Tattooed by Pamela Callow Read Free Book Online Page B

pathology lecture. “And the tannins in the bog environment help preserve it.”
“If we have actually found a preserved body, Clarence, this is a huge scientific find,” Dr. Hughes said. “As far as I’m aware, there has never been a bog body found in Canada—”
“—until now,” he interjected with a smile.
“And there are very few cases of contemporary bog bodies. Anywhere.” The implications of what she was kneeling on seemed to be hitting her. “We could really do some fascinating research—”
This could be Heather. Who had never come home.
The haze of daylight had dramatically dimmed in the past few minutes. Rain appeared to be imminent. And night would soon follow. Ethan shifted impatiently, his foot squelching on the hummock. Time to break up the bog body love fest. “Doctors, it will be dark in about an hour,” Ethan said. “It also looks like it is going to rain. What is your plan?”
“I think we should continue excavating. Let’s bring in the floodlights,” Dr. Hughes said. “And we should set up the tent over this.”
Ethan could tell there was no way on earth the forensic anthropologist would leave her find. This was what academics lived for. She probably foresaw years of funding for her lab with the research she could conduct with this one body. There was just one problem: it was not hers to keep. There was a family out there. Waiting for a phone call.
Ferguson called over the team. Within minutes, they had fashioned a tentlike structure over the gridded area. “If the wind picks up, this will be down in a flash,” Lamond said. “There is nothing to anchor the stakes.”
“Hopefully, we’ll get the body out by then.”
If not, Ethan foresaw a long, wet night ahead for Dr. Hughes.

6
     
A s it was wont to do in Halifax, the weather had turned. Gray clouds—thick and voluminous—canopied the blue sky that had been so promising earlier in the day. Kate ran through the stone gates marking the boundaries of Point Pleasant Park’s upper parking lot, hugging the perimeter so she wouldn’t have to stop for the traffic.
It had been a good run. A necessary run. Kate’s mind had been cleared of all the emotions that Frances Sloane’s visit had brought to the surface.
But despite the tangy sea air, her chest felt heavy.
She knew she had made the right decision. Assisted suicide was a huge policy issue, a public touch point. Trying to convince a member of Parliament to strike down a provision of the Criminal Code—especially this one—required the finesse of a professional lobbyist. It was clearly in her client’s interests that she initiate her fight with the right team. Otherwise, the door could be slammed before her client even got her wheelchair past the threshold.
Alaska, Kate’s white rescue husky, and Charlie, Randall Barrett’s chocolate Labrador, trotted at her heels. Charlie’s tongue lolled with the happy abandon of her breed, although her gait was not as smooth as it once had been. Her pelvis had been injured last year. But despite the limp, she kept up.
A year ago, Kate would have continued to run straight ahead, all the way down Tower Road toward the universities and back home. Instead, she turned left toward Randall Barrett’s show-stopping residence. Charlie gave a little whine, her tail wagging, and began to pull on the leash.
“Whoa, girl.” Kate slowed to a walk. Her thigh had never been the same after the Body Butcher’s attack a year ago, and she needed to stretch it after her run. Charlie—ever obedient— you could learn from her, Alaska —settled back at Kate’s heels.
She’s a good dog. Kate had grown used to Charlie’s lumbering body, her sloppy kisses, her tail-with-a-mind-of-its-own that had cleared Kate’s coffee table of any breakable objects within a week of living at her house. But most of all, she had grown used to Charlie’s unconditional love. Charlie was, in fact, Randall Barrett’s pet. But Kate had earned Charlie’s trust when she took