Page 18 of Obsession

When he arrived back at Mount Locust, it was nearly three thirty. The pile of loamy soil deposited beside the hole had grown and the backhoe had been moved a few yards from the site. Someone had erected a tent over the pit, where two NPS maintenance men were shoveling dirt out. A familiar scent tickled his nose. Sassafras. There were several of the trees nearby, and they must have cut into a root. Emma had shed her jacket in the sixty-degree weather and leaned over a contraption made from PVC pipe.

With her unaware of his presence, he took the opportunity to observe her. Her petite frame filled out the ranger uniform very nicely. She’d put her coppery curls up in a ponytail and looked like a teenager. Unexpectedly she looked up and caught him admiring her.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing to the PVC pipe.

She straightened up, stretching her back. “It’s a shaker screen for sifting dirt. I invested in it after I took archeology classes and had to lug a wooden one to the different sites. Plus, it’s perfect for my height—I don’t have to bend over as far. Still backbreaking, though.” Emma turned to the men. “Hold up a second and let me check the depth.”

She stuck a yardstick in the hole. The depth was thirty-two inches, and she nodded to them. “Let’s get the next six inches, and after that you’re free to leave. I’ll excavate the rest.”

“I don’t remember you taking archeology,” Sam said.

Her face flushed, and he didn’t think it was from the heat. “My last year. Took a forensic one, as well.”

Sam was impressed. He nodded at the mound of dirt. “You’ve been busy, but sifting it will take forever.”

“Can’t be helped.”

He nodded that he understood. “Is Nate back?”

“Yes, but I think he walked over to the inn, or maybe the visitor center.”

It would be dark in another two hours, and at the rate Emma was sifting, she would barely make a dent in the pile. Besides that, the investigation was in his backyard, and he needed to be a part of it. “How about if I help?”

“In those clothes?” She eyed him. “I know you said you wanted to help, but neither of us considered how dirty you would get. You’d never get the stains out or your shoes clean again. But I appreciate your offer.”

“I think I can fix that. Do you have a key for the maintenance building so I can change?”

“You have work clothes?” she asked.

“Yep.” Sam always carried sneakers and a pair of jeans and a T-shirt in his SUV in case he wanted to change out of his uniform.

She fished a ring of keys from her pocket and handed it to him. “It’s the skinny one.”

“Thanks! Be right back.”

He jogged the quarter mile to his SUV, grabbed his clothes, and unlocked the maintenance building. There was an office on either end of the building with a kitchen and bathroom in the middle. The office to his left evidently belonged to the maintenance supervisor—while it was neat, it had none of Emma’s personality in it. A quick look at the other office confirmed his hunch—the oak desk had a photo of Emma with her parents, a cheery flower arrangement sat on the bookcase, and several photos of Mount Locust adorned the walls.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and changed intothe jeans and short-sleeved shirt, ruefully realizing a shirt with longer sleeves would have been warmer than the close-fitting T-shirt that hugged his abs. It would have to do since it was the only extra shirt he had.

His heart quickened as he remembered the brief flash of appreciation in Emma’s eyes when he offered to help.Don’t go there.She would only break his heart again.

10

What do you want me to do?” Sam asked.

Heat washed over Emma, and it had nothing to do with the temperature. “Um, uh, I don’t think there’s room for you in the pit, so ... you want to sift for a while?” She pulled her gaze from his sculpted pecs and pointed to another shaker screen a few yards away. “I can show you how.”

While the two maintenance men continued with their excavation of the pit, Emma unfolded the screen, positioned it near hers, and shoveled dirt in it. “Just rock it back and forth, like I’m doing. Then use your hand to knock what’s left through the holes.” Reaching in her backpack, she pulled out an extra pair of gloves. “These will help protect your hands.”

They worked in silence as Sam got the hang of rocking the screen back and forth. “What do you do when the soil is wet?” he asked.

“Pour water through it,” she said with a grin. “Usually by hooking up a water hose. It’s really messy, though.” He glanced at the dirt on his gloves and shoes and raised an eyebrow. She laughed. “Yep, messier than that.”

“If you say so.” Sam rocked the tray again, and a clump of dirt broke apart, revealing something black embedded in the clod.

“Hold on,” she said, picking it up. “Oh, wow!”

“What is it?”

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