Page 11 of Ground Truth

Now the matter was out of his hands.

The decision had been made by someone else.

Which meant he could have the DNA tested easily and without a court order or having any sort of conversation with Baker’s living relatives. Assuming she had any. Which seemed unlikely.

And Flint was as conflicted about the issue now as he had been before Scarlett’s call.

“They’re moving the cemetery to put a road through there. It’s a pauper’s cemetery. They’ve notified all the families they can find. Bodies will be relocated at county expense if the families have another plot somewhere. Otherwise, the bodies will be cremated.” Scarlett paused for a breath. “Meaning, if you want to claim Marilyn Baker’s body, you need to do it now.”

Flint slid off the lounger and padded around the deck barefoot while Scarlett waited for his answer.

Marilyn Baker had been dead almost as long as Flint had been alive. From what Bette Maxwell said, Baker was probably his mother. But she might not be.

And who was Flint’s father?

Flint had lived his entire life without knowing the answers to these questions. Did he want to know now?

When Bette Maxwell died, Flint had buried himself in work.

He’d found Baker’s grave and decided to leave her there until a compelling reason to exhume the body and test her DNA arose.

That compelling reason had never materialized.

Until now.

He could take possession of the body. Bury her again. Nothing required him to test her DNA. He could continue to wait.

But why? Was he just a coward?

If Marilyn Baker was his mother, then the obvious question was his father’s identity. Who was his father? Did he want to know?

Flint had never cared about his origins.

He lived alone and in the moment. Always had. He liked it that way. He’d also grown accustomed to his independence.

If he dug up a passel of relatives, he’d be connected to others in a way he’d never planned and never wanted.

Katie Scarlett and Maddy had been like family to him. Along with Bette Maxwell, he supposed. They were all the family he needed. All he wanted, too.

So now what?

“Flint? Are you there?” Scarlett was asking across the miles. “What do you want me to do? They’re pausing the exhumation until tomorrow so you can weigh in. Should I let it go? Do you even have a plot where they could rebury her? Or a crypt?”

He swiped a palm over his face and inhaled deeply. “Ask them to hold up until I get there. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll ask.”

“And Scarlett?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for this. I don’t know what I want to do about it all. But I appreciate your letting me know so I can decide,” he said quietly.

“You owe me, Flint. Two weeks of dog sitting coming your way,” Scarlett said sternly, but he heard the smile in her voice. “And you can pay up right after you get home. Maddy and I are going to Disney World. So unless you want to come along…”

“Sounds just great,” he grumbled before he hung up. He’d never owned a dog in his life. Surely he was too old to start now.

What the hell did a dog sitter do, anyway?

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