Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)

Her Grave Secrets (Rogue River #3)

Kendra Elliot




CHAPTER ONE



The skull smiled at Stevie.

That is, if it were possible to smile without your lower jaw; it was more of a grimace. The dark, empty eye sockets taunted her, asking what’d happened to the rest of the bones.

“We’ll figure it out,” she promised. “There’s enough here to get us started.”

Crouched in the dirt next to the skull, Solitude police chief Zane Duncan looked up. “You say something?”

“Talking to myself.”

His blue gaze held hers. “What do you think?”

Stevie took a tentative breath, thankful that the scents of river, forest, and mudbanks filled the air, not the smell of decomp. Two fishermen had found the skull on the banks of the Rogue River that morning. It was half-embedded in the firm dirt next to a large fir that had fallen, the rest of the skeleton possibly under the trunk. She could see where the river had dug into the bank behind her and eaten away at the roots of several of the tall firs. This tree had given in to the hunger of the river and toppled, leaving its roots exposed.

“Do you think he got trapped when the tree fell?” Stevie wondered aloud to her boss.

“You think it’s a he?” Zane asked.

“I’m no anthropologist, but I spent enough time with the forensic teams in LA to say with some certainty that’s a male skull. Look at those brow ridges. This guy was practically a Neanderthal. Hopefully no woman had a face like that.” She forced a smile. Sometimes using humor was the only way to stay sane in her job as a cop. Outsiders might call her insensitive, but the soft snort from Zane told her he understood.

“It’s a big rugged skull. Not small and feminine. And see how the bone protrudes below where his right ear should be? That’s a male characteristic. It’s easier to see the differences when male and female skulls are side by side.” She’d been so frustrated with her lack of knowledge at a recovery scene in Los Angeles, she’d spent the next week studying up on male and female skeletal anatomy with an anthropologist friend. Stevie wasn’t an expert, but she was confident in this educated guess. She gestured, taking in the huge trunk of the tree. “Hank will probably want a forensics team to remove the rest of the tree and the skeleton.”

“I don’t see why we need a forensics team,” said Carter the young cop, looking over her shoulder. “There’s no sign that something bad happened. It could just be an old cemetery or even an Indian site. This skull might have been here for two hundred years.”

“Even more reason to leave it to the experts. Let’s not start off on the wrong foot and disturb a possible crime scene or mess with an Indian burial ground.” Stevie studied the skull. She didn’t know how to identify the racial characteristics of bones, but she knew it could be done. Zane reached out with a gloved hand and brushed at the dirt near the side of the skull, trying to get a clear look at the bony protrusion Stevie had pointed out. She grinned at the look of concentration on his face. No doubt Zane would be online studying some skulls tonight.

“Well, it’s definitely a crime scene,” Zane said, glancing at Carter. “I’m no anthropologist either, but I know bullet holes when I see them.”

He pointed at two round openings near the back of the skull.



Zane stood back and watched Hank, the medical examiner, direct his team. Hank and three others had set up a grid and carefully removed the dirt around the tree, screening it into buckets for small bones or any other evidence. Then two loggers had cut through the tree and removed a large section of trunk, under which Zane assumed the rest of the bones would be found. Hank had discovered several in the dirt around the tree, and confirmed that Stevie was right about the sex.

Hank had clucked his tongue as he’d initially studied the skull. “You pissed off someone, didn’t you?” He turned it carefully in his gloved hands. “Someone had the gun right up close to his head when they fired.” He tipped the skull to show Zane. “Perfect circles. Not oval. There wasn’t any angle to the direction of fire. No exit wounds either. I suspect I’ll find the bullets inside when I clean out the matter.”

Zane had tried not to cringe. The remains were almost completely skeletal, but the inside of the skull still held a mass that he didn’t want to study too closely.

“Caliber?” he asked.

“Small,” answered Hank. “The entry wound size and the fact that there’s no exit wound indicate a small-caliber handgun. I bet I’ll find a couple 22s inside.”

“How do you know those aren’t the exit wounds?” Carter had asked. “Maybe he was shot through the eyes and they exited there.”

“No outside bevels around the holes,” answered Hank. “Bevels indicate the direction the bullet pierced the skull. A bullet exiting bone makes a larger hole than when it enters it. I can show you after I clean out the skull.”

Carter had shaken his head, looking pale. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Now Zane tried not to tap his foot as Hank’s assistants cleared away the wood dust created by the saws. He wanted to see the rest of the remains. Some clothing would be helpful, maybe a wallet to identity their mystery victim.

“Quit glaring,” Stevie whispered next to him. “You’re making the crew nervous.”