Page 71 of Long Gone

My stomach twisted. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Use the metal pole and I’ll use the crowbar. We’ll see if we can lift it up on the higher side.”

Thankfully for us, the perpetrators who had poured the concrete hadn’t made it very thick. We put all our weight onto our respective tools, and a large chunk broke off.

“We should stop,” I said as Malcolm dropped the prybar and lifted the chunk. There was a sound of tearing fabric, then he tossed it to the side as though it weighed nothing. A thick stench blew back at us, filling my nose with the odor of rotting flesh.

“I think we found Hugo Burton,” Malcolm said.

“We don’t know that for sure,” I said, burying my nose into the crook of my arm.

“There’s one way to find out.”

“We proved there’s a body under there. No matter whose body it is, they were likely put there for nefarious reasons. Which means we’re interfering with a crime scene.”

He turned back to me, picking his crowbar back up. “Is it a crime to pour concrete in a field?”

“It depends on why they poured it.”

“Come on, Harper,” he groaned. “If we had no knowledge of a possible crime, would you still think we were interfering with an investigation?”

“We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t suspect a crime. And in fact, we’re committing a crime by being here. When we turn this in—because we will have to turn this in,” I waved a hand at him, “you’ll be suspect number one.”

He shook his head. “You do what you want. I didn’t get this close just to give up.” Shoving the crowbar under the concrete, he started to pry up another piece.

I knew I should stop him, this was insanity, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Part of me argued that there was no way I could stop him, he was a hell of a lot bigger than me, but that wouldn’t have stopped me from trying. I wasn’t sure what to make of the part of me that wanted to see this through.

“What’s that tearing sound?” I asked, fighting the urge to gag from the stench.

“Looks like they covered the body with a thin cloth. Maybe a sheet. They might have used it to drag him over. It’s stuck to the concrete.” He pried up a piece that let out a cracking and ripping sound that wasn’t helping my gag reflex. “All I know is that there’s a body under there that’s covered in fabric.” He picked up another piece and tossed it with the other. This time he revealed a piece of fabric that was pinned on either side of the concrete.

“I think this is his back,” Malcolm said, already starting in on another piece. “It stands to reason. They would have dumped him in a two- to two-and-a-half-foot grave, and if he’s on his side, like it appears, his limbs would be lower in the ground. They take up less space. What I’ve exposed wasn’t covered in dirt. Just a piece of cloth, which means they didn’t toss in any dirt with him, just whatever they covered him with.”

He’d fully exposed the body’s side and upper thigh before moving around to the other side. It only took a few more pieces to reveal what looked like bones.

My stomach roiled.

I wasn’t a forensic anthropologist, and I didn’t have any experience with buried bodies, but there was no doubt in my mind those were human phalanges. Especially when I spotted the gold band around one.

“It’s him,” Malcolm said matter-of-factly, pulling an ink pen from his pocket and poking it next to the finger bones. He pulled up the ring, then held it up, leaning in close to examine it. “There’s an inscription: To my forever love, Hugo.” His gaze lifted and he gave me a dry look.

“You can’t touch that!” I protested. “It’s evidence.”

He dropped it back with the bones. “There it is, back where it belongs.”

“They’ll know it was moved.”

He shrugged like he didn’t give a shit. “I’m not stopping,” he said, his jaw set and determination filling his eyes. “We came here for answers, and we’re not leaving without them.”

Then he pried up another piece, this time revealing another piece of cloth.

“His arm,” Malcolm said, turning back to me. “You gonna help or just watch?”

He was already doing this and I was merely looking on in horror. But I was part of this, whether I fully approved of it or not, so I might as well help. More than that, I felt driven to. I’d been determined to find Hugo’s body, but now that I found him, it wasn’t enough. I needed to find out who killed him.

I should have been more disgusted with myself, but my morals had already sunk to low heights. What was one more rung descending into hell?

I didn’t answer, just silently picked up the shovel and moved to the other end where the head should have been and put my foot on the shaft. A piece of concrete broke off, and a fresh wave of decay hit me full in the face. Gagging, I pulled a pair of gloves out of my pocket, tugged them on, then bent to pick up the piece. Malcolm had made his look ridiculously light, but I nearly put out my back trying to lift it.

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