One Grave Too Many

“Possibly.”

“I’m his father, Declan Kavanagh. Have you found my son?”

“I don’t know for sure. Can I tell you what I’ve found?”

Diane explained only that skeletal remains were found in a remote area of a farm and that she had analyzed them. She told him that analysis of the remains suggested that the bones belonged to a young male, six foot two, who grew up in a cool climate and was basically a vegetarian, but ate fish. She wondered if perhaps he had a childhood allergy to beef. He’d had osteitis pubis, possibly from the side-to-side movement of playing hockey, and he should have had considerable groin pain from it at one time. He had olecranon bursitis that should have given him elbow pain, and a broken left tibia-shin. There was a possible archaeology connection. He disappeared probably between March and June of 1998-about the time of spring break for many schools. The sheriff of the county where the remains were located recently sent out queries across the country. She had plugged key words into an Internet search engine and came up with the Web page.

Diane had laid out all the findings briefly and clearly, as if she were giving a report. When she finished she heard a low groan on the other end that turned into a deep wail. She understood. She had taken away all his hope. She wanted to cry with him.

When he came back on the line, his voice was calm and emotionless. “You have described my son completely. Tell me where you are. I have X rays, dental records.”

Diane didn’t tell him the skull was missing. She thought it would sound too gruesome over the phone. She gave him her address.

“How did he die?” he asked.

“I haven’t been able to establish the cause of death. The severe injury to the shoulder could be the cause, but there is no way to tell. Nor can I say for certain the manner of death.”

“But it looks like murder to me. Is the sheriff looking for the killer?”

“First the remains had to be identified. We hope that will lead to the story of what happened, and that will lead to the killer, if it was murder.”

“You seem to be skirting around the issues.”

“No. I’m simply not going beyond what I know.”

“Yes. I’m sorry. You’ve obviously gone to great lengths to find out where the remains of my son belong, and I thank you. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can make arrangements.”

Diane gave him the name of the sheriff and his phone number.

Linc came in and looked at her chart. “You’re up and working. I thought I was a workaholic. How are you feeling?”

“Much better. I slept for a long time.”

“Good. Get back into bed and let me see if there’s any swelling. Your chart looks good. Any pain?”

“No. Just soreness.”

“I think you’ll have that a while.”

Diane got back into bed, and Linc felt for any swelling of her organs.

“So far, so good.” He listened to her heart and her lungs. “You’re doing better than I thought, with all the coming and going you’ve been doing.”

“How’s Frank?”

“He’s doing well. I’m pleased. Looks like the two of you will pull through.”

“I suppose you and Henry are anxious to go home.”

Frank laughed from the doorway. “Half the nurses think he’s a new doctor here.” Frank came in and took a seat beside Diane’s bed. “How’s she doing?”

“I think you can stop worrying, at least about this current episode.”

“I’ve put you through more than you bargained for,” Diane told Linc.

“It’s been good for me. I’ve enjoyed visiting with Frank. I’ve gotten to spend some time with Kevin. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“You look good,” Diane told Frank. “Your color’s back.” She gave his cheek a gentle pinch. “You growing a beard, or going for the rugged look?”

“I’m feeling better every day. I think they’ll let me go home in a few days.”

Diane looked up at Linc. “Can I go home?”

“You think one night’s rest does the trick? You can go home if you only go home and not to the museum. Will you do that?” Diane stared at him, and he shook his head. “You know, I can see it in your eyes. You have no intention of staying home.”

“I’ve identified him,” she said.

“Who?” Linc hesitated a moment. “The remains? You know who he is?” He pulled up a chair. “How? When?”

“Just now.”

“You figured it out from your hospital bed?” Frank grasped her hand and held it tight. It felt good that his grip was strong again.

“Actually, from that chair over there. I searched the Internet for missing persons.”

“Good idea. What made you think of that?” said Linc.

“Lying here with nothing to do but think. I have to look at the X rays, but he fits everything-he’s a hockey player, had all the symptoms we saw in the bones. He even dabbled in archaeology.”

“I don’t remember that,” said Linc. “How did that show up in his bones?”

Diane told him about the arrowhead with a site number on it. “I called the father and he’s flying down from Washington State with X rays. He’s coming to the museum. Can I go, huh, can I?”

“You’re really impossible. You think you can stay out of trouble?”

“Sure. We’re sliding home now. If we can solve this, things can get back to what passes for normal.”

“All right. But listen to me. No running, jumping, lifting, getting into fights, no late hours. I want you in bed, asleep, early at night and set up regular appointments with your doctor for a few weeks. We have to watch for any internal bleeding.”

“I can do all that.”

“I’ll see to your release. Don’t make me regret it.” Linc left the room, and Diane turned her attention to Frank.

“I was thinking, when you’re ready to go home, why don’t you stay at my place a few days? We can take it easy together.”

“Or you can stay at my house. I’m not sure I want to stay across from the Odells.”

“Linc told you about them?”

Frank laughed and held his chest. “God, it hurts to laugh. Yes. Strange people. Ben Florian, my partner, called. He apologized up and down for sending the information to the Rosewood police.”

“It’s all right now. I really think we’ve found the guy, and I think he’ll lead us to the murderer of your friends.”

Diane drove her car and parked in front of the museum. It looked like home. She was getting to love it more every day. Now that the problems with the Graysons were over, there’d be only the normal problems of museum life. Not that they couldn’t be difficult, but it wasn’t like dealing with snakes in the grass. Snakes. She wished she hadn’t thought of snakes.

Mike was there changing a flat tire on his SUV. He had the flat off and was about to put on the spare.

“Looks like I picked up a nail somewhere,” he said. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

“I’m doing good. Thanks for the information you gave me. It helped.” Diane looked at the brake disc exposed by the missing tire and rim. Her gaze shifted over his heavy SUV and back down at the disc. “That’s a heavy vehicle.”

“Yes. It is.”

“If the brake disc fell on you, it would do some damage, especially if you were on a hard surface.”

He looked up at her. “Is that a threat?”

Diane looked at his puzzled face and realized she was thinking out loud and he had no idea what was running