Birthright

room. Biggest bed you got in the quietest spot. Get me Rosie,” she said into the phone. “And Nick Long if he’s available.” She dug out a credit card, set it on the counter. “They can bunk at the motel just outside of town. I’m checking in now.”
    “What motel?”
    “Hell, I don’t know. What’s this place called?” Callie asked the desk clerk.
    “The Hummingbird Inn.”
    “No kidding? Cute. Hummingbird Inn, on Maryland Route Thirty-four. Get me hands, eyes and backs, Leo. I’m going to start shovel tests in the morning. I’ll call you back.”
    She disconnected, shoved the phone in her pocket. “You got room service?” she asked the clerk.
    The woman looked like an aged little doll and smelled strongly of lavender sachet. “No, honey. But our restaurant’s open from six A . M . to ten P . M . every day of the week. Best breakfast you’ll get anywhere outside your own mama’s kitchen.”
    “If you knew my mother,” Callie said with a chuckle, “you’d know that’s not saying much. You think there’s a waitress or a busboy who’d like to earn an extra ten bybringing a burger and fries, a Diet Pepsi to my room? Well done on the burger. I’ve got some work that can’t wait.”
    “My granddaughter could use ten dollars. I’ll take care of it.” She took the ten-dollar bill and handed Callie a key attached to a huge red plastic tag. “I put you ’round back, room six-oh-three. Got a queen bed and it’s quiet enough. Probably take about half an hour for that hamburger.”
    “Appreciate it.”
    “Miss . . . ah . . .” The woman squinted at the scrawled signature on the check-in card. “Dunbock.”
    “Dunbrook.”
    “Dunbrook. You a musician?”
    “No. I dig in the dirt for a living. I play this”—she jiggled the large black case—“to relax. Tell your granddaughter not to forget the ketchup.”
    A t four o’clock, dressed in clean olive-green pants and a khaki-colored camp shirt, her long hair freshly shampooed and drawn back in a smooth tail, Callie once again pulled to the shoulder of the site.
    She’d worked on her notes, had e-mailed a copy of them to Leo. On her way back, she’d dropped by the post office to express-mail him her undeveloped film.
    She slipped on little silver earrings with a Celtic design and had spent ten very intense minutes on her makeup.
    The camera crew was already setting up for the remote. Callie noted Lana Campbell was there as well, clutching the hand of a towheaded boy who had a scab on one knee, dirt on his chin and the kind of cherubic face that spelled trouble.
    Dolan, in his signature blue shirt and red suspenders, stood directly beside his business sign and was already talking to a woman Callie pegged as the reporter.
    She assumed he was Ronald Dolan because he didn’t look happy.
    The minute he spotted Callie, he broke off and marched toward her.
    “You Dunbrook?”
    “Dr. Callie Dunbrook.” She gave him a full-power smile. Callie had known some men to dissolve into a panting puddle when she used full power. Dolan appeared to be immune.
    “What the hell’s going on here?” He jabbed a finger at her chest, but fortunately for him didn’t make contact.
    “Local TV asked for an interview. I always try to cooperate. Mr. Dolan”—still smiling, she touched his arm as if they were compatriots—“you’re a very lucky man. The archaeological and anthropological communities are never going to forget your name. They’ll be teaching classes about your site for generations. I have a copy of my preliminary report here.”
    She held out a folder. “I’ll be happy to explain anything you don’t understand. I realize some of it’s pretty technical. Has a representative of the National History Museum at the Smithsonian contacted you yet?”
    “What?” He stared at the report as if she were handing him a live snake. “What?”
    “I just want to shake your hand.” She took his, pumped. “And thank you for your part in this incredible discovery.”
    “Now, you listen here—”
    “I’d love to take you, your wife and family out to dinner at the first opportunity.” She kept the smile in place, even boosted it with a couple of flutters of her lashes, while she steamrolled him. “But I’m afraid I’m going to be very busy for the next several weeks. Will you excuse me? I want to get this part over with.”
    She pressed a hand to her heart. “Talking on camera always makes me a little nervous.” She tied up the