River of Bones

the remains with a brush, while the two boys carefully dug into the earth and sifted the dirt through a screen. Once the work was underway, Stone’s demeanor lost its edge, though Thomas believed she’d explode if anyone crossed her. Straightening his shoulders, Thomas trudged across the muddy bank and approached the doctor, careful to remain outside her work radius.
“Thank you for coming on short notice, Dr. Stone. I’m Sheriff Shepherd.”
Stone sniffed.
“You may run the county, Sheriff. But I’m judge, jury, and executioner at a dig site. Your team disturbed the evidence. I’ll ask you once to stand aside and let my students work.”
“I wouldn’t dream of interfering.”
Lambert huffed.
“We’re working together. What makes her think she’s important? We’re capable of digging through the mud on our own.”
Stone set her shovel aside and rose.
“Deputy, there are 700,000 active law enforcement officers in the United States and only one-hundred forensic anthropologists. I would never tell you how to do your job. But one of us here is replaceable, and one isn’t. Do the math.”
Lambert opened his mouth, and Thomas shook his head at him. Thomas shuffled closer and knelt for a better look as Stone used a brush to remove dirt from the skull.
“What can you tell me anything about this person?”
“I’ll reconstruct the skull inside the lab. But this appears to be a female.”
Thomas felt his stomach drop. A part of him wished it was male so he could rule out Skye Feron.
“How can you tell?”
“Females have smoother skulls than males. We’re not as hard headed.” She knocked her knuckles against her forehead. “Until I collect the fragments and piece the puzzle together, I won’t know for sure.” She ran the brush along the brow line. “Males have a more pronounced brow than this specimen displays. I’m missing too much of the jaw to make a determination. But male jaws jut more than female jaws. The female homo sapiens evolved. Which is to say males are closer to apes.” Stone narrowed her brow. “And that explains why my dig site looks trampled. Now, if I may draw your attention to the pelvis my assistants removed from the mud, so your heavy booted deputy wouldn’t crush it, you’ll note this pelvis offers space for the birth canal. Again, preliminary signs point to a female. Have you lost any women in the last several years, Sheriff?”
Thomas shuffled his feet.
“One.”
“For her family’s sake, let’s hope this isn’t her.”
“Any idea how she died?”
“Not yet. She could have fallen into the gorge, drowned in the creek, or electrocuted herself in a storm. There’s no way to make that determination from scattered bones. Please, Sheriff. Allow my team to work. I’ll give you answers after we get her back to the lab. Ms. Brookins? Dr. Harbough? If you’ll kindly lend your assistance.”
Claire and Virgil gave each other a cautious glance and moved to aid the team. Thomas spoke into his radio and raised Deputy Veronica Aguilar at the station. Aguilar was a diminutive, short-haired deputy with a bodybuilder’s physique. Last April, Aguilar accompanied Thomas to the Magnolia Dance, Wolf Lake’s annual spring festival. Before then, Thomas had never seen Aguilar in a dress. He was accustomed to her concocting protein smoothies and making crude jokes, the office blender whirring inside the kitchen.
“Aguilar here.”
“Aguilar, it’s Thomas.”
“How are things at the state park, Sheriff?”
Thomas wished she’d call him by his first name as she had before the county commissioner tagged him as interim sheriff. Since he claimed Gray’s position, Aguilar had become distant. She didn’t fire humorous jabs at him all day like she used to.
“It looks like we’ll be here a while. Preliminary indications are we’re dealing with a female.”
“Age?”
“No determination made yet. I want you to go through the missing persons database. Expand your search to surrounding counties. Give me a list of women who disappeared in the last ten years.”
“Roger that.”
After the radio call ended, Lambert strolled to Thomas and glared at the workers, his strong forearms folded over his chest.
“That one has an attitude bigger than Texas,” Lambert said, lifting his chin at Dr. Stone.
“Give them space. If she bites your head off, remember how important she is to this investigation.”
“You think it’s that girl who went missing several years back? The one whose parents swear she’s still out there?”
“Skye Feron.”
“That’s her.”
Thomas moved his eyes across the woods. The shadows deepened inside the forest, blotting out the sun. A shiver rolled through his body when he pictured the seventeen-year-old girl fleeing an unseen attacker toward the creek. Maybe she stumbled over the rocks in the dark, allowing the killer to close in.
“I hope this isn’t Skye Feron. But Dr. Stone seems certain the skull belongs to a female.” Thomas searched the woods for Darren. The forest ranger had circled up to the ridge trail. “Darren believes the Harmon Kings are running drugs through the park. This is a good place to make somebody disappear. Could be we’re dealing with a gang hit. Darren wants cameras inside the park, ones that will trigger if someone walks by.”
“Trail cameras,” Lambert said, nodding. “I’ll talk to him. You don’t want to go cheap with a trail camera. The good ones have night vision and fast triggers. Anything wanders by—a bear, raccoon, or Bigfoot—and the camera will capture it.”
A branch snapped inside the forest, pulling their gazes. It might have been an early morning hiker.
But sometimes a killer returned to the scene of his crime.

CHAPTER THREE
Monday, August 9th
10:20 a.m.
Chelsey Byrd lowered the windows on her green Honda Civic and invited the musty, humid morning into the car. The new car smell still clung to the interior, and this Civic replaced the car she’d wrecked chasing Mark Benson last month after Benson kidnapped Chelsey’s partner, Raven Hopkins. Same model, same color. She was a creature of habit.
Half the home improvement store’s parking lot sat under water. Though storms Friday night brought flooding rains, poor drainage was to blame here. Barricades cordoned off the left side of