Deeper Than the Grave by Tina Whittle Read Free Book Online Page B

to looters. That didn’t stop the relic-obsessed, however, a fact Richard knew all too well.
    I settled the headphones on my ears, listened to the whine of the machine. No, bones would not register, but one of those buttons or buckles would. And if I found one of those things, with any luck, the bones would be nearby.
    I straightened up, swung the detector left and right, then set off into the woods.
    The tornado’s initial impact was precise and obvious. After that, the damage grew more sporadic. There was a petulance to the destruction, like a temper tantrum, but I knew it was only physics at work. Here the trees stood, but the tumbled branches in the pine needles were proof that a lacerating wind had ripped through. I kept my eyes on the ground, swinging the detector back and forth in a neat arc.
    Thirty minutes later, all I had found were pull tabs and broken tool parts. None of the private’s burial goods, and not a sign of Rose. I was beginning to think Richard’s faith was misplaced, that any second now I’d be stumbling on the unfortunate corpse of a little old lady, pearls clutched to her crushed chest…
    The metal detector threw off a high-pitched whine, the signature of something big. I looked down. A muck-covered length of metal lay at my feet. I nudged it with my toe. A pry bar, probably from some unfortunate resident’s toolshed. I marked an X on my map and kept searching.
    I didn’t have to search long. The detector whined again, this time in a short sharp burst. I knelt at the foot of a massive oak and parted the top layer of leaves with my fingers. They were cold and slimy and smelled of ripe decay, but they covered something solid underneath. I peered into the mulchy mess. Then I cursed and snatched my fingers back fast.
    The brown-stained skull grinned up at me, dead leaves in its teeth, a chunk of its cranium caved in at the back. I didn’t even try to brush the mud off. I reached for my radio.
    â€œTrey? You there?”
    It sputtered and crackled. “Ten two, Seaver here.”
    He was in SWAT mode, all last name and ten codes. I pressed the talk button. “I found the skull. Bring the rest of the metal detectors, and we’ll grid this area with an intensive.”
    â€œCopy that. Text me the coordinates.”
    â€œWill do.” I dropped my voice. “I love it when you talk cop, have I ever told you that?”
    A tiny pause. “Copy and out, Tai.”
    I tucked the radio back into my pocket and started to move some more leaves out of the way. But before I could, I heard a stomach-dropping noise to my left—the unmistakable “ka-chunk” of a pump action shotgun. And then a woman’s voice, cold and authoritative.
    â€œHold it right there, you goddamned thief!”

Chapter Nine
    I put my hands in the air so fast I almost fell over.
    The woman came striding toward me—tall, purposeful, her shearling coat pulled tight around a sturdy figure. She stopped fifteen feet from me, the shotgun swung into firing position, the butt tight against her shoulder. I saw it was a twelve-gauge, and whether it was loaded with cartridges or slugs, it could cut me in half before I could take a step.
    â€œStand up!” she said. “Real slow.”
    I did as I was told. An ice-gray braid fell over her shoulder, and her eyes flashed pale blue. Despite her tanned skin, I could see spots of color riding high on her cheekbones, and her mouth was a flat line in a square, tightly set jaw.
    I kept my hands high. “I’m not a thief. And I’m not armed either. So if you could just put down the shotgun—”
    â€œI’ll put it down when I’m good and ready. Who are you?”
    I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Tai Randolph. Richard asked me to help with the search.”
    â€œWhat search? Where’s Richard?”
    â€œHe’s with my boyfriend—”
    â€œYour boyfriend is tromping around too?