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He sighed. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you?”
“Yup.” I tapped my phone, then held it up on speaker as it rang.
“Maza.”
“Dan, it’s Hart.”
I heard him sigh and felt a pang of sympathy for all the times I’d responded to Ward’s calls in the same way. I also didn’t hold it against Dan, since I was fully aware of the giant headache we habitually caused for the RPD every time Ward or Beck found a body.
“Where’s the body and how long has it been dead?” he asked me.
“Hampton Roads, no fucking clue, don’t even know if it’s human,” I answered.
“You don’t know if it’s human?”
“Nope. I’ve got a dead lady who was very insistent that I play gravedigger, but also says that it isn’t her grave. I just uncovered the end of a bone. No one has determined what kind.”
“Can you?”
“If you let me dig it out and hand it to the nice talks-to-dead-people guy.”
“Say hi to Ward for me.”
Ward waved.
“He says hello back,” I told Dan. “So can I keep going?”
“Take pictures, call me back if it’s human.”
“Will do.” I almost hung up, then noticed Ward giving me a don’t-you-hang-up-without-saying-goodbye glare. “Thanks, Dan.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He hung up on me, and I gave Ward a look that essentially said that hanging up on people was how cops communicated with one another. His expression said he didn’t care, and I had to be polite to people on the phone.
Since he was now technically my boss, I was trying. I’d even thanked Dan for letting me go play more in the dirt.
Under a scorching September sun. Without having eaten lunch yet.
With a sigh, I got back up and went to unearth the bone, taking pictures as I went.
When Madeeha returned with our sandwiches, I kept working, wanting to get the stupid thing out first.
Successful, I left the bone near Ward’s chair, then went in to wash my hands before coming back to claim my sandwich and chips. Dead-people dirt is not a tasty sandwich accompaniment. Madeeha was frowning at the bone as I unwrapped my food.
“It looks… small,” she observed.
I nodded. “Yup.”
Her expression was horrified. “A child?”
“Could also be an animal, honestly,” I replied. “Lots of animal leg bones aren’t that distant from ours when you strip everything else away. And without other bones for context, it could be human, or it could be animal, or it could be Arcanid.”
Madeeha shuddered. “I hope it’s an animal,” she said, looking uncomfortable. “Do you—Would it be okay if I went back inside?”
She was clearly unhappy about the idea of a dead person being in the museum’s yard, and she’d been plenty helpful, so I took pity on her. “Sure. I’ll come find you if we need anything.”
She nodded, then went in.
