Читать книгу Forbidden Ground - Карен Харпер - Страница 12

6

Grant pulled Kate away from Paul’s body. He knew his friend must be dead. His skull was crushed under the top part of the tree trunk he’d been carving. It looked as if it had tipped over on him. At least the heavy piece of wood hid what must be horrible injuries.

The scene in the dark hollow of the Adena mound flashed in his mind—smashed skulls.

Still, Grant felt Paul’s cold wrist for a pulse. “He’s gone. I want to lift that weight off him, but he’s gone,” he repeated. “My cell phone has never worked up here. We have to get to a spot where we can call for help. But go ahead—try yours.”

He watched Kate fumble for her phone in her purse, try to call out on it.

“Mine won’t connect, either. It just says ‘searching.’”

“It must have been a freak accident...except for the ransacked house.”

“Just in case of foul play, we can’t touch more things here. Grant, I can go for help. I’ll drive your truck down to where I can get reception, call Jace Miller.”

“Yes, good. Can you drive a truck?”

“If I can drive a stick shift on the wrong side of the road in England, I’ll figure it out. I’ll go out the back door where we came in.”

Grant handed her his keys. His hand was shaking so hard, the keys jingled. “Be careful.”

“Keep a good eye out here in case someone’s still lurking. We didn’t look everywhere in the house or around the grounds.”

“I’ll follow you out until you’re in the truck.”

They retraced their steps and rushed outside, just as a vehicle pulled in.

“It’s Nadine,” Grant said. His heart pounded even harder. “We can’t let her see him like that.”

“I heard you two were coming,” Nadine called to them as she got out. “I’ve been at my sister’s place—stayed there overnight after a doctor’s appointment in Chillicothe yesterd— What? What is it?”

Grant put his hands on her shoulders. “When we got here no one answered, so—”

“Did he forget you were coming? His truck’s here.”

“Nadine, there’s been an accident. His carving wheel with a trunk on it fell over.”

“Is he all right?” she cried, her voice shrill.

“No, and things are messed up in your house. Kate was just ready to drive down toward town to call Deputy Miller because your phone cord is cut inside and our cells don’t work up here. Nadine, he’s gone—dead.”

“Oh, dear God! He can’t be! Let me see him. Here, my cell works, but most don’t up here.”

She thrust her purse at Kate, then pushed Grant’s hands away to lunge toward the house. Grant shot Kate a panicked look and ran after Nadine. He was afraid he’d handled this wrong. But he—and Paul—had handled other things wrong, too.

* * *

An hour later, Kate and Grant sat on the front steps. He had his arm around her waist; she leaned gratefully against him, holding his other hand, which was propped on her knee. Through a front window, they could still hear Nadine sobbing.

Kate saw Grant had tears in his eyes. They were both trembling—he, of course, from losing his good friend in that terrible way, she because the carving that had crushed Paul had an Adena artifact on it, one of the two she’d planned to ask him to carve for her. Pure chance, of course, and yet that shook her to her core. It felt like a curse or a warning to her, and she knew better than to upset Grant more by mentioning it.

Soon after Kate had called 911, people had crowded the house. Nadine was so hysterical that Grant had called Pastor Snell. He and his wife, Jeanie, were with Nadine, and her sister was on the way. The paramedics had been standing around since the county coroner had declared Paul deceased and told them not to touch the body in case there had been foul play. And Jace Miller, who had arrived immediately, still looked shell-shocked. He’d asked the medics to stay in case Nadine needed them. Since she’d insisted she had nothing to do with the ransacking of the place, Deputy Miller had put up yellow police tape around the entire house.

“I suppose,” Kate told Grant, “the idea that someone might have robbed the place means it could have been staged to look like an accident when it was really murder. You know, like Paul recognized them, so they had to get rid of him. But since the Ketterings weren’t rich, what could someone have been looking for? Drugs? Guns?”

That thought seemed to really upset Grant. Frowning, he shrugged and shook his head. “Around here, folks have guns of their own and can get drugs easily—sad to say. I wish Gabe was here. Maybe Jace should call in the BCI. Vic Reingold was just here, but he’s gone.”

“Could Paul have owed someone money, and they came looking to collect?”

“Let’s leave that up to the professionals, okay?”

“I’m just thinking aloud. Professional jealousy over his art, which turned into an argument?”

“Kate,” he said, turning her to face him. “Do you have to dissect everything? Let it go. I said, leave it to the experts.”

“I’m trained to ask the what-if questions. And don’t you wonder what happened to your friend, what someone was looking for?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

She almost mentioned that she’d heard Paul and Todd arguing yesterday, but Grant didn’t want to hear any more speculation. Besides, she had no doubt that Todd would have an alibi from being at the mill. Grant was right. This wasn’t some Celtic burial excavation where she could theorize which corpses were honored shamans and which were sacrifices.

Jace Miller came around the corner of the house and walked straight toward them. He stopped, put one foot on the bottom step and leaned his crossed arms on his raised knee. Though no one stood nearby, he kept his voice low.

“Two possibilities until we get the forensic specialists here. One, Paul went off the deep end. Nadine admits they’re in debt, he’s been shook over her medical diagnosis and the house could be foreclosed. So, it’s possible he did the damage inside himself. That could make the tipping of that carving pedestal of his an accident or—well, suicide.”

Grant shook his head. His grip on Kate’s hand and wrist tightened. His voice was shaky. “What about he’d claim a robbery to get insurance money, then the trunk just fell over on him?”

“Nadine says they haven’t kept up on insurance payments, not even for good medical coverage, which she needs since she’s been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Had Paul told you that, Grant?”

“Yeah. He did. Jace, I don’t think he’d kill himself.”

“I’d go with accident—even murder before that. Nadine insists all three of the carving wheels were stable. From the angle it crushed his skull, either he pulled it down on top of himself or was lying on the floor when someone else pushed it.”

“I can’t fathom anyone would murder Paul,” Grant said.

“Considering any possibility in a situation like this is standard police procedure. I’m going to have to ask you two, since you’re the closest ones we have to eyewitnesses, to give me separate statements on what you observed in the house and when you found him. I’d like to talk to you first, Kate, since you spotted him on the floor before Grant did.”

Grant nodded. “We understand. Anything to help. I’ve lost a good friend, and we’ve lost a talented artist.”

Kate surprised herself by clinging to Grant’s hand as they stood. Then she let go and followed Deputy Miller around the side of the house where he indicated they could talk in the front seat of his squad car.

* * *

After she’d spent a half hour with Deputy Miller, Kate waited for Grant to be interviewed. Jace Miller seemed understandably nervous to her, but he’d done a thorough job of taking her statement. Remembering Grant’s warnings about not theorizing, she’d tried to stick to the facts.

But now, sitting in Grant’s truck, waiting for him, Kate began to tremble. If Paul had been murdered, he wasn’t the first victim she’d seen, she tried to tell herself. She’d studied deaths, even of murder and sacrificial victims, and their surroundings the way Deputy Miller and the experts would have to here.

But the victims she’d seen were long-dead, dusty skeletons in ancient graves, put to death and buried with their deceased masters to honor and serve them. Discovering Paul that way made her think how horrible it must have been for the Celt and Adena slaves or companions of the dead to have their skulls smashed so they could accompany their betters to the afterlife.

The minute she and Grant drove down the mountain to the level of the town, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Carson was calling. She didn’t answer the call but saw that he’d phoned her three other times while she’d been out of reach over the past four hours. Well, when she told him what had happened, he’d have to understand.

“Important?” Grant asked.

“Carson Cantrell. You know—my university mentor and colleague. I’ll call him back later. Grant, should we talk more about Paul? To debrief or just clear the air? This on top of the loss of your tree...”

“This is worse than the tree.”

“Of course it is. I’m sure you want to break it to Todd and Brad.”

“Don’t want to but have to. Word will get around fast, even if Paul lived out—up—a ways.”

“I suppose everyone will say he died doing what he loved. I had a colleague who loved to ski and was killed in an avalanche, but I guess there is a bit of comfort in looking at it that way. Paul’s work is amazing—unique and so imaginative. It’s a great loss, and I was so excited to have him do a work to link the Celts and Adena. Did you notice the carving that...that hurt him had the well-known Adena pipe figure on it? It’s eerie—almost as if he knew that’s what I planned to commission from him, with the Beastmaster.”

She saw Grant’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Maybe she was wrong to think it would help him to talk about Paul.

He cleared his throat. “Your appreciation of his work pleased him. He was really stubborn about sticking to his art, even when Nadine thought he should take another job—any job—to tide them over or that he should go more commercial. Kate, I was hoping we could have dinner tonight, but I’d better tell our old buddies myself.”

He took her home and insisted on walking her to the door and then going in.

“Just to be sure everything’s normal in here,” he said. He looked around the first floor to convince himself she was safe. “Not much left inside here, is there?” he asked.

“Tess said Grace sold a lot of things after they were done renting it and moved to the Hear Ye community. I guess they pretty much hold things in common there. And Tess took a few things for their new place. I’m only passing through, so I can make do. She did leave me a stocked fridge. Can I get you anything?”

He shook his head but reached for her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m grateful you were with me today,” he said, his warm breath moving the tendrils of hair along her forehead. “But we can’t play detective ourselves, even though I get it that you’re used to considering all angles and proving theories. Promise?”

“I know to leave things up to the experts, and this is not my field.”

She felt him relax a bit, even though she hadn’t really promised what he’d asked. Did he think she’d get hurt by trying to puzzle things through?

“Dinner tomorrow night?” he asked. “To make up for tonight?”

She leaned back a bit to look up into his eyes; that move tilted her hips tighter against his. “Don’t worry about me. Yes, I’d love that. But you just take care of yourself.”

“I might need some help with that.”

“Good. Call me tomorrow. I’ll be out and about mapping virgin mound sites, but—”

“Including mine?”

“If you let me.”

“Just noting their location and size?”

“For starters, yes.”

“Okay. I’ll call you about that later, and we can do it together.”

Their gazes met and held. His arms around her tightened. He tilted his head and kissed her warmly, but lightly, quickly. She sensed he was holding back for some reason. He was distracted and must figure this wasn’t the time or place, darn him.

He hugged her again and was out the door. It wasn’t two minutes later her phone sounded—she had it programmed to play “Rule, Britannia!”—and she saw it was Carson again. Strange, but she’d actually hoped it was Grant, which was ridiculous since he’d just left.

“Carson, yes, I’m here.”

“Where in hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. No weddings today to make you turn off your cell, right?”

“You won’t believe what happened. I went with Grant Mason to a local artist’s house to commission a carving and we found the man dead—with his skull crushed. And by his own carving—he uses tree trunks—which had the Adena pipe figure on it, like he was psychic that was what I’d order—that and a Beastmaster mask.”

“What? Slow down. Unbelievable! A freak accident?”

“His place had been ransacked when his wife was away. She has an alibi—more or less—so it must have been thieves.”

“I can’t believe you got yourself into that. Are you all right? Is it safe for you to be staying there alone at your sister’s place, with lunatics like that loose?”

“I’m not afraid to be out here.”

“Anyone you could stay with?”

“Carson, I haven’t lived here for years and I was young when I left, but I’ll be fine. It might have been a big happy time for my father to be back here seeing old friends, but not me, so I don’t have anywhere else to stay.”

“So how did that go—with your father?”

“Not that well—for me, anyway. I remember what he was like, though Tess and Char really don’t.”

“That’s my Kate. A mind like a steel trap.”

“But I’m sorry I didn’t ask about how your talk went. Things got so intense here—”

“Really? Have you convinced Grant Mason to let you excavate Mason Mound yet?”

“I’m working on it, but I can’t push. Besides, the murdered man was a good friend of his, and Grant recently had another personal setback.”

“That might make him more vulnerable.”

“You sound like you’re pushing me into his arms.”

“My darling, you’re the one who is desperate for links, so link away—within reason. I still think you and I could have a brilliant future. And proving the prehistoric Europe-America link could be our big break.”

They chatted about his talk at the Smithsonian. She realized it was so unlike him not to speak about himself first. But then, it wasn’t every day that a former research assistant and protégée of Dr. Carson Cantrell found a recently deceased corpse instead of an ancient one.