Silent Evidence

by Rachel Grant

  “To be fair, Sheriff Taylor’s attempt to shut down Hazel’s examination of the remains isn’t entirely out of line,” Isabel said. “Processing the remains can be a pain in the ass and, if it were a known burial ground or cemetery, entirely unnecessary. And it would anger local tribes. Before the dam was built, that reservoir was a lovely narrow valley. It could be historic or prehistoric and totally innocent.”

  Alec turned to Hazel. “But you said it’s not.”

  “No, I don’t think so. My preliminary exam raised enough questions that I contacted the Virginia ME and advised her this could be a criminal investigation. She requested I collect as many bones as I could from the reservoir before inundation began again today. She’s working on paperwork to halt inundation and a work order for me to do an in-depth examination of the bones.

  “It’ll take days to get them to stop refilling the lake, so I collected all the skulls and other diagnostic elements I could find yesterday afternoon. We’re at twenty-seven now. One is potentially female. The rest appear to be males, twenty-five to thirty-five years old. It’s the uniformity and the evidence all the remains were burned I find most suspicious. There also aren’t any clothing fibers or jewelry.”

  “What about dental work?” Alec asked.

  “The lower mandibles were all separated from the craniums. I managed to find a few in the lake yesterday and haven’t examined any of them yet. The skulls I have examined appear to have some dental work, but not a lot. Metal fillings were first used in the US in the 1830s, which means while the remains aren’t prehistoric. It’s still possible—however unlikely—the remains could be from a legitimate historic cemetery. We’d have to test the metal to be certain in that regard.”

  “But if it were an historic cemetery, there would be clothing. Metal. Other items to help date the remains,” Isabel said.

  Hazel nodded. “Exactly. I don’t think the remains are historic, but a definitive determination requires a more intensive exam than I’ve been able to do so far.”

  “Were they burned alive?” Isabel asked.

  “It’s possible. I haven’t found knife cuts or bullet fractures in the bones, but my examination was preliminary.” She shrugged. “Again, further analysis is needed.”

  Alec frowned. “Are you okay to do more forensic analysis?”

  She gave a slow nod. “I have to. If I turn down this work, it would kill my reputation with the Virginia ME.” She took a deep breath, then added, “And I do feel okay with it. Dr. Parks taught me some techniques to help calm the anxiety before it builds.”

  Sean’s gaze turned unfocused with thought. “If Sheriff Taylor has anything to do with those remains, your work will be for nothing. The county sheriff is the only law enforcement with jurisdiction.”

  “We need to get the feds involved,” Hazel said.

  “That might be easy,” Isabel said. “Even though it’s a private utility company, it’s a federal contract—Federal Energy Regulatory Commission required the dam repair, which makes it a federal undertaking. The energy produced goes to West Virginia, Maryland, and Virginia—it’s only ten miles from the West Virginia border and seven and a half from Maryland. We can use the federal permit to claim the FBI has jurisdiction.”

  “I’ll run that by Curt, see what he thinks,” Alec said. “The sheriff will fight it.”

  “But once the remains are in the FBI’s possession, there won’t be anything Sheriff Taylor can do about it,” Hazel said. “It would be a hard fight for him to get them back, and I certainly have no intention of turning over the samples I’ve collected to his office.”

  “I’ll go through channels to get an investigation going on him,” Alec said.

  “I’ve been wondering who owns the big house on Anderson Lake,” Sean said. “The one next to Raptor land. That’s the landowner who managed to delay your fieldwork, right, Isabel?”

  She nodded. “I’ve been wondering that too. If there’s some connection between the landowner and Sheriff Taylor.”

  “All you have is the name of a holding company?” Hazel asked.

  Isabel nodded.

  “I’ll get an investigator on that,” Alec said. “I’ve already got a team looking into Senator Small—”

  Isabel jolted. “Seriously? You’re investigating a fellow senator?”

  Alec shrugged. “Of course. The voting process isn’t as good at vetting people as we’d hope. The guy is a racist prick and might as well have a price tag on his votes. But there’s more to it. He’s got shady deals going on the side with the for-profit prison lobby—and now we know he’s buddies with a local sheriff who uses the county lockup for chain-gang labor. I’m going to get proof of Small’s dirty deals and force him to resign, but the US attorney for the Northern District of West Virginia is a crony of his. It’s unlikely he’ll face charges unless what I find is bulletproof.”

  “Sometimes I really wish Curt was still attorney general,” Isabel said.

  “Alec, why do you think Small is connected to the threat?” Hazel asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know if he’s connected, and I can’t give you more details than I already have. I’m sorry.”

  “You know I’m not the target. You’re putting Sean through this ridiculous farce for no reason.”

  “Hey, we won a prize,” Sean said. “Too late to change our story now.”

  Isabel tossed Hazel a sly gaze. “So what was in the bag?”

  Hazel felt her face heat. Stupid complexion that made her prone to blushing. “It was a big box of my favorite chocolates, and I’m not sharing.”

  “Not even with Sean?” Isabel asked, clearly not believing the lie.

  She flushed deeper, thinking of their conversation, divvying up the prizes. “He can have a few. Maybe.”

  Sean laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Iz. I will make sure I get my favorite pieces.”

  Isabel’s grin turned wicked. “Oh, do you like the ones with nuts?”

  Sean snorted. “Nah, Haze can have that one.”

  Hazel rolled her eyes, thinking of the royal-blue balls attached to the dildo. “Are we done here? Don’t we have a rehearsal to attend?”

  Alec’s gaze went from Hazel to Isabel before he said, “You two go. I need to talk to Sean alone for a few minutes.”

  Isabel stood and leaned down to Alec for a kiss. Hazel circled the table, passing behind Sean to grab her key card from the dresser on the way to the door. If anyone else had been in the room, she’d probably have leaned down for a kiss too, and the strange part was that not kissing Sean felt unnatural. Walking behind him without a touch didn’t feel right.

  “Don’t forget, we’re here for a wedding,” Isabel said to Alec in a lecturing tone. “And Sean is needed for the rehearsal.”

  “He won’t be late. I promise,” Alec said.

  “Riiiight,” she said, then followed Hazel to the door. In the hallway after the door closed, Isabel paused to listen. “Damn,” she said softly. “The walls are thick and so is the door. That’s the problem with these old hotels. Too much privacy.”

  Hazel chuckled. “The nerve. Take off a star when you post your review.” She stared at the door, also wondering what was being said on the other side. “What do you think Alec is telling Sean?”

  “I don’t know, but it bothers me Alec is telling Sean things he refuses to tell us. I trust Alec with everything, he’s my whole world, but I don’t understand why he’s not telling me what’s going on.”

  “Doesn’t Sean have some sort of security clearance because he works with government clients?”

  “He does, but still. You and I are the ones who were threatened. It would be nice to know what we’re dealing with.”

  “You were threatened. I’m merely collateral damage.”

  “Don’t be so sure, Hazel. If this has anything to do with the sheriff, you’re the bigger threat than I am. You’re the one who suspects homicide and has the education to argue the point.”

  “Fair point, but
Alec received the threat before I even arrived at the site.”

  They headed down the corridor toward the curved staircase. They passed Curt in the hall, and he gave them a nod and a smile. A moment later, Hazel heard a knock on a door and turned to see Curt standing in front of her room.

  She frowned at Isabel and whispered, “They asked Curt to join them?”

  Isabel’s eyes narrowed. “Well, he definitely has security clearance as a former cabinet member. And we know Alec wanted to ask him about FBI jurisdiction, but I bet he also has questions about the Justice Department’s investigation of Senator Small.

  “I wish we were still in the room.”

  Isabel sighed. “Me too.”

  The rehearsal was short and simple. Ivy’s son, Julian, and Erica and Lee’s daughter, Grace, were ring bearer and flower girl, but neither was present, and Grace was so young, she was more likely to be in her mom’s arms than sprinkling flower petals down the aisle between chairs set up in the garden. Matt stood in for Julian and promised he’d pass on the complex and vital instructions for ring bearing to Julian first thing when the boy arrived tomorrow.

  Cressida, who had never known her father, surprised Curt by asking him to walk her down the aisle. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hugged her and said, “I’d be honored.”

  The ceremony would be performed by a judge, the father of one of Ian’s Army buddies. The judge also wasn’t present for the rehearsal, so Luke stood in for him. The walk-through of the ceremony was full of jokes and teasing as Luke delivered his part as the Impressive Clergyman from The Princess Bride.

  Hazel sat with the others who were not part of the ceremony, laughing. Matt knelt next to Sean to approximate Julian’s height, holding a plate because no one remembered to grab a pillow, while Luke misquoted the Impressive Clergyman and Cressida corrected him. Somehow they morphed from The Princess Bride to Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and the debate over the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow was on.

  To end their antics, Ian pulled Cressida to him and said, “When do I get to kiss the bride?” then kissed her, deeply, without waiting for permission.

  Catcalls followed. Hazel felt another rush of envy. Not for the love between Ian and Cressida and their obvious happiness—although that looked pretty great too—but for the warm friendships that filled this room. She wanted to be a part of this.

  Ian finally came up for air, and Cressida laughed and leaned into him, as if swooning. “If I’d known you had that in your arsenal, we’d have done this whole wedding thing sooner.”

  Ian grinned. “I had to hold something back. You don’t buy the cow if the milk is free.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “On that note,” Luke said, “I think this rehearsal is a wrap.”

  On cue, the hotel manager announced. “If you’ll all return to the patio, an open bar has been set up for cocktail hour. Dinner will be served in the dining room in an hour.”

  The open bar and dinner were Alec’s wedding gift to Ian and Cressida. Alec had told Hazel once that one of the perks of handing Raptor over to Keith to run was that it gave him a chance to develop friendships with the people who worked for Raptor in a way that hadn’t been possible when he was both calling the shots and paying the bills. Now it was on Keith to manage the business. While Alec still owned the company, he didn’t make any management or contract decisions. Those were all on Keith.

  It didn’t appear Keith had a problem being both boss and friend, but then he was from the same ranks as the rest of the employees—former SEAL with over a decade of service but no college degree, let alone Ivy League like Alec. It was easier for Keith to straddle the worlds than it was for Alec.

  Like any attentive date, Sean walked with Hazel to the patio for cocktail hour, even though it really wasn’t necessary. Hazel felt very welcome in this gathering. Her body hummed with the fun energy of the assembled guests. If she ever married, this was what she’d want. Simple. Small. With people who genuinely enjoyed being together. Envy struck again, but not so strongly it overshadowed the pleasure.

  Cocktail hour flowed into a casual dinner, eaten inside because the insects came out when the sun went down. After dinner, the group split along gender lines, Trina having arranged for the women to enjoy facial masks and manicures in the main lounge while the men went off to chop wood, then drink beer around a bonfire on the shore of the lake.

  Seriously, they were chopping wood for fun. She would never understand men.

  There was much laughter and a few scary photos taken as they all wore their masks and had their nails done by a fleet of manicurists. Hazel studied the other women, who all looked like they were from those horror movies with the hockey mask guy. She couldn’t remember the name. She’d never paid much attention to horror films when she was in her teens and early twenties, but after she’d examined the remains of a woman knifed thirty-three times, she’d lost any appetite for that kind of entertainment. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate the jokes and general fun as they all donned masks that promised to make their skin clearer, tighter, and younger.

  If only fifteen minutes under a coconut mask could really deliver a time and beauty machine. But tonight, she would believe. She’d let go of her cynicism, drink her chocolate martini—made to Trina’s specifications—and enjoy this buzz of stolen friendship.

  She watched her sister, Ivy, as she laughed and chatted with her friends, and a different kind of happiness settled in. After a nightmare marriage and painful divorce, followed by a traumatic experience in Palau, Ivy had it all: a job she loved, a husband who was crazy about her, and a child to love and nurture. Hazel hadn’t known how deeply Ivy wanted a child until she began fostering Julian.

  That the adoption wasn’t complete yet remained a concern, the fear that a court could yank him away from a mother and father who loved him intensely loomed over everything. But soon those papers would be signed, and Julian would be Ivy and Matthew’s son for all time.

  Julian’s parents had died a year and a half before in an accident that happened right as Ivy returned from Palau. Hazel had no idea that Ivy had gone through the process of being approved to be a foster parent. She would have taken on a child sooner, but she’d known the Palau project was coming and had deferred until her return.

  Julian’s loss of his parents was devastating, but he’d been lucky to land in the arms of a woman who’d insisted she wanted to adopt him from the start. Julian’s mother had been bilingual—Russian and English—and in another stroke of fate, Matthew was fluent in Russian as well. He spoke to the boy solely in Russian while Ivy spoke English to him. Hazel loved that her nephew wouldn’t lose his Russian heritage along with his Russian-American mother.

  She was incredibly happy for her sister, who finally had everything she’d ever wanted.

  Facial masks and nails complete, the group of women settled around a table to play bridal shower games, but the moment the stockpile of toilet paper came out for making wedding dresses, Cressida rose to her feet. “I love you, Treen, but I think everyone here—including you—would much rather join the men by the bonfire than dress me in toilet paper.”

  Trina winked at her. “Don’t underestimate my toilet-paper-dress-designing skills. But I figured you’d feel that way. There’s a stack of blankets by the door. It’s cold, and snuggling under a blanket is pretty much the only way all sixteen of us will fit around the bonfire.”

  Hazel’s belly fluttered as Trina’s meaning became clear. The women would invade the men’s party, joining them by sitting on their partners’ laps.

  The fake-boyfriend thing was about to get too real.

  16

  Sean placed himself to Matthew’s left so he could hear the quiet conversation between the former Russian spy and assassin, and Luke Sevick, a former SEAL and current NOAA lieutenant who had been friends with Matt when the spy was deeply embedded in the US Coast Guard. This was the first time they’d seen each other since they’d crossed paths in Pala
u.

  Around the campfire, they could relax. Hazel wasn’t here. There was no reason to pretend they didn’t know each other.

  It was vital Hazel remain in the dark, as that was the only way to keep Ivy and Julian safe. Tomorrow, a slew of guests would arrive, none of whom knew the truth. When that happened, it would be easier for everyone involved. It was harder when the only audience for a charade was a single person.

  Not that Matt had any trouble navigating his new backstory. A lifetime in espionage had turned him into a chameleon, ever adaptable. It was Ivy who was the wild card. Her face was eminently readable, every emotion laid bare. She was a terrible liar and worse actress, but her fierce love for Julian gave her performance strength and credibility. She was determined not to shatter her son’s life by slipping.

  But now there were new suspicions about Matt. Suspicions strong enough to warrant the fake-relationship charade with Hazel. So Sean chose the seat next to Matt in order to eavesdrop. Not that he’d pick up on anything interesting. Matt was too well trained and Luke an absolute straight arrow.

  “So, Sean, what’s the deal with you and Hazel?” Ian, seated to Sean’s left, asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard by everyone.

  He looked at his friend. “I’m going to plead the fifth here.”

  Curt perked up at the weak legal defense. “How does that apply?”

  He should have chosen his words more carefully. There was nothing Curt loved more than picking apart a legal argument, even when it was just a group of guys talking around a campfire. “Uh, the guy who signs my paychecks—who happens to be her cousin—is five feet away, and I’m sitting next to her brother-in-law who, rumor has it, is something of a badass. I’m saying nothing. Ever.”

  Ian came to his rescue, if you could call it that, when his words were a different kind of indictment. “I always knew you had it bad for her. Glad you finally got off your ass and did something about it.”