A Rumor of Bones: A Lindsay Chamberlain Mystery (10 page)

"My reputation far surpasses the reality. I'm not
casual either."

Lindsay laughed again. "I would fall in love with
you, and you would break my heart."

"I would never."

"I'll take one more kiss, if you've a mind, then I'll
go to my tent and sleep alone."

Derrick pulled her into his arms and gave her his
best.

In the morning the sheriff sent word that the Pruitts
had identified some of the clothes Derrick had found
at the crime scene. With that and Lindsay's report, he
released the bones for burial. Lindsay was glad it was
over.

The scouts had arrived at the site and had set up
camp in an adjoining field. Lindsay tried to give each
a little time working on a burial, because among the
site crew burials were considered a treat. But she
found to her amazement that some of the scouts were
afraid to touch the bones. She watched one boy's hand shake as he tried to use a wooden tongue depressor to scrape dirt away from a long bone. She was
astonished that he was afraid of the remains of a
people she thought of as friends.

Most of the scouts' time, however, was seized by
Ned to remove the overburden in the new section he
was so impatient to uncover. Lindsay thought he
would be happy now, or at least less combative, but
Frank's refusal to give him the number of professional crew he wanted and Frank's insistence that he
supervise Ned's work made Ned furious. Lindsay
overheard them argue on a number of occasions.

"Dammit, you act like I can't lead an excavation!"
Ned yelled.

"Ned, we need to have consistent methodology
throughout the site. I don't question your abilities,
only your stubbornness"

"Great, that's just great..."

All the arguments usually ended with Ned stomping off to his corner of the site.

Lindsay had looked forward all day to her work that
evening on the skull of Burial 23. She smoothed and
refined the formerly roughed-out features, willing
her fingers to bring an expression of life into the
clay. Late into the night, she stopped and looked at
the face that stared back at her with blank eyes.
Whoever she had been, she was a handsome woman
with a very proud face and a well-shaped head.
Lindsay wondered what her story was, wondered if
anyone she once knew was here in this town or if she
were now an anonymous person who could only talk
to archaeologists. Even to them her ability to com municate was reduced by lack of context. Burial 23
couldn't tell Lindsay as much about her life as could
the 500-year-old Indians with whom she had been
buried.

Derrick knocked on her tent pole. "I saw your light
on," he said as he entered. He was wearing a pair of
shorts, and his mane of hair was in disarray as if he
had just risen from sleep. "So that's 23," he said,
pulling up a chair and raking his fingers through his
hair. "Nice looking chick."

"Yes," agreed Lindsay, "I wonder who she was and
who shot her?"

"Has it occurred to you that there's been entirely
too much murder on this dig?" Derrick commented as
he studied the roughed-out clay face.

"Yes, there has. I'm glad you're about finished
with the crime scene."

"Me, too. I'm ready to get back to the Indians.
They were quite gentle people, compared to the citizenry of Merry Claymoore. I'm going back to bed.
Wanna come?"

"I'm too tired."

"Always an excuse. By the way, this Saturday night
suit you?"

"Dancing? Fine. I can't wait. By the way, we're
going to have to practice a little before we go. How
long has it been since you've done any lifts?"

"Since we last danced. I'll find a place. Unite,
Lindsay."

"Sweet dreams, Derrick."

Derrick found another body at the crime scene the
next day. From the far side of the site Lindsay saw the sheriff and him as they drove up. Derrick ducked into
the lab tent with a box under his arm. The sheriff
spotted her and walked in her direction.

"No," she whispered, "not another one"

She met the sheriff half way, hoping he would tell
her something different from what she knew in her
heart.

"I want this kept absolutely quiet. That's why the
coroner agreed we could bring it here," he told her as
they walked to the lab.

Derrick was waiting for them. Fortunately, because
so many of the professional crew were working away
at the crime scene, Frank had pulled all the lab personnel to work the site. Lindsay, Derrick, and the
sheriff were alone in the laboratory tent.

"Sorry, Lindsay." Derrick smiled grimly at her
when she entered.

She walked to the table and for a moment stared at
the box of bones. Finally, she lifted out a femur and
examined it. "These bones are older. Right off, I
would say they've been in the ground at least ten
years, perhaps longer."

"There are some contextual differences," Derrick
told her. "I found buttons and some fabric with the
bones. On top, but not underneath. It looked as if the
hands were bound when the victim was buried, and
there were traces of fabric on the maxillary bones"

"Ten years or longer. Damn!" exclaimed the sheriff. "With that long a span of time between this
victim and the others, there could be many more out
there"

"There may be other burial sites, but I believe
we've found all the holes at that site." Derrick said. "We've covered the area pretty well, measuring the
resistivity of the ground."

"Resistivity? Is that what you were doing?" asked
the sheriff. "I thought you were using a metal detector."

"Besides," said Lindsay, "if that many children
went missing over the years, wouldn't it have been
noticed?"

"Maybe, but the Hastings girl was from another
county. When you have children missing from different parts of the state, it would be easy for a pattern to
go unnoticed."

"I'll have a look at these bones right away. There
are a few tests I can perform to see how long they
have been in the ground. Perhaps I can give you a
more accurate time frame."

The sheriff started to go, then abruptly turned to
Lindsay and Derrick. "You know, the other day
when you were describing those Indians who were
massacred by the Spanish'? You brought what happened to life by just knowing the bones and the lay
of the land. Can you do that for the crime scene? I
think that you two might bring a perspective to my
investigation."

"We can try," Lindsay replied. "I'm not sure it
would be different from what you yourself would
see.

"Maybe, but I would like to hear it, just the same."
The sheriff left, and Lindsay began to unpack the
bones.

"You want some help?"

"You better go see what you can do for Frank,"
Lindsay suggested. "I guess he is beginning to regret
loaning us to the sheriff."

"Let me know if you need to talk." Derrick gave
her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek.

"Sure," she said and stared after him as he walked
out of the tent.

The laboratory tent was hot, even with all the flaps
open. Lindsay tied her T-shirt under her breasts,
exposing her bare midriff to any cool breeze that
might come through the tent. She put on latex gloves,
laid out the bones, and began examining each one
carefully. After a while, she blinked away a tear and
began her meticulous measurements.

Lindsay thought she heard a scream. She stopped
what she was doing and listened. She heard it again,
then shouting. She hurried out of the tent and saw
Derrick and Alan running through the woods toward
the latrines with Frank right behind them. Lindsay ran
to the edge of the woods. Some of the remaining site
crew were not far behind.

"What happened?" she asked the few crew who
had arrived, also alerted by the scream.

Jane shrugged. "It must have been Sally. She went
to use the bathroom. Maybe she saw a snake."

Lindsay followed the guys into the woods. Jane
called after her to be careful. She found Sally standing by one of the outhouses trembling.

Lindsay put an arm around her. "What's wrong?"

"Some sons-a-bitches came up through the woods
and started shaking the latrine," she answered breathlessly. "I screamed and went out to find out who it
was, and they grabbed me and tried to drag me off
into the woods." Lindsay couldn't tell if she was more
frightened or angry. "Brian was in the other one and
heard me scream. He came out and ran after them. They let me go and ran off. Brian still chased them,
and I think he caught one, but I'm not sure"

A moment later Lindsay saw Brian, Derrick, Alan,
and Frank walking back. Brian was rubbing his jaw.

"They got away," Alan told them.

"Who was it?" asked Lindsay.

"Dunno," said Brian. "I heard Sally scream, and
at first I just thought some insect or something
scared her. Then I heard laughing and ran out, and
these two guys had hold of Sally. They ran when
they saw me. I yelled and chased them. Caught one
and decked him. But the other one came back and
decked me. About that time Derrick and the others
showed up, and we chased them down to the river.
Couldn't tell who they were. They wore stockings
over their heads.

"Could these be the same guys that came though the
woods wearing masks a few days ago?" Frank asked.

Brian and Derrick shrugged. "Could be. These
guys wore different masks," said Brian. "I doubt they
were pothunters. Probably just some locals out having
what they consider entertainment."

"Thanks for rescuing me, Brian," said Sally.

"No problem. Sorry I didn't catch them"

"I'll call the sheriff," said Frank. "Are you all right,
Sally?"

"Sure, just scared." She laughed slightly.

"Look," Frank told them. "From now on I don't
want the women to go to the latrines alone. Go in
pairs."

"Great," said Sally. "Now we can't go to the bathroom by ourselves."

Ned and some of the scouts met them as they walked back to the site. He was red-faced, apparently
from running. They all were breathing hard. "We
went down to the river to see if we could see anything," he said. "We caught sight of a red outboard,
but it was just a flash."

"I'll tell the sheriff," said Frank. "That may help."

"Is everyone okay?" asked Ned.

"Sally is a little shaken, and Brian has a sore jaw,"
Frank replied.

"This is a little more serious than pothunters," said
Ned.

"Yeah," Frank answered. "It is."

Lindsay finished analyzing the small skeleton from
the crime scene late in the evening. She carefully laid
the bones in their box, wrote up the report, and went
to bed. I don't want to do this anymore, she thought as
she drifted off to sleep. There is such pain in those
little bones. A person had to be hurt terribly for it to
show up in their bones.

The next day, Lindsay helped with the flotation at
the river while Michelle, the flotation supervisor,
began the chemical flotation in the lab. Lindsay emptied a bag of dirt from the floor of Structure 3 into a
bucket with a fine wire mesh bottom. She took the
water hose and washed the dirt through the wire
mesh, leaving a collection of objects too large to pass
through the mesh. She ran her fingers over the
objects: chert, broken pottery, daub, rocks and other
miscellaneous debris. She was placing the artifacts on
a flat screen to lie in the sun to dry when she saw the
sheriff walk out into the field with Derrick. Derrick
was putting a target on one of the rolls of hay.

"Do you guys think you can finish these bags?" she
asked the scouts who were working with her.

"Sure"

"Come get me or one of the other supervisors if
you have any problems." She climbed from the dock
onto the shore and walked across the site to the field.
Frank and several of the crew were already there
watching. Derrick had his bow and arrows, several
handmade spears, and his atlatl. He had just hurled a
spear into the target when Lindsay arrived. The spear
stopped with only its point embedded in the hay. He
picked up the banner stone-weighted atlatl and placed
another spear on it. Drawing back his arm, he threw
the spear hard. It flew from the atlatl and embedded
halfway up its shaft into the roll of hay.

"That's a big difference," muttered the sheriff.

Next Derrick took his bow and placed an arrow on
it. He drew back the string, aimed, and let the string
gently roll off his fingers. The arrow embedded into
the bull's eye.

"I'm more accurate with a bow," said Derrick. "But
a spear and atlatl can get the job done"

"Sure can," said the sheriff. "Do you hunt?"

"Nope. Never killed anything more dangerous than
a roll of hay."

"Those are nice spear points. Did you make them?"

"Yeah. I like to get the feel of what it's like to use
the same tools the Indians did. It's hard. I'd hate to
have to make my living by my skill with the atlatl."

Lindsay caught the sheriff's eye, and he came over
to her. Derrick joined them, having offered to let
anyone who wanted to have a go with the weapons.
The three of them walked toward the lab.

"I've finished with the preliminary examination."

"What've you found?"

"The damage to the bones is not quite the same,
but similar. The most striking thing I found was a pattern of physical abuse"

The sheriff looked up at her sharply. "It was an
abused child?"

"Yes. Chronic. There is significant damage to the
bones." Lindsay handed him her report.

"If we can find out who it is, that could be our big
break," the sheriff said. "Whoever was the chronic
abuser of this child could be the killer of the others.
This may have been his start. Maybe he killed this
kid accidentally and found out he liked it." The sheriff looked satisfied. "I'd like a go at that atlatl."

"Sure," said Derrick. They left the lab and headed
back to the field.

"By the way, I haven't got a line on those guys yet.
I think they were probably local punks who thought it
would be fun to scare some outsiders."