Concrete Evidence (5 page)

She looked uncertain for a moment, then set the ziplock bag on a table and grabbed a stick. “I haven’t played in a long time.”

“Aim low.”

She looked at him, her mouth curved in a playful smile. “I know. I went to college—not as long as you, of course—but I know how to play pool.” She made the shot, aiming low to create backspin so the cue didn’t follow the nine into the pocket. She sank three more balls before her turn ended with the cue ball the length of the table away from a good shot at a solid.

“Damn. You’re good.” He studied the table. He knew exactly where he wanted to leave the cue ball to force her to attempt a behind-the-back shot. He missed his long shot on purpose and placed the ball strategically.

She went for the tricky shot and looked good with her back arched over the cue. But her next shot was even better. She leaned across the table, hips pressed to the rail, ass angled upward as she rose on her toes. He became instantly hard.

Damn. He was a fool playing with fire.

Movement caught his eye, and Sam Riversong entered the room. He must have witnessed Lee’s gaze transfixed on Erica’s ass, because a knowing smile spread across the chairman’s face.
Busted
.

She sank her ball.

“Nice shot,” Riversong said.

Erica whirled in surprise. “Mr. Riversong. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here.” She returned her cue stick to the wall rack.

“No, finish your game,” the elderly tribal member said. “We can talk here. Looks like you’re about to wipe the table with this man’s ego anyway.”

On Lee’s turn, he sank one to save his pride, but the stick slipped on the ball when Erica introduced him using his full name.

Would his last name jog the man’s memory? His mother’s last name had been Scott for only two years before changing to husband number two’s name. The man would only recognize the name if he had a long memory for details.

But the moment passed without incident, and Erica took her turn. She sank the eight ball and won. The chairman challenged Erica to a game. Lee did his best to fade into the background while they played and discussed the Thermo-Con house.

Riversong lined up a shot and said, “Why should I care about the bones under the sump?”

“I suspect they’re human. They could be a prehistoric burial.”

“They won’t be disturbed anymore. The pump is fixed.”

“From what I’ve read of the rehabilitation plan, the basement is going to be revamped. The sump fix is a temporary measure to end the flooding, but what if you want to make more dramatic changes? The fact that there could be a burial there would severely limit what you could do, unless you plan ahead. It’s possible the army placed the house in the middle of a prehistoric burial ground. In the fifties, everyone would have looked the other way.”

“So what do you propose?”

“I’d like to have the bone tested to determine the age and if it is human or not.”

“And if the bone isn’t human?”

“Then we assume we found the remains of a prehistoric dinner.”

“And if it is human?”

“We’ll dig shovel tests in the yard to determine if there are other burials in the vicinity.”

Riversong was silent for a moment, considering. Finally, he said, “No. We should let sleeping dogs lie.”

Erica lined up the cue and the eight ball. “I’ve read the tribe’s agreement with the government, which requires you to develop management plans for the Menanichoch land,” she said. “You need to know where your cultural resources—including burials—are. Your land wasn’t set aside by a treaty, so it isn’t technically a reservation. The government could use any perceived mismanagement to nullify your agreement and take the land back.” She paused, never taking her eyes off the table. “The tribe would lose everything, including the casino.”

Shock kicked Lee in the gut as Riversong’s jaw clenched and eyes hardened. Erica had just threatened a man who ate shortcake like her for breakfast.

H
OLY CRAP.
S
HE’D JUST THREATENED
the casino. The meeting was not following the script Erica had envisioned. First, Riversong’s attitude toward potential Indian remains had stunned her.
We should let sleeping dogs lie.
Had he really called his ancestors
dogs
?

No. Surely he’d meant they shouldn’t create trouble by digging in a potential burial ground. That made more sense.

She had good reason to suspect someone high up in the tribe, and Sam Riversong, a former museum curator who knew all the players, was her top suspect. For a year now she’d wondered if an Indian would buy stolen artifacts—trafficking in artifacts was so far outside the value system of every Native American she’d ever known—but now, after finally meeting the man face-to-face, she believed he might.

While the bones were a curious find, she wasn’t pushing for the tests out of concern they were human. No, her motives were self-serving, and she would add the guilt this triggered to the load she’d amassed over the last year. Someday her conscience would demand deep reckoning, but for now she just wanted to know what really mattered to Sam Riversong: bones, house, tribe, or casino?

She focused on the table and took her shot. The cue ball smacked into the eight, which obediently slid into the corner pocket but was followed by the white cue. She swallowed a lump of dread. On the most important shot of the game, she’d forgotten to aim low.

“You lost.” Riversong’s voice was frigid, the look in his eyes even colder. “You might think my win due to your scratch isn’t a real victory for me, but I like to win, and I don’t care how I do it.”

“I was careless.” She met his eyes without flinching. “And lost fair and square.”

Riversong’s cold brown eyes pierced her; then suddenly he smiled. “Good.” He snatched a ball out of the nearest pocket. “Let’s place a wager on this game.”

“Great.” Lee grabbed a cue. “If I win, then Shortcake gets her tests to determine the species and age of the bone.”

“Shortcake?” she said, bristling at the nickname.

“And if I win?” Riversong asked.

“We return the bone to the hole and forget about it,” Lee said.

“Lee, this isn’t how archaeology is done!” Panic jolted through her. Lee sucked at pool. Would she lose this opportunity to work with Riversong?

The chairman grinned. “I like it. Rack ’em up. I break.”

She squirmed as Riversong sank three balls before relinquishing the table. “Don’t go for the long shot, go for the corner,” she said. She felt sick. “You’re lousy at long shots.”

Lee turned to her. His green eyes swept her from head to toe in a blatant caress. “I can sink long with my eyes closed. Earlier I missed on purpose. You looked great, by the way, with your back arched over your stick and your butt up on the table.”

The sonofabitch had just reduced her to a sex object in front of a client. She would maim him. At the first opportunity. “Just take the shot,” she said through gritted teeth.

Lee leaned down, lined up the ball, and closed his eyes.

“With your eyes open!”

He winked at her and made the shot. Riversong never got another turn.

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

W
ITH
S
AM
R
IVERSONG’S PERMISSION
, Erica returned to the Thermo-Con house to collect bones for the species and carbon-14 tests. Kneeling over the hole in the floor, she studied a fragment that was the right size and shape to be a human carpal bone. She smiled. This was almost certainly human; the expert might not even need to run a genetic test. If this turned out to be a burial, then Riversong would have to meet with her again, and more than anything, she wanted access to the chairman.

She packed the bones inside another bag, said good-bye to the plumbers, and left the house. At her car, she slid into the driver’s seat and faced Lee, who’d been waiting while she collected the samples. She still hadn’t figured out how she was going to murder him without being arrested. She faced forward and twisted the key in the ignition.

“Stop brooding and say it,” he said.

She glared at him. “You’re a pig.”

He smiled. “See, was that so hard?”

She put the car in drive, but his hand covered hers on the gearshift. “You’re pissed, but the truth is, by diminishing you, I made it hard for Riversong to take you or your threats seriously. I saved your ass.”

The look in his eyes said he was serious. The hand covering hers squeezed slightly, and she had the insane notion he was soothing her in the same way he’d calm a riled cat.

Who is this man?

“Did you really do it on purpose?” she asked.

“I just said I did.”

“No, I mean miss your shot. Did you set me up for the behind-the-back-shot?”

He looked at her incredulously, then laughed. “
That’s
what you’re upset about?”

She jerked her hand away from his and pulled onto the road, disgusted with herself for asking such a revealing question.

“Okay, I admit it,” he said. “Yes. And it was worth it.”

Ignoring the miniscule ripple of pleasure his words caused, she fixated on the tidal wave of frustration. “You are my intern. I am your boss. This stops here. Now.”

“Okay,
Boss
, as your intern, I’m trying to learn about archaeology and want to know why those bones are so important you threatened the casino to get authorization for the tests.”

“I wasn’t
threatening
. I was
explaining
why my client needs to comply with environmental law.”

“If Riversong thinks you’re a threat to the casino, he’ll have your perfect ass fired.”

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I told you to stop.”

“I wasn’t hitting on you. I was merely stating a fact: your ass is perfect.”

She jabbed at the buttons on the car stereo and turned up the volume until a lovesick girl singing about a boy she’d lost prevented further conversation. Too bad the music couldn’t make her stop worrying about the disturbing pleasure she took from Lee’s callous compliment.

Back at Talon & Drake, she wrapped the bones for testing, then dropped them in the overnight mail bin. She returned to their office and studied Lee, who was filling out paperwork for personnel. Maybe if she bored him to tears, he’d leave her alone.

She cleared her throat to get his attention. “I’ve got a cell tower site to visit. While I’m gone, I want you to read the regs that govern our work. Look them up online. Start with the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966, as amended. Focus on Section 106—it’s the primary driver for the work we do. When you’re done with that, read the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act—NAGPRA; and the Archaeological Resources Protection Act—known as ARPA.” She held back a smile. He’d be asleep before he got through Section 106.

Lee turned back to his paperwork, dismissing her. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. The National Archives. Lee was connected to a bigwig, and it was her job to train him. Bad enough she was ditching him now so she could go back to the reservation; Janice would be angry if she ditched him all day tomorrow as well. She couldn’t screw up her job, not now. “We’ll meet at the Archives as soon as it opens. I want you to look up their research protocol online.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been there before. Find out what time they open and what we can bring with us—computers, papers, pencils, purses, that sort of thing. Call me on my cell and let me know what you find out.” She gave him her number.

“Tech support still has my laptop, and I need a network ID to access the Internet.”

She hesitated, but really, she had no choice. “Use my computer.” She pulled her company ID card from the lanyard around her neck. “This plugs into the card slot and will give you access to the network.” She placed a hand on the table and leaned over him. “If you lose my ID, you’ll be my new workout bag.”

The warm glint in his eye said he had already begun to fantasize. “Yes, ma’am.”

He moved to her desk and inserted the card while she gathered her purse and project files.