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“Good to meet you, sir. I’m Peter Church, forensic pathologist. These are my associates, Ken and Trudy Barnes, husband and wife. I can’t tell you how excited we are to see what you’ve discovered.”
“Not a what. She’s a who. We already know who we discovered. Her name was Cries A Lot. She was Chickasaw, married to a Scotsman named Brendan Pope, the founder of our family and of the town of Jubilee. She was my five-greats grandmother, and there’s a multitude of her descendants living on that mountain behind you. She went missing in 1864, and we have the historical journal of that time to back the story. All we need is to prove to the locals that she’s not some recent murder victim, and there are upwards of a good two hundred Pope relatives willing to submit DNA tests to claim her.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Church said. “We’re ready to proceed. Just lead the way and we’ll follow you in our van.”
Cameron got back into his SUV and led the way out of town. But he was bothered and beginning to understand Aaron’s concerns of yesterday. These people didn’t have a personal connection. They’d see bones and artifacts. Something to put on display.
Their excitement was in direct opposition to the sadness the family felt yesterday. They saw the bones as history and nothing more.
After they got to the parking area and unloaded their gear, Cameron led the way through the forest to where the tent had been set up. The officer Woodley had sent to guard the site was still there and moved aside as Cameron began to caution them.
“The tent is strictly to keep out the elements. I cannot guarantee the safety of walking anywhere inside it. Yesterday, none of us knew this was here. My cousin was standing in the spot where the hole is now when the old door to the cellar below gave way. He was severely injured as he fell, so I suggest you move to the opening one at a time to descend. There’s no light source. Take your flashlights. And mind your step as you descend. It’s a long-ass way down. I’ll go first, then steady the ladder for the rest of you, and you can lower your gear with the ropes on site if you wish.”
They agreed and stood back watching as Cameron removed the plywood from over the opening, then picked up a large ladder they’d left inside the tent and lowered it into the opening, leaving a good four feet extending above ground once it was down.
Cameron shifted it around until he was satisfied it was set, turned on his LED lantern, and carefullylowered it into the cellar so he could see where he was climbing, then shouldered the small pack he’d brought with him and headed down. Even though he’d seen the pictures, he was unprepared for what he felt. Once he touched down, he untied his lantern from the rope, then swept the bright beam of light past the metal box to the plastic shroud beside it, shuddering at the sight.
Then he set the lantern on the box and moved back to the ladder, took a stance behind it, and grabbed hold with both hands.
“Okay to come down now!” he shouted.
And so they did, lowering their equipment first and then descending one by one, until all three of them were down.
Like Cameron, they took a quick look around the area, but their immediate focus was on what was beneath the plastic shroud.
“Who covered the remains like this?” Church asked.
“My cousin, B.J. Pope, the one who fell. He wanted to make sure no debris fell on her when we began enlarging the opening to get him out.”
“Right,” Church muttered.
Then Trudy Barnes leaned over, shining her light on the buckle B.J. left behind.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s B.J.’s belt buckle. I don’t know why he left it. Maybe he just wanted her to know she’d been found.”
And that was the moment the trio realized how emotional this was to the family. A look passed between them.
“We’re going to remove it now so we can get photos of the remains in situ,” Church said. “If you want to take the buckle back to your cousin, now would be the time to pack it up so it doesn’t get misplaced.”
Cameron put it into his pack, then stepped back to watch as they carefully removed the sheet of plastic. With all their lights now aimed at the remains, the position in which she was lying was bitterly poignant.
“Do you think they placed her like this?” Ken Barnes asked, eyeing the folded arms and hands clasped against her chest.
“No. We know she was shot, but she was still alive when they dumped her here. She died alone, and we think she died praying.”
“How do you know all this?” Church asked.
Cameron shrugged. “We have people in our family who some would call psychic or mediums. We were told she wasn’t dead when she was dumped. We were told this before we ever found her. Then to find her like this is all the proof we need that it was true. The Confederate soldiers who shot her and left her here damn sure weren’t worried about how she’d be found. She crawled into this position. She died in this position. And all we need from you is to remove her with dignity. She’s not going anywhere to be studied. She’ll never be put on display. Your job is to determine how long she’s been dead and get a tiny sample of bone to extract DNA. The morgue in Bowling Green has already volunteered their facility as a place to keep her remains until we’re allowed to bury her.”
The trio was mute. The giant before them had laid down an edict. There was no mistaking how serious the Pope family was. And at that point, all superfluous chatter ended.
“Yes, sir,” Church said. “The depth of your allegiance in this matter is commendable. We are honored to be able to help.”
At that point, they began carefully wrapping and packing the bones in the containers they’d brought down without uttering a word other than to ask for help or advice from one another on procedures.
Just as they were ready to begin carrying up the containers, they heard a shout from above.
