by Karen Harper
“Another Bible verse?” Yi Ling asked as she carefully brushed bog from the arm and Doug kept picking at tiny hardened clumps of peat with what looked like a dental pick. “Claire, Doug is our walking, talking quote man of Bible verses. What was that one you use to warn people not to get off the planks and into the bog?”
“Oh, the one from Jeremiah?” he asked.
“I think so,” Yi Ling said. “I’m afraid it fits even more now that we’ve learned Hunter was executed or at least—what’s that word Andrea used? Eviscerated?”
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Claire said, “but that’s a possibility too—that Hunter was an honored man so they kept his heart when he died.” She sighed. “But then, I think they would have done a better job of removing it. So what’s the Bible verse, Doug?”
“Okay,” he said. “Jeremiah wasn’t called ‘the weeping prophet’ for nothing. That section goes, ‘Your close friends have set upon you, and prevailed against you; your feet have sunk in the mire, and they have turned away again.’”
“That possibly fits here,” Claire said, surprised her voice was shaky. “Not only the sunk-in-mire part but the idea that Hunter’s own friends might have turned against him. But for what?”
Yi Ling said, “How and what and why—that’s the name of the game around here. Well, we give you the evidence, and you come up with the answers, that’s your thing here, Claire.”
“Wish I did have answers instead of just more questions.” She realized she was trembling. Was she just excited to see what they would turn up here, had her awkward encounter with Brad shaken her—or was it because she felt so bad for Hunter? Ridiculous to get emotionally involved with a millennia-long dead man.
“Someone should go get Andrea,” Yi Ling said, without looking up again. “She always likes to be here when we uncover the body itself. It’s her tradition to name each person, and I hate to just summon her on the walkie-talkie for something this important.”
“I can go,” Claire volunteered, “but I didn’t see her in her office. I just saw Brad.”
“I think,” Aaron put in, “she’s back in the room with the brains. As for the senator, he never likes to come out where we’re working.”
And now she knew why, Claire thought, as she carefully walked the planks back toward the main walkway and the building. Stopping for a moment, she glanced back at the trio of archaeologists. Even though Yi Ling was so petite, she held her own with the men. Kris had said that Yi Ling, last name Chung, was Chinese, a graduate of Peking University. She had written Andrea for the opportunity to study with her, then had stayed on.
Claire walked toward the building. Even in late morning, with the sun pretty much overhead, the heavy limbs and leaves of the ficus trees made it feel darkish here. Besides, clouds had covered the sun, and she thought she even heard a rumble of distant thunder out over the gulf.
She went in the bog access entryway and walked down the hall toward Andrea’s lab. The door was closed, so she knocked.
“Who?” Andrea called out.
“It’s Claire. The team would like you outside since they are close to the body.”
“Step in a minute.”
Claire opened the door and went in. On a screen, many times magnified, was an image of Hunter’s dagger, at least one side of it. For the first time, Claire could see that it was flint, carefully chipped to a sharp blade and point—and it had some kind of pattern carved in the hilt.
“Surely, that isn’t some sort of writing,” Claire said as she squinted to study the strange shapes.
“An attempt at artwork, I think, but I can’t tell of what. The game he hunted maybe—abstract, of course,” Andrea said with a shrug.
“Stick figures. People?”
“Some sort of message from the grave. This blow-up of it could blow up the world of archaeology,” she added in an awed voice as she continued to stare at the image.
“The motto for my Clear Path website has been ‘The dead still talk if you know how to listen.’ That’s true here too.”
“I remember that, from when I was researching you,” she admitted.
“In this case, the motto should be ‘The dead still talk if you know how to see,’” Claire said.
Andrea finally looked her way. “Somehow, some way, we will get the answers from these bog people and then be able to share all we’ve learned and found with others. I will do anything it takes to accomplish that as my life’s work!”
Staring back at the intense woman, Claire nodded. What else was there to say, at least right now, but for one thing. “Are there photos of the other side of the dagger?”
“This is the decorated side. Well, time to study this later.” She turned off her projector. “Let’s go outside and see who was reaching out to poor, mutilated Hunter, just the way we would love to reach out to all these poor, buried, long-lost souls.”
* * *
“You might know it started to rain right then,” Claire told Nick that evening when they finally had both Trey and Lexi asleep and their guests, Bronco and Nita, had gone up to their bedroom. “And just when they were ready to uncover the next body. Their policy is to just cover what they have and get back to it tomorrow—if it isn’t raining then. Andrea was as disappointed as I was. The trees that edge the bog protected us for a while, but then dripped water on us too, so that was that.”
“It’s like a treasure hunt, isn’t it?” Nick asked as he added another name to the guest list for their Sunday afternoon reception. The club was providing the catering, so things were going smoothly. Claire would extend the invitation to friends by phone tomorrow before she went to work. Nick would ask his staff at the firm.
“Yes, a treasure hunt’s a good analogy,” she admitted. “I never thought I would get so involved with long-dead people, though that’s exactly what I’ve been hired to do.”
“It’s a good thing you’re doing that part-time, because I think you can use a break already. Today will be your last day there until Monday, so we can drop by the club and check out the room, talk to the staff. I was at a function there, but it was a couple of years ago—pre-Claire.”
“Sounds good. Let’s do that in the morning because Kris is going with me to dress shops in the afternoon, probably to get an outfit for herself too, since I invited her. Lexi loves her dress from Nita and Bronco’s wedding, so she’ll wear that. Sorry for the fashion commentary. Any more word on poor Cynthia’s brother? From what you said, he sounds like a loose cannon.”
“Since I’ve been able to informally depose him, he’s Jensen’s problem now, but, yeah, he bears watching. I assume he’ll be busy with her cremation tomorrow or whenever they release the body to him. Sad to think that beautiful woman will become ashes in the wind and water.”
Blinking back tears, Claire nodded and reached out to cover Nick’s hand with hers.
10
Under their big umbrella in the steady, gentle rain, Claire held Nick’s arm as they went into the Orange Grove Country Club. They had been invited to look over the facilities for their much-belated wedding reception. Despite all Nick had to do at the office, he was planning to go in late. At least this off-and-on rainy weather was supposed to clear up soon.
“If it wasn’t for this umbrella, I could still carry you over the threshold,” he teased as he opened the door for her. He shook out the umbrella and left it with the others on a rack.
“I’m happy to say your toting me into our bedroom now and then is quite enough. Besides, it wouldn’t do to have the man of the house and my favorite lawyer-at-large hurt his back two days before our party.”
They were greeted by Mary Ann Manning, special occasions director, who showed them the Blue Room they had reserved. It had adequate seating for forty as well as one long buffet table and several other tables scattered throughout the area.
“The Blue Room comes with the air-conditioned, glassed-in v
erandah which runs along the side,” Mary Ann told them, with a sweep of her hand at the long space outside which also had chairs and small tables. “In good weather, we open the sliding doors, and it becomes one large room. We could do that, put the cake and food in here, then let your guests go either in or out. We have special laminated glass on this long window to cut the UV rays. Even golf balls hitting the glass won’t make it shatter,” she said with a little laugh. “And, as you can see, there is a lovely view of the eighteenth green and the orange grove surrounding the area.”
“I read there’s been a dispute over the property lines,” Nick said.
“I’m afraid so. The original orchard owners are demanding an exorbitant price for the small amount of extra land we want to lengthen the practice driving range. I’m afraid they have even pulled some dirty tricks, like smashing rotten oranges on some of the greens, even stuffing them in the holes. Someone has lobbed oranges at foursomes out by the seventh and eighth holes. But slightly higher tech, someone has buzzed golfers with a drone. The grove owners have denied doing that. Dare I say we could use some legal advice on how best to proceed?”
Nick turned and smiled at the dark-haired woman. “Dare I say, I could recommend someone to help in exchange for all the help you’re giving us here? It would have to be a junior partner right now, but the senior partners ultimately oversee everything.”
“I’ll tell our board,” she said with a nod. “Now, please, both of you, explain how you would like things laid out on the verandah, and our caterers will have everything, including that belated wedding cake, ready for your guests at four on your big day.”
As they spent a half hour with her, Claire realized how excited she was over all this. As much as she loved being married to Nick, their wedding had been a nightmare, forced on them by their sworn enemy. But this would all make up for it, choosing a cake, buying a dress...
“I said I’ve got to run, sweetheart,” Nick told her and pecked a kiss on her cheek as he walked her to her car, since they’d driven separately. “Have a good time at lunch and dress shopping with Kris.”
“Will do. And I’ll text you or leave you a message if we get the call that the rain has let up enough that the team will be ready to disinter the second body in Hunter’s grave—their grave, I mean. It’s custom that everyone’s there for that—except for Senator Vance—unless there is some real conflict.”
Conflict. Was there some sort of unspoken conflict she was picking up between the senator and Andrea, or was she just reading too much into it?
Nick gave her another quick kiss before she got in her car. “You do realize,” he said, leaning down with the umbrella still in his hand to open the car door for her, “that if someone overheard us talking graves and bodies, they would either think we were nuts or call the cops. See you, amateur archaeologist.”
“You look great in that!” Kris assured Claire as they met in the mirrored central aisle between their separate dressing rooms in Talbot’s at the Waterside Shops in Naples. “The color goes really well with your red hair. Good thing I’m not color-blind. Being face blind is bad enough,” she added with a sigh.
“I know, but you do beautifully, handling it. Now, look at this. I love the cut out pattern on the shoulders and back neckline.” Claire tried to get her back on track and she turned to glance in the mirror again. “I have the perfect earrings and necklace for this light green. Do you think I’d need matching shoes or just white or beige?”
“Either light color. I think I’m going with the pink-and-navy suit, but probably won’t wear the jacket to the reception.”
“This kind of grabs my hips in back,” Claire said, still turning. “I’m going out to see if I should go up one size, because the bust is a wee bit tight too. I guess that’s what having a baby does to you. I was so much younger when Lexi came along.”
Since the saleswoman who had been helping them was ringing up a customer, Claire went to the well-lit rack by the front window to check for a larger size in the same dress. And found herself staring through the glass at someone who was looking in. The other person seemed to startle, stared, then turned quickly away and hurried off.
Hadn’t she seen that same person more than once walking past the restaurant window earlier? They’d had lunch at Brio’s before starting their shopping.
The surprise of it made Claire’s heartbeat kick up. Was that a man or a woman? A Tampa Bay Buccaneers baseball cap and big sunglasses hid the forehead and eyes, but she could see chin-length hair. That mustache looked fake. What did that person look like? It made her feel she was face blind too and sympathized with Kris even more.
As for clothing, the person wore loose slacks and a pullover, both in black. Well, what did it matter if someone dressed weird? she scolded herself and went back in to the dressing rooms.
“Lucky you, to find that,” Kris greeted her. She’d changed back into her casual clothes. “If I go up a size, I have no excuse of a new baby. Which reminds me, we never found a body of a bog woman who was pregnant or had just given birth, so I was hypothesizing that they seemed to survive childbirth—sturdy women. I’m sure in general they got enough exercise. Yet so many of them seemed to chew those natural painkillers.”
“Don’t so much as say the word killers,” Claire said from under the dress as she pulled it up over her head.
She pictured again the person looking through the windows. Well, so what? Didn’t lots of people window-shop? Maybe the person was eccentric or mentally off or homeless and just roved the shopping center.
“By the way,” she added, “I noticed the rain has stopped outside.”
“Hope at Black Bog too. Can’t wait to see Hunter’s companion.”
Claire almost told her about the person peering into the store, one she couldn’t even identify by sex. That made her wonder if the body in the bog they would see next was a female.
“Look,” she said, trying to keep her mind on the present, “this dress fits much better.”
“You know,” Kris said as they finally gathered their purchases, “I never have trouble recalling what someone wears. So why the curse of the face blindness?”
Claire took her arm. “Do you think you can recall the bog faces so well because you recognize them by their clothing or the position of their bodies?”
“It can’t be by the artifacts with them, because Andrea always takes those to study right away, and that’s one thing the senator is totally intrigued by. But as for your psyching out my coping mechanisms, why is my best longtime friend a sort of shrink, even if a forensic one?” Kris said with a mock sigh, looking upward.
They bought their outfits and were heading out toward a shoe store in the open-air mall when Kris’s cell phone and Claire’s rang almost at the same time. “Oh-oh,” Kris said, as she produced hers from her pants pocket. “I—we—may have to head for the bog.”
Kris took the call fast. Claire could hear Andrea’s voice on the other end as she dug her phone out of her purse. “I’m in town so I could call you. Surely the rain stopped at the bog too. I’m heading there and expect to see you there quickly.” They both had their cars, and Claire skimmed the parking lot for hers just two rows over from Kris’s.
And there, staring at her then moving quickly away, was that androgynous person again. Were she and Kris—or just one of them—being followed? But by whom and why? It was probably just a random thing and they had to get going. Her past had made her paranoid. She didn’t want to alarm Kris, but if that person appeared again, she’d point him or her out.
“Let’s go,” Kris said, punching off, as Claire took her own phone call. Hers was from Yi Ling from the dig team who was also heading for the bog.
“Are you coming out, even though you’re not scheduled?” Yi Ling asked excitedly. “I think you’re right that it’s a woman. The rain has quit, and we’re going to excavate around her right away. I swear she has
breasts. And maybe there’s a string of bodies there, linked somehow.”
“We’re on our way,” Claire told her even as Kris jumped in her car.
“Follow me, okay?” Kris called to her as she rolled her window down.
“After you drive around to my car!” Claire called back as she began to cut through cars in the next rows. She had no intention of meeting that person—where had he or she disappeared to? Surely Nick wouldn’t assign someone to keep an eye on her for safety’s sake. It must be coincidence, but she’d learned long ago to expect no such thing—especially if you dabbled in danger like finding a body in a freezer.
A peek inside her car showed no one in the back seat, nothing disturbed. She put the box with her new dress on the passenger side. Should she show Nick her dress, or surprise him, like a bride at her wedding?
Oh, no. That’s right! Dale Braun was coming for dinner tonight—and for a conversational interrogation she was supposed to assess right along with Nick’s observations. So she couldn’t stay at Black Bog too long. She’d promised Nick she’d help, and family still had to come first.
But she was so certain, so hopeful after all that she’d been through, that her life was all—well, almost—normal now.
* * *
Jace waited for his Stingray contact and friend, Mitch Blakeman, at the huge door of the hangar at the Marco Island Airport just as Mitch was taxiing off the runway toward him. Jace watched as “Falcon,” a former Marine pilot, shut down the single-engine so-called crop dusting plane inside and walked to meet him. They had both been in the local skies lately, spraying for insect pests, including Zika virus mosquitoes. But the equipment in their planes actually allowed them to troll for drug runners’ locations by tracking their cell phones. Huge stashes of drugs were supposed to be coming in from Mexico. Since a recent murder of a Stingray pilot in California, their job had become a lot more tense.
“Sometimes I feel we’re on a par with the Wright brothers, in the small old planes—sitting ducks,” Jace called to Mitch, with a glance back at the single-engine propeller aircraft that passed for what local farmers would use. “I’m homesick for a fighter jet and some speed. How about you?”