Birthright

anything.” Jittery, Frannie looked at face after face, never lighting on one for more than a finger snap. “They just asked a lot of questions. Like one of us made Rosie sick on purpose.”
    “We think somebody did.” At Callie’s statement, there was absolute silence. “We put a lot of people out of work,” she continued. “And some of those people are pretty steamed about it. They don’t understand what we’re doing here. More, they don’t give a shit. Somebody set a fire in Lana Campbell’s office. Why?” She waited a beat and, as Frannie had, watched faces. “Because she’s the Preservation Society’s lawyer and largely responsible for us being here. Somebody torched Digger’s trailer, blew the hell out of some of our equipment, some of our records.”
    “Bill’s dead,” Bob said quietly.
    “Maybe it was an accident, maybe it wasn’t.” Jake studied his beer and was aware of every movement, every breath around him. “Could be one of the people we’ve pissed off hurt him, hurt him more than they meant to. But that upped the odds. And it added to the disturb-the-graves-and-face-the-curse deal laymen like to spook each other with. Bad shit happens, they can start gossiping that the project’s cursed.”
    “Maybe it is.” Dory pressed her lips together. “I know how that sounds, but bad shit is happening. It keeps happening. Now Rosie . . .”
    “Spirits don’t dump barbiturates in jugs of iced tea.” Callie folded her arms. “People do. And that means we’re going to have to keep the dig clear of all outsiders. No more tours, no more outdoor classrooms, no more visitors past the fence line. We stick together. We take care of each other, watch out for each other. That’s what teams do.”
    “We’ve got important work to do,” Jake stated. “We’regoing to show these local assholes we won’t be run off. The project depends on every one of us. So . . .”
    Jake stretched a hand out over the table.
    Callie laid hers on his. One by one, others put their hands out until everyone was connected.
    Callie skimmed faces once more. And knew she held hands with a murderer.

Twenty-seven
    T he call from the front desk announcing the delivery of a package from Lana Campbell interrupted Doug as he was plotting out his approach. He didn’t know why Lana would send him a package, or why the hell a bellman couldn’t bring it up, but he pulled on a pair of shoes, grabbed his room key and went down to retrieve it.
    And there she was. Absolutely perfect, every gorgeous hair in place. He knew he was grinning like an idiot as he strode across the small lobby, lifted Lana right off her feet and caught that pretty mouth with his.
    “Some package.” He set her down, but he didn’t let go.
    “I hoped you’d like it.”
    “Where’s Ty?”
    She lifted her hands to his cheeks, and now she kissed him. “You say exactly the right things at the right times. He’s spending a couple of days with his grandparents in Baltimore. He’s over the moon about it. Why don’t we go up to your room? I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
    “Sure.” He looked down at her feet where she’d set her briefcase, a wheeled carry-on, her laptop case. She wascarrying a purse the size of Idaho. “All this? How long were you planning to stay?”
    “Now that’s not the right thing to say.” She sailed past him, pressed the Up button on the elevator.
    “How about if I say I’m really glad to see you?”
    “Better.”
    He hauled her bags inside, pushed the button for his floor. “But I also wonder what you’re doing here.”
    “Acceptable. First, I wanted Ty tucked away right now, and I felt Digger would do more good with Callie and Jake than with me. I also felt I might be able to give you a hand. You deserve a sidekick.”
    “I’d say I got top of the line, sidekick wise.”
    “Bet your ass.” She stepped out with him on his floor and walked down the hall beside him. “I could only clear my calendar for a couple of days. But I thought I’d be more useful here than there. So I’m here.”
    “So, it wasn’t because you were pining away for me and your life wasn’t worth living if you had to spend another moment away from me?”
    “Well, that factored in, of course.” She stepped into the room, glanced around. It had two full-sized beds—one still unmade—a small desk, a single chair and one stingy window. “You do live spare.”
    “If I’d known you were coming, I’d’ve gotten