Page 37 of Field Rules

ChapterTwelve

Rick was in the camp kitchen, making up a batch of hard-boiled eggs. Since his team was on breakfast duty tomorrow, he wanted to lighten their load by preparing a few things ahead of time. When Stuart popped in and suggested going for drinks after dinner, he agreed without hesitation. A couple of beers might ease the pressure building up inside of him.

For the past three nights, he’d been mulling over his late-night chat with his sister. When they’d talked, he’d dismissed their father’s health scare as if it wasn’t worth worrying about. But what if it was serious? Did Rick want to risk losing him before they had a chance to reconcile?

He’d toyed with the idea of going home before. Despite his painful estrangement from his dad, he missed his friends and the rest of his family. But each time he was on the verge of returning, he found another job to sustain him for the next few months. Each gig gave him a reason to keep moving forward rather than go home and deal with the past.

Maybe it was time he stopped running. If he went back to California, he could try convincing his dad—yet again—that his passion for archaeology was as worthy as a career in law. Just because Rick wasn’t following in his old man’s footsteps didn’t mean he was a failure or a slacker.

Before Rick could book his ticket back, he needed a game plan. He couldn’t wing it and hope the job opportunities would magically appear.

His best bet was to seek out Dr. Roth and ask for his help, but the professor didn’t spend much time at camp. Since he didn’t join the students on the survey, he usually showed up around two, once the lab work was underway. He’d talk to each team, examine their finds, and confer with Grant. By four thirty, he headed back to the field house to work on his own research until dinner. Though the house was only a short walk from camp, it felt distinctly off-limits, as though it were the professor’s private sanctuary.

After setting the hard-boiled eggs in the fridge, Rick tracked down the professor in Dusty’s illustration studio. Dr. Roth pulled a large bin out of storage, filled with bagged and labeled finds.

“If you want to look through these and see if there’s anything worth illustrating, have a go,” he said to her. “Once you’re done, the museum will take them off our hands.”

“Will do. Thanks.” Dusty fixed her gaze on Rick. “What’s up?”

“I was hoping to talk to Dr. Roth.” He caught the professor’s eye. “Unless you’re busy here?”

“I’m good. As a matter of fact, I wanted to have a chat with you. Let’s head outside.”

His serious tone set Rick’s nerves on edge. “Sure. See you later, Dusty.”

He followed Dr. Roth out of the classroom until they were standing beneath the largest olive tree on the grounds, which stood adjacent to the kitchen. He spoke calmly, trying to conceal the unease growing inside of him. “Is everything all right?”

Dr. Roth uncapped his stainless-steel water bottle and took a drink. He had a large collection of them, all with different logos. Today’s was bright orange with the words “Cyprus Rocks” written in a giant font. He smiled as he caught Rick staring at it. “A gift from one of my students last year. A bit garish, but it does the job.” He screwed the lid back on and waited a beat before speaking. “Grant came to me earlier. He said you’re having problems with your survey team.”

Less than a week in and Grant had the knives out already? Rick drew in a slow, steady breath, willing himself to answer calmly. “I wasn’t aware of any problems.”

“He told me your team has been consistently late returning to camp. One of the students complained to him about it.”

Brynn. Who else could it be? Marisol hadn’t joined the survey yet, and TJ was happy as long as he had an audience for his stories. “Sorry, but other than the first day, our team hasn’t lagged that far behind the others. I’m trying to make sure we’re as thorough as possible.”

“I understand, but Grant’s concerned about sticking to the schedule.”

No, he was trying to get Rick in trouble. If anyone else’s team had struggled to keep up, Grant would have let it go without reporting the issue.

“Is Olivia doing all right?” Dr. Roth asked. “I know she’s out of her element. I hope I didn’t make the wrong decision, choosing her to replace Frida.”

“She’s fine.” Even though she was the main cause of the delay, Rick refused to throw her under the bus. “But I can talk to my team tomorrow if that would help.”

“Good. Is there anything else?”

Asking for a favor now wasn’t a good look, but Rick plowed on ahead. “I recently learned my father could be dealing with a serious medical issue. I’ve been traveling for years but might be needed at home this fall.”

A white lie, but easier than explaining his complicated relationship with his dad. Or elaborating on the real reason he’d stayed away for four years.

Dr. Roth’s expression softened. “I’m sorry to hear that. What can I do to help?”

“After field school ends, I was thinking of going back to California and looking for work there. A job in cultural resource management would be ideal. You once mentioned having a colleague who runs a rescue archaeology company. Is there any way you could put in a good word for me?”

Rick clammed up when a couple of students walked by—Brynn and her friend Courtney, the two most high-maintenance members of the field school.

Dr. Roth turned on the charm, beaming at them. “How are you ladies this afternoon?”

“Hot,” Brynn muttered. “It’s always hot.”

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