Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(6)

Sara stepped closer, scanning the rocks. Was this where they’d started their ascent? She looked around for more clues.

A flash of white caught her eye. She moved closer, switching on her headlamp. Fabric fluttered in the slight breeze. She made her way across the floor of the gorge, and with every step, her stomach tightened with dread.

A cranium protruded from the dirt.

As she reached the spot, Sara’s mind kicked into gear with a long list of tasks. At the top of that list was documentation.

Shoot your way in, shoot your way out. The CSI mantra had been drilled into her. After removing the lens cap, Sara lifted her camera and took the first of what would be dozens, maybe hundreds, of pictures tonight.

Snap. Snap. She inched closer, studying the scrap of fabric and the partially buried bones. Snap. Snap. Snap.

She lowered her camera and knelt in the dirt, and a familiar mix of pity and outrage washed over her.

Nolan Hess had been right. The remains were human.

But this was no missing hiker.

? ? ?

“Is it her?”

Nolan trekked down the steep slope, surprised he was still getting reception. “Don’t know,” he told the police chief over the phone.

“Did the anthropologist ever show?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, what’d he say?”

“She just got here. And I haven’t talked to her yet. She’s down in the gorge.”

Hank Miller cursed. Nolan scanned the trail for loose rocks, but it was hard to see in the dimness.

“I need something, Nolan. Sam Baird’s been ringing my phone off the hook since seven o’clock.”

“Mine, too.” Looking ahead, Nolan caught a flicker of light through the trees.

“And the mayor’s calling me. I want an update tonight.”

“You’ll know something soon as I do,” Nolan told him.

The flicker moved back and forth like a pendulum, and Nolan stopped to wait, turning on his flashlight so he wouldn’t spook her.

“Call me later,” Hank said. “I’ll be up.”

“Will do.”

Nolan slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans as Sara Lockhart hiked up the path. According to Evans, she’d shown up dressed for a cocktail party. Now she looked like a miner coming in from a long day. She wore a helmet with a lamp attached—either she’d switched it off, or it had run out of juice—and the knees of her coveralls were brown with dirt. Even with her sleeves rolled up to the elbows, she had to be suffocating in this heat.

She stopped in front of him. “Detective Hess?”

“Call me Nolan.” He offered his hand, and she gave it a firm shake.

“Sara Lockhart.”

She pulled off the helmet, and honey-colored hair spilled around her shoulders. In the stark glare of the flashlight, her eyes were an impossible shade of green. Nolan tried not to stare.

He cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. So, what have we got down there?”

“Human remains.” She wiped her brow with her forearm. “Advanced decomposition.”

“A skeleton?”

“Not quite. There’s still some desiccated soft tissue.”

He waited for more, but she just looked at him.

“Male? Female?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said. “But based on the personal effects I could see, it’s probable we’re dealing with a female.”

Nolan sighed as he thought of Sam Baird and the raw pain he’d heard in the man’s voice message.

“Again, that’s unconfirmed,” she added.

Lightning flashed, and they both looked up. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight,” Sara said.

“It’s not, at least not according to the forecast.” Nolan looked around at the arid landscape in the rapidly falling darkness. Ten more minutes, and it would be black as tar. He looked at Sara. “Flash floods can be deadly out here, though. I don’t recommend we spend any more time in the gorge tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

She stepped around him and continued up the path. Surprised, he trailed behind her. She wasn’t tall, but she had long strides, and her hiking boots had seen plenty of use.

“This is a delicate recovery.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’ll need people, equipment. I won’t be able to get everything on-site until tomorrow.”

He hoped to hell she meant morning, but who knew how long it would take for her to get people and gear all the way from Delphi? Nolan had never visited the world-famous crime lab, but he knew it was in San Marcos, a good two hours away. The Delphi Center sat on several hundred acres of ranchland that had been converted into a forensic anthropology research center, also known as a body farm.

They reached the top of the trail, and she stopped to look around. “Did Bryce leave?”

“Who?” he asked.

“The search-and-rescue guy.”

“Gaines. Yeah.” They were on a first-name basis already. “ACSAR cleared out about half an hour ago. Weekends are busy for them.”

Sara nodded and surveyed the parking lot. The hatchbacks were gone, leaving only Nolan’s truck, the park district Suburban, and a black SUV. Sara pulled some keys from her pocket, along with a cell phone.