breaking and called Sheriff Reed Hardin, who called the county medical examiner. The ME found the bodies “too decomposed and mixed up to identify” (i.e., skeletonized) and requested help from forensics experts.
Because of the state of decomposition and the fact that three people have disappeared from the area in the past five years, Sheriff Hardin called in the Texas Rangers, who were responsible—
Nina paused, then crossed out that last word.
—who were involved in one of the disappearances. The Rangers put together a Special Investigations Task Force.
Nina paused, clicking the cap of the ballpoint pen she held. If the site was a Native American burial ground …
Her pulse jumped slightly. She couldn’t deny her excitement. New burial sites were rare. A junior professor getting a chance to be the principal on such a find was even rarer.
In fact, she wasn’t sure why Professor Mayfield had acquiesced so easily when she’d asked him to let her take his place on this task force. Maybe he already knew the site wasn’t old.
That thought gave her mixed feelings. She’d love to have a significant find with her name on it. On the other hand, she couldn’t forget the real reason she’d requested to be on this task force. That could be Marcie lying out there. If it was, then she deserved a proper burial, as well as closure.
Nina clicked the pen angrily. Who was she kidding? If her best friend had been murdered, she deserved vengeance.
Nina twisted her thick black hair in her left fist and lifted it off her neck. Glancing down at the pad, she saw that she’d written vengeance and then underlined it three times.
She crossed through it and took a deep breath. Okay, Dr. Jacobson. Get it together. You’re a professional.
Plan: Tomorrow students will construct a plywood platform from which we can extract the bones with as little disturbance of the site as possible. Until I can determine whether the site or any part of it is of archeological significance (a historic burial site), I am compelled to treat the entire site thusly.
First order of business: take samples of the three femurs for physical examination, dating and DNA extraction.
Nina chewed on the cap of the pen and read back over what she’d written, but she found it hard to concentrate. At least she’d gotten her first impressions down. She could add to it tomorrow.
She set the pad and pen on the bedside table, set her cell phone alarm for 7:00 a.m., and then turned off the lamp and sank down into the warm bed. But light from a streetlamp reflected off her camera lens. She turned her back to it.
It would take only five minutes to transfer the photos and send them.
“Tomorrow,” she whispered to herself.
Tonight, the camera taunted her.
Sighing, she threw back the covers and turned on the lamp. She retrieved her laptop and booted it up, then grabbed the camera and transferred the photos into an e-mail and sent it off to Pete.
By the time she was done, her arms and legs were thoroughly chilled. She turned off the lamp and dove under the covers.
Despite how tired she felt, it took her a long time to fall asleep. To her surprise, it wasn’t thoughts of the burial site or the identities of the remains buried there that kept her awake.
The image that seemed burned into the insides of her eyelids was of Wyatt Colter lying in a matching double bed not forty feet from hers, his broad bare shoulders and torso dark against the white sheets. Was he also having trouble sleeping?
Even if he was, she doubted it was because he was picturing her lying in bed this close to him. More likely, if he were fantasizing about her, it was a dream of watching her mud-covered backside recede as he ran her out of town.
She sniffed and squeezed her eyes shut. She had no idea why she couldn’t stop thinking of Wyatt Colter. Probably she was just too tired to concentrate on anything rational, and too excited about the case to calm her mind for sleep.
She concentrated on her breathing, counting each breath until she dozed off. But as soon as sleep claimed her, an image of Wyatt rose in her vision—in boxers. In briefs. In nothing.
“Stop it, Nina!” she growled as she turned over and pounded the pillow again.
Finally her breathing relaxed, and her brain began to banish the sensual but disturbing images.
A SHRILL RING pierced Nina’s eardrums.
She