Katy Lee - Grave Danger

Lydia pushed her glasses up on her nose—and noticed his deprecatory eyes travel down her tall body. Her bravado faltered as she realized he formed judgments of her. Terms from her childhood, and even adulthood, came to mind. Beanpole. Giraffe. Sunshade. At least her six-one-and-then-some height wouldn’t be blocking any sun on the island today, because there was none.

“Just show me the way,” she said, and caught the other people behind the sheriff staring.

“Not until I have your word that you will keep this discreet,” Sheriff Grant said, pulling her attention back to him. “I’m not looking for some fresh-out-of-college intern looking to make headlines or improve herself in her profession. I want your word that you’re not here to further your career or to make a name for yourself.”

“Further my—?” She sputtered to a stop. How did he know? She attempted to keep her face as still as the granite ledges around her, but her shoulders trembled all on their own. Was it the cold, or was she that transparent?

“It’s my job to protect the islanders from harm,” Sheriff Grant continued. “I need to know you can be discreet and professional.”

“Always,” she answered quickly, but her voice held a shiver. It had to be the cold and not fear. Never fear. With God as her guide, never shall she fear.

The sheriff’s unnerving, steely eyes relaxed a little, but not his jaw. “Good to hear, but tell me, Doc, did you think to bring a coat? It gets real chilly out here with the wind and all. The climate is a bit rougher than what you’re used to on the mainland.”

“Of course I brought a coat. It’s in my bag on the boat. But I’m perfectly comfortable as I am.” She ignored the cold, salty spray misting around her, knowing it would seep into her wool suit real fast. Now, there was a smell to avoid. Death she could handle, but wet sheep, not so much.

“Your shaking shoulders tell me differently, but have it your way.” He shrugged as he tossed a glance over his shoulder at two gawking teenaged boys huddled together. “These boys are Robbie and Mack Reed.” Neither would pass for fifteen. Their faces were pale and sullen with eyes as turbulent as the waves behind them.

Their timorous behavior told her these young ones were her body finders.

Sheriff Grant confirmed her assessment. “They came out to this side of the island earlier this morning to explore and came across the skeleton.”

Lydia scanned the backdrop of rocky ledges. She wondered how much farther the island expanded beyond them. Stone surrounded her, from the rocky ledges to the numerous flat rocks dotting the ocean behind her. They couldn’t have been more strategically placed if they had been pawns on a chess board with the island of Stepping Stones as their queen. A lighthouse stood far out in the distance on the farthest rock, warning ships not to come any closer to the dangerous protruding stones. A natural tactic that seemingly kept the outside world at bay, and the town untouchable.

Until now.

“Do people come here often?” she asked.

The sheriff hesitated before he answered, “We don’t get too many visitors in Stepping Stones. Or did you mean this side of the island?”

“Both.”

He shrugged. “Most stay on the side where the higher ground is. These waters get pretty rough. Storms come through and submerge these rocks real fast.” He angled a disappointed look at the boys. Their chins dropped lower to their chests; apparently, they had already heard the lecture. “The boys know they made a dangerous choice today, but I think under the circumstances they’ve been punished enough.”

Their punishment, her reward. Just thinking about digging her hands into the dirt had Lydia’s adrenaline spiking again. She took a breath and piped up. “Okay, boys, show me what you found.”

Mouths gaped. The boys’ visible gulps said they weren’t too excited about their find—or finding it again anytime soon. The one named Robbie retreated behind his brother, shaking his head. He looked to Mack, who had another year or so on him, to take the lead.

A little empathy, she reminded herself. It’s not every day kids see a dead body. Never mind a decomposed one. This was why she didn’t do well in social situations. People didn’t “get” her excitement, and she tended to forget her brain worked differently than most. “It’s okay,” she assured the boys, “just point the way. I’ll take it from here.”

The one named Mack flipped his red hair off to his left. His hands stuffed into his zipped-up gray sweatshirt. “I found...it...over there when I pulled our rowboat up onshore. At first, I thought they were sticks. Then I saw the sk—skull.” He visibly shivered. A woman came up beside him to drape her arm around his shoulders and pull him close. Her carrot-red hair matched that of the boys. She looked too young to be their mother, but definitely related. Lydia was about to ask when the woman plastered pleading hazel eyes on the sheriff.

“Wes, can I please take them home now? They’ve told you everything they know. It’s bad enough they had to be the ones to find...the body.”

Lydia watched the woman’s eyes fill with a level of intimacy as they locked on the sheriff’s. The two of them must be an item, she speculated, but the sheriff’s blank and emotionless stare implied Lydia failed on that assessment. Not a good start, Dr. Muir.

Sheriff Grant turned to her. “Do you need to ask them anything, Doc?”

“If I do, I’m sure I can find them easy enough,” Lydia answered.

“True, but I want this matter wrapped up today.”

Lydia studied him and wondered about the rush. The bones weren’t going anywhere. “I’ll take your requested expedience into consideration, but I won’t make any promises.”

He shot her a disapproving look but signaled the dark-haired deputy. “Matthews, would you mind bringing Pat and the boys home? I’ll take Dr. Muir back in my patrol boat.”

“I’ll put her bag in your boat,” the deputy replied, and unhooked a set of keys from his belt.

“Thanks. I don’t know how long I’m going to be.” He lowered his voice below the pounding of the waves and squawking seagulls, but not so low that Lydia couldn’t hear what he said. “It looks like it might be a while.”

“That will all depend on what I dig up,” Lydia announced as she took a step in the direction Mack had insinuated with his head toss.

“What you dig up?” Sheriff Grant balked as she walked past him. “Hold on a minute. You’re not turning this place into a dig site.”

She kept on walking. A few moments later a boat’s engine rumbled to life, leaving her with the sheriff on this side of the island. Each of her footsteps was carefully placed on the squishy mounds of sand. Either it had just poured or when the tide came in, the water surely covered this side of the island. Which would explain the unearthing of the body over time. But how much time? A hundred years? Or one?

Thoughts of the skeleton had her picking up her step. How long had it been here? What was the cause of death? What was its ancestry? Why was it buried on this side alone, and what were the secrets it took to its shallow grave? All things forensic science could answer—all things she could answer. Lydia hurried forward, eager to locate the remains, and eager to find what they would tell her.

After another ten yards, the lay of the land dropped considerably beneath her shoes. The backs of her calves tightened in an effort to keep her from sliding down on her rump. That would be the icing on the sheriff’s cake. She could have no mishaps with this case. She didn’t doubt he would be the first to call Dr. Webber to get her out of here. He seemed as territorial as a bulldog. She wondered what he had to guard...or perhaps hide.