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He held up his hands in defense.
“Everything okay, Sheriff?” Wyatt called down, concern evident in his voice.
I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my composure. “Toss down the evidence bags and tie off some rope. Get the engineers to help you.”
As I waited for the supplies, I expected Connor to act smug, but instead, his gaze was fixed on the unearthed mess, scanning every inch. He was thoughtful andwatchful, his shoulders back, and loose-limbed, and all I could think was, what was he checking for? Was I missing something?
And more important, why was I second-guessing myself?
As he continued studying the scene, I focused on the intensity in his eyes and how his muscles were relaxed but ready. Connor’s attention to detail was maddening. He seemed to notice things I overlooked, his mind working in ways that challenged me. Yes, he was black and white, and he put himself in situations he shouldn’t, but he also anticipated danger in everything, always prepared and always on alert. That must be so tiring.
I forced myself to focus, to push aside the growing unease I was missing something at the scene. I was the sheriff, and I needed to act like it.
The evidence bags, rope, and gloves were lowered, and I caught them, then I tossed a pair of gloves to Connor, but as I turned back to secure the rope, the side wall began to crumble.
“Neil!” Connor grabbed my arm and pulled me away as the wall collapsed, sending chunks of mud and rock tumbling into the hole.
“Thanks,” I muttered, the rain blurring my vision and making the situation more precarious.
“We need to get this up and out of here,” Connor said, and we worked together in a tense, focused silence, fastening and securing the ropes around the old, mud-covered luggage. Connor’s hands moved with a practiced efficiency to form complicated knots, and despite ourdifferences, we both knew what needed to be done as the sides slipped again. If we weren’t careful, we’d also get buried under here.
This was fucking stupid. Why was I even in this damn hole?
Oh, yeah. Connor.
As the last of the luggage was lifted out, we both watched it ascend, the ropes straining but holding steady. Mud and water dripped from the case, splattering into the hole as it was pulled up, and that left the bones scattered and partially buried.
I took out my phone and began snapping photos of what I could. The bones weren’t handily laid out in a recognizable pattern that suggested an animal or person. They were a chaotic jumble half-hidden in the shifting mud. The rain had made everything more complicated, the ground unstable and treacherous.
“We need to get out of here,” Connor said, his voice cutting through the steady slam of heavier rain. “This mud will shift more if we’re not careful.”
“One more evidence bag,” I insisted, reaching for the last one, “for the bones.”
Connor hesitated for a second, then nodded. Together, we crouched down, collecting whatever bones we could find, some barely visible in the muck. We worked quickly, our movements in sync as we gathered as much of the mud-covered evidence we could. With the bag filled, I tied it off and looked at Connor. “All right, let’s get out of here.”
Connor nodded, and we made our way back to therope. Wyatt took up the evidence bag, and Connor gestured for me to go first. He grabbed me around the waist, and I shook him off and then heard him curse.
“I’m just giving you a hand,” he muttered, and then placed his hands on my ass, shoving up so I wasn’t that far from the top, grabbing Wyatt and Micah’s outstretched hands and scrambling out. I turned round to help Connor as he pulled himself up and out, emerging from the hole covered in mud and grime.
“We need to get these evidence bags to the lab in Collier Springs—call in the ME,” I instructed Wyatt, my voice steady despite the lingering tension. “You need to stay with this here until…” I stopped when the ground moved, and the sides of the hole collapsed, exposing rock, shaking where we stood but not coming any closer.
“Bedrock,” Doctor Reese observed. “Should be stable now.”
If we wanted to find more bones, we’d have to excavate, but I couldn’t leave Wyatt up here guarding whatever was buried under ten feet of mud and slurry. It was at moments like this I hated the fact we were a small department, and I had no one spare.
One of the engineers said, “We’ll cordon the areas off.”
Micah nodded. “I’ll assist.”
I turned to face Connor. Despite me arresting him, we’d managed to work together, and for a brief moment, the anger and frustration faded, replaced by something else I couldn’t name. Was it maybe a grudging respect?
“Thanks for the assist,” I said.
“I’m happy to help,” Connor shrugged, a faint smiletugging at the corner of his mouth. Then he held out his hands. “Am I still arrested?”
I could sense Wyatt watching me. “Warned,” I said, tiredly. “Last chance, Connor.”
He nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Understood.”
