Birthright

look first-degree. Are you hurt anywhere else?”
    “No.” He’d told her to go in the trailer, he remembered. He’d told her to go inside while he investigated the light in the woods.
    “You didn’t listen to me. So damn irritating.”
    “What?” Concerned, she wound the bandage and studied his eyes for signs of shock. “Are you cold? Jake, are you cold?”
    “I’m not cold. Maybe a little shocky. You didn’t go in the trailer like I told you to. If you had—”
    “I didn’t.” She fought back a shudder. She could hear sirens now. “But you’re going to the hospital like I’m telling you to.” She tied off the bandage, sat back on her heels. “I didn’t even think of the propane tanks on the trailer. Good thing you did.”
    “Yeah.” He put his good arm around her, and they helped each other to their feet. “Looks like it’s our lucky night.” He let out a huge sigh. “Digger’s going to be pissed.”
    H e wouldn’t go in the ambulance, wouldn’t go anywhere until he knew the damage and how much could be salvaged. Any records and specimens that had been stored in the trailer until they could be transported were gone. Callie’s laptop was a mangled mass of plastic and fried chips.
    The computer left in the trailer for team use was toast. Hours of painstaking work destroyed in a heartbeat.
    Debris was scattered over acres of field, over the carefully plotted areas. He saw a charred piece of aluminum speared into a spoil mound like a lance.
    Firefighters, cops, emergency workers trampled over the site. It would take days, perhaps weeks to repair the damage, to calculate the loss. To start again.
    He stood beside Callie listening to her relate, as he had already done, the events that led up to the explosion.
    “Whoever was in the woods was a diversion.” The anger was beginning to sharpen her voice now, replacing the shaky shock. “He drew us away so someone else could fire the trailer.”
    Hewitt studied the smoldering heap, measured the distance to the woods. “But you didn’t see anybody?”
    “No, we didn’t see anybody. We were a hundred feet away, in the trees. We’d just started back when we heard the first explosion.”
    “The propane tanks.”
    “The first one. It sounded like a damn cannon, and then the hero here tackled me. Then the second one blew.”
    “You didn’t see or hear a vehicle?”
    “I heard my ears ringing,” she snapped. “Somebody blew that first tank, and it wasn’t some Neolithic ghost with a grudge.”
    “I’m not arguing that point, Dr. Dunbrook. Somebody blew up that trailer, and they had to get here, get away from here. Most likely they did that in a vehicle.”
    She let out a breath. “You’re right. Sorry. No, I didn’t hear anything after the explosion. Earlier, I heard cars go by, now and then, or caught the sound of one in the distance. But whoever was in the woods was heading backtoward the road. Probably had his ride parked close by.”
    “I’m thinking so,” Hewitt agreed. “I don’t believe in curses, Dr. Dunbrook, but I believe in trouble. And that you’ve got.”
    “It’s connected, to everything I told you about Carlyle, the Cullens. It’s just a way to scare me off this site, away from Woodsboro, away from the answers.”
    His gaze stayed calm on her face. It was still smeared with soot and smoke. “Could be,” was all he said.
    “Sheriff.” One of the deputies trotted up. “You better come see this.”
    They followed Hewitt toward the pond, to the section where Callie had worked for more than eight hours that day. The remains she’d excavated were coated with soot and dirt now, but intact.
    Lying with them in the ruler-straight square was a department-store mannequin dressed in olive drab chinos and shirt. The blond hair of the wig was stuffed messily under a cloth hat.
    Around its neck hung a hand-lettered sign that read R.I.P.
    Callie balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Those are my clothes. That’s my goddamn hat. The son of a bitch has been in the house. The son of a bitch has been through my things.”

Twenty-four
    I t wouldn’t have been difficult to get into the house, Jake thought, yet again. He’d been through and around the house with the police the night before. And he’d been through and around it twice himself since dawn.
    There were four doors, and any one of them could have been left unlocked inadvertently. There were twenty-eight windows, including those in his office, any one