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Ronin was right. We need the police. Especially as I’m getting the distinct impression that this discovery is not the only disconcerting thing to happen on this atoll.
A fresh gust of wind brings the first spray of rain.
Ronin parks behind the rec building just as the skies open up. For a moment, we both sit there, staring at the wall of water cascading down in silver sheets. Then, without saying a word, we climb out of the UTV and trudge through the deluge to Vaughn’s office.
I LET RONIN do the talking, taking up a position near the back wall with my arms wrapped around my torso for warmth. The air-conditioning that had been so refreshing yesterday now feels positively chilling. I could blame it on the fact I’m soaking wet, but it’s also just that kind of morning.
To give Vaughn credit, once Ronin starts talking, the project manager doesn’t interrupt. His expression, which had started out with its usual annoyed scowl, has now settled into a look of one hundred percent intensity. He doesn’t argue with the basics, and he doesn’t disagree with Ronin’s conclusion.
“According to NAGPRA,” Vaughn states when Ronin finally winds down, “the discovery of any human remains less than fifty years old must be reported to law enforcement. Your expert opinion is that this grave falls within that time frame?”
“The clothing is of modern origin,” Ronin states.
“All right, I’ll contact Oahu on the sat phone. Our issue is going to be when the feds can get here.”
“How so?” I finally speak up.
Vaughn flickers a look in my direction. He frowns at my shivering form, then stands up, grabs a gray sweatshirt off a hook, and tosses it to me. “You’re freezing.”
I don’t say anything. It’s not a question. But I accept his offering, slipping the oversize garment over my head. It feels soft against my icy skin and smells faintly of saltwater and sunscreen.
Vaughn continues to study me. I stare back. Does he expect me to break down in tears or erupt into screams? I reserve the right to do both, though now that the initial shock has passed, I’ve moved beyond my graveside meltdown—which Ronin graciously glossed over.
The archaeologist offers me a bolstering smile. Nothing like exhuming a skeleton to bond two crazy kids.
“This storm,” Vaughn says at last. He looks from Ronin to me and back to Ronin again, clearly catching the fresh vibe. His eyes narrow, contemplating. “It’s supposed to last at least twenty-four hours.”
Ronin grimaces, understanding implications I don’t.
“It’ll be a bit,” Vaughn fills in, “before any planes can attempt the flight.”
“MacManus. Wasn’t he supposed to arrive today?”
“Not anymore. If the wind and rain weren’t challenging enough, the cloud cover is too low. No visibility to make the landing.”
“Do you still want me to set up his lodging this afternoon?” I ask.
“No rush. You can take the afternoon off if you’d like. If you need,” he adds belatedly.
“What do we tell the others?” Ronin speaks up.
Vaughn purses his lips, frowns. “I’d prefer to say nothing. ’Course, that never works.”
“I won’t talk,” I counter immediately, my voice harsher than intended. “I know how to be discreet.”
Vaughn holds up two hands in a placating manner. “Not doubting your or Ronin’s character. Just the nature of camp life. We’re a captive audience with vast amounts of downtime. Someone will figure out something, and then the whispering will start, and then it’s all over. Better to be open and honest.”
I shake my head. I don’t know why. I’m protective of our find, that poor woman. For her fate to become a salacious tale swapped around the mess hall feels wrong to me. And yet, I get Vaughn’s point.
“I’ll make an announcement over dinner. Keep it simple. You discovered human remains that may fall within the fifty-year threshold. Bringing in the feds just to be safe. Our job is to hold tight and let the agents do their job. Which brings me to the next salient issue—anyone else know specifically where you were working today?”
Ronin hesitates. “AO,” he confesses at last.
Vaughn gives the archaeologist a look. Clearly I’m not the only one who’s noticed the air of intimacy between the two.
“We’re strictly professional,” Ronin protests.
Now Vaughn rolls his eyes. “You’re two grown adults. How you plan on navigating this… situation… is on you to figure out; just know I wield a positively nasty I-told-you-so.”
