Dying to Know (14 page)

Al this was surrounded by two bul dozers, a backhoe, and

two large road graders—the idle reminders of the battle between

history and development.

A sleepy security guard lounged in a lawn chair in front of a

portable construction trailer that sat at the far end of the site. He sat sipping coffee while he watched Angel at a worktable in front

of the trailer. She was examining a pile of stones and dirt, which she photographed with a small digital camera. André Cartier

hovered over her taking notes.

“I appreciate you coming today, André,” Angel said.

“Of course. Ernie told me about what happened at his house

yesterday morning. Perhaps if I’d stayed a little longer, I would

have seen something.”

“I don’t know, André. Yesterday, I was positive about the in-

truder. Today, I’m not sure it ever happened—no one is. I don’t

want to talk about it. It’s over.”

André studied her for a long time. “I understand—completely.

You have so much on your plate. Have you made the arrange-

ments?”

The arrangements would be for me.

Her eyes dropped. “Yes, two days from now. Just a small ser-

vice. The Department is upset—they want a full ceremony with

the police honor guard and the like.”

“Of course they do, Angela.” André looked solemn. “But it’s

your decision. Just family?”

“Yes, just.”

“And Detective Braddock?”

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Angel stopped taking photographs and looked over the cam-

era at him. “Of course. Why?”

“I don’t care for the way he’s hovering over you.” André was

not a historian just now, but a surrogate father. “He was only

Tuck’s partner, for heaven’s sake. He’s overstepping himself.”

“Nonsense, André. They were more than partners. Bear’s

been family for years—to both of us.”

She changed the subject. “I’m going to finish logging these

samples. Then, I want to excavate some more.”

“Yes, of course.” André took the hint. “I’m sorry, Angela.”

“We need to find much more of the skeletons to determine if

this were a gravesite or not. So far, with the few skeletal pieces we’ve found, an argument could be made they are mere fragments from a battle and not an intentional interment at al .”

“If there are more bones, we’ll find them.”

Angel pointed to a stack of books and folded documents on

the end of the table. “There’s an 1860s land map with property

recordings in there. I found it in the town archives. It shows a

structure—probably this old barn—on this site. That’s the foun-

dation Tyler’s equipment dug up.”

“What are you thinking?”

She stood up and stretched. “Wel , I suppose it could be an un-

marked family cemetery, but I doubt it. Both the Confederate and

Union armies used the main house as a headquarters at different

times.”

“Perhaps,” André said, picking up the papers, “the old barn

was a field hospital.”

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“Yes, that could explain the remains. The surgeries were very

brutal, as you know. They could have discarded amputations or

other remains in makeshift graves. When the bulldozers unearthed

the stone foundation, they might have uncovered those. Burials

could be haphazard and unrecorded after the battles.”

André nodded. “We should have a team sift the debris pile.

Byrd’s men were using a backhoe when they found the bones.

They could have plowed up the remaining skeletons into the pile.

I’ll work the debris pile if you want to keep working the founda-

tion here.”

“Good idea.” Angel descended into the big pit beneath the old

barn’s crumbled foundation. There were a few piles of hand-

honed timbers on one side and the remnants of the stone foun-

dation on the other. The entire site was only perhaps thirty feet

across and about twelve feet deep.

This was the heart of Kel y’s Dig.

I stood on the edge and looked around. A breeze blew

through the tall grass and nearby trees, rustling what few fall

leaves were left. The air smelled of turned earth and that musky,

autumn smell I’ve loved since childhood. The breeze, the scent,

and the sound of the trees were magical. Closing my eyes, I took

it all in.

I’d been here before.

No, not chasing Civil War skeletons or battlefield historical

markers—but watching two dark-skinned men digging in the

night. Digging in my foyer. Digging here.

My vision.

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If it were here where those men were sweating in the lamp-

light, what did it mean? When had it happened? Was it recent?

The future? Perhaps years or decades ago? Had it been them who

buried soldiers after some horrific battle?

No answers fluttered to me. I sat on the edge of the pit watch-

ing André and Angel work.

Thirty minutes later, Angel’s excavation stopped.

“André, I’ve found something.”

He joined her in the pit. “What?”

“Here, at the corner of the stones.” She chipped away at the

base of the foundation ten feet below the lip of the pit. “The

foundation goes down deep here. This must have been a root cel-

lar beneath the barn. Byrd’s people broke through the corner

stones and col apsed the wal s. There was definitely something

down there.”

The foundation stones ended in a crude pattern, covered in

clay. There was a two-feet hole dug into the corner of the stones, probably by a backhoe, and a few of the stones were missing.

Angel had dug deep into the soil on the fringes of the hole and

more of the stones were now falling away. The foundation’s cor-

ner was ful y exposed.

“Look, ” she said, pointing her trowel. “Looks like bone.”

André knelt down and brushed the loose dirt away from the

stones. A dul , dirt-crusted, grayish saucer, perhaps six inches in diameter, protruded out of the ground.

“Well now,” he said. “This looks like a partial parietal bone.

It’s in remarkable shape, too.”

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“This piece was inside the old foundation, I think.” Angel

picked up her camera and took several photographs. “I cannot

imagine someone being accidental y interred this way.”

“The heavy equipment could have moved all this around.”

André stood up. “We might need ground-radar equipment.

That’ll show us if there are actual y more bone or graves here. It’s going to take a lot of time.”

“And cost a lot of money.” Angel frowned. “A
lot
of money.

Tyler won’t be very happy.”

“No, least of all with us.”

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t went y-t wo

While Angel and André worked Kel y’s Dig, I spent the rest of

the day mulling Angel’s abduction. My premonition in that dark

parking lot, somewhere in her future, terrified me. If there was

any good news, it was that I had not seen her death, or witnessed

worse. Worse, I say, because now that I’ve experienced the “after”

side of death, it’s not being dead that is troubling—it’s how you

get that way. My demise was just a blur of movement, a flash of

light. It was over in an instant. What may lay ahead for Angel

might be far more horrifying.

If only I could reach her. If only I could warn her or Bear. My

faded voice on Bear’s cel phone ignited an argument between

them that ended in a draw. Angel chose hope, Bear denial. I

wasn’t even sure which Angel embraced the most. Bear was a lost

cause, but there might be a way to reach her.

If only I could find it.

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It was nearly dark before Angel drove home and went to

shower off the dust and grime from Kel y’s Dig. She changed into

a business suit and put on some expensive perfume. Twenty min-

utes later, we were driving toward the far side of town with her

briefcase between us. I’d used the “being there” trick that Doc

taught me and popped into the passenger’s seat for the ride.

“Ah, Angel? Where are we going.”

A smile cracked the corners of her mouth. I asked again and

just when I thought she might answer, her cell phone rang.

“Hello? Oh, hello, Ernie.”

He was giving her an ear full. She interrupted him, saying,

“Yes, André and I photographed and documented the skull bone.

The judge will have to keep the injunction in place for at least a couple more months. That should please you, Ernie.”

More ire from him.

She frowned. “It’ll take longer, but yes, we’ll do the excavation

ourselves. We’ll find every skeletal fragment we can. I promise.”

That seemed to calm the old coot down and Angel’s smile con-

firmed that. “I’m pulling into the parking lot now. See you in-

side.”

Oh, hell no.

As Angel turned into the Northern Shenandoah Valley High

School parking lot, a searing ice pick penetrated me. The lot was

filling but she was able to park two rows from the front on the far end. It was a large campus with a grand, three-story, brick and

stone main collegiate building that joined three other structures

around a quad. The campus was rich with oaks and evergreens

that enveloped the grounds—particularly the parking areas—and

128

gave the campus ivy-league charm. That charm was gone now,

shrouded by a veil of dread and hopelessness.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t stop her.

Angel climbed from the Explorer and joined a group of peo-

ple walking toward the quad. In a moment, she disappeared in a

gathering of others and was gone.

Dear God, not tonight. Not here. I wasn’t ready. I had no plan.

The school’s marquee announced the Frederick County

Board of Supervisors meeting. A special town meeting to discuss

the impact of Kelly’s Dig on the new highway bypass. Anyone

and everyone with the tiniest bit of interest in the project were

expected to be here. Ernie, André Cartier, Tyler Byrd, and of

course, Angel.

It was all here. The parking lot. The premonition. Angel. Only

one thing was missing and I prayed it stay away. It did not. The

darkness turned desperate and the clouds chilled me.

Then, it started to rain.

129

t went y-three

Angel had been inside more than two hours and most of the

other people attending the meeting were gone now. Only a few

cars remained. While she was inside, I stood vigil over her car

and watched, hoping I was wrong. At the front of the quad, I

searched the trees and bushes for any sign of danger. Everyone

who passed by was a potential stalker—anyone walking instead

of running through the rain was he—but none were. Maybe I

was wrong.

No.

He was there. I saw him just beyond the rim of wet, tense

darkness—waiting. No, that was wrong, too. I felt him. Danger

and lethality simmered somewhere ahead, just beyond recogni-

tion. Through the dark, there was the tenseness of waiting, ebb-

ing patience, and anxiety.

He was waiting for Angel.

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A dark panel van sat in the center of the lot, three rows be-

hind Angel’s Explorer. I couldn’t see inside but knew a man was

there. I felt the intensity of his focus. How I felt the connection, I don’t know—but it was unmistakable. The image of a tal , powerful man filled me. His raw, uninhibited menace stabbed at me

like hot, burning pokers. His image fit my premonition. Perhaps

he was the same man who shot at Angel. There was no evidence

of that, but there could be no other explanation. Who else would

do her harm?

A twinge of angst struck me and I felt anticipation. Was it his

or mine?

Through the quad’s darkness, I heard a door shut. Angel

emerged from the main school building and walked alone into

the parking lot. I ran to her, staying just a few steps ahead. Fear made me stay between her and the van; reason said I could do

nothing to save her.

“Angel, you have to go back inside. Please, go back inside.”

I focused all my thoughts on her—trying to will my words

into her conscious but couldn’t penetrate the veil between our

worlds. “He’s here, in that van. You have to go back.”

She slowed her pace and dug inside her bag. As she moved,

her head pivoted around, searching the parking lot. Something

startled her. Her pace quickened as her hunt for keys became

frantic. I urged her to move faster—prodding her, pleading with

her. I didn’t know if my words were reaching her but she was re-

sponding, feeling the danger, seeking safety.

“Angel, get into the Explorer. Go. Run!”

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She strained to see into the darkness as the van’s engine

started. It was moving; now two rows away, rolling forward. She

groped deeper into her purse and grasped her keys. Her pace was

near a run.

“Go. Get out of here.”

She kept an eye on the van and she hastened her steps as the

danger prodded her on. We reached the Explorer and she trig-

gered the electric lock. “Tuck, why aren’t you here?”

“I am. I’ll get you out of here. Hurry.”

The van was on us. Its lights were on high and bore down on

Angel. She sprang into the Explorer and started the engine. I

waited outside urging her to safety. The engine roared but before

she could pull away, the van stopped perpendicular to her door.

He flashed his lights. The high beams blinded her and she froze,