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Shep hated how haggard Gil’s face was. He let go of Prim’s hand to clasp his boss’s shoulders.
Gil pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks for coming.” A shudder worked its way through his broad shoulders.
“Praying for you, sir.” Shep’s voice was hoarse. It was hard seeing such a strong man have his knees kicked out from under him like this.
“Appreciate it.” Gil stepped back and raised a crumpled white handkerchief to his eyes.
“Anything we can do to help, sir, you just let me or my uncle know.” Uncle Caleb would drop everything and coming running if Gil needed him. “We care. The whole town does. Shoot! Even Bliss Hawling flew into town for this.”
“I noticed.” Despite his grief, Gil Remington’s expression sharpened. “Haven’t had the chance to say anything to her yet, but…” He shook himself. “Thanks, Shep. For all the extra shifts you’ve been pulling lately. For everything.”
“My pleasure, sir.” Shep shook his hand again, then led Prim away.
“You just can’t help yourself, Sherlock.” She chuckled as he held open the door for her. “Always on the case.”
“That’s why I have such a high close rate, Watson.” He kept a hand on her lower back as he steered her outside.
It was as crowded on the front porch as it was in the living room. He had to carefully maneuver Prim through the clusters of mourning citizens to reach his patrol car.
The next morning, Bliss Hawling stumbled across a second grave in the same field beside The Longhorn Grill. It wasn’t far from the first one.
She rocked back on her heels, dusting her gloves in excitement as she stared at the half-petrified coffin sheathed inside another unmarked concrete vault. The thrill of discovery never grew old. She loved what she did for a living, piecing together the past to help the present make more sense.
In her experience, every rock, fossil, and pocket of sand had a story to tell. All a person had to do was take a close enough look to extract each precious detail. Some scientists and historians mistakenly assumed that mankind had already discovered nearly everything noteworthy, but they were wrong. Dead wrong.
The earth was still brimming with secrets, and the one she was pretty sure she was about to uncover was going to be mind-blowing. At least for the residents of Heart Lake.
She called the coroner, and he brought his van and equipment to help her relocate the coffin to his lab downtown. Within hours, they’d determined they were studying the remains of Deputy Jesse Hawling.
The letters the mayor lent them had exponentially shortened the time it took to come to that conclusion. Since both bodies were white settlers, she wasn’t sure it was enough to get the plot of ground declared a protected burial site. That was for the tribal council to decide. Her work here was done.
It saddened her to realize that she would have nothing else to keep her in Heart Lake after today. Then again, it had been a long shot using the funeral as an excuse to come home.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. If anything, the hollow feeling in her heart had grown even bigger throughout her visit.
The door opened behind her.
She closed her eyes, in no mood for another academic conversation with the coroner. “Not now, Terry. I?—”
“Hi, Bliss.”
She froze at the sound. Slowly spinning around, she stared in amazement at Sheriff Gil Remington.
“I, um…hello, sheriff.” She felt her face warm at the realization she sounded nothing like a woman with two PhDs under her belt. She cleared her throat and held out a dusty hand, summoning her most professional voice. “How may I help you?”
Though his face was pale from everything he’d endured in recent days, amusement glinted in his gaze as he stared down at her hand. “I just wanted to say thank you for coming to my wife’s funeral. It was very kind of you.”
Kindness hadn’t been what motivated her, but he didn’t need to know that.
“You’re welcome.” She lowered her hand, since he didn’t seem inclined to shake it. “I was already en route to help out with, er, this.” She waved a hand at the examination table behind her. They’d sealed it behind a plastic curtain to avoid contaminants.
Surprise flickered in his gaze. Then it was gone.
Did it mean he knew she was lying about her real reasons for coming to town? He was a sheriff with decades of investigative experience under his belt. He was probably much more skilled at interpreting body language than he was during her high school years. She stifled a shiver at the memory.
He looked good for a man in his mid-fifties. She’d give him that. His tall, strong body filled his white button-up shirt and jeans the same way they always had — with a brand of confidence and swagger that still had the ability to make her mouth go dry. Apparently, some things never changed.
He pushed his Stetson back and held her gaze for so long that she felt like squirming. However, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reducing her to a puddle with his steely lawman stare. She wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears teenager he’d pulled over for speeding.
