One Grave Less

Maria’s arm and she suddenly squeezed, digging her fingernails into Maria’s skin. Maria pretended to take a drink and set the bowl down. She put an arm around Rosetta, pulled her close, kissed the top of her head, and squeezed her arm gently.
    Maria ate more food and periodically picked up the bowl and pretended to drink, as did Rosetta. She looked around at the members of the tribe as they ate. None had a bowl of the same drink. They laughed and talked to one another. The children tended to run around, eating from anyone’s plate. The young men who had ridden in her truck were apparently telling the story. She couldn’t understand the language, but the hand gestures were pretty clear. It looked like a more exciting adventure than it was.
    Maria picked a time when Ric wasn’t looking at the two of them and deftly and quickly poured the drink through the cracks in the floor. She finished her meal and sat watching the others. It was getting dark and they would be going to bed.
    “Rosetta and I are going to sleep in the truck,” said Maria to Ric. “We’ve had a hard time and she feels comfortable in the truck. But I appreciate the offer of the hammock.”
    “You must be tired of sleeping in the cramped truck. You’re pretty tall,” he said.
    Maria grinned. “You’d be surprised how comfortable it is,” she said. She put her hand to her mouth and yawned. “I think, on this great meal, we are going to turn in. Tell the cooks that their food was great and we appreciate them and you sharing with us.”
    Ric smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said.
    Maria carried Rosetta to the truck, mainly so they could talk without being overheard.
    “What was in the drink?” asked Maria.
    “ Sorri , I think she called it,” said Rosetta.
    The “she,” Maria guessed, being the woman who taught Rosetta about plants and herbs.
    “Something like that. Maybe Saaro . It puts you to sleep. It can kill you.”
    Maria took a breath and held it. So they weren’t safe. Ric or the others would be expecting them to drop into a deep sleep. That’s why he had wanted them in the hammock and vulnerable.
    They reached the truck, climbed in, and locked the doors. Maria didn’t lean against the doors or the window. Rosetta slept with her head on her lap. Maria put the gun where she could reach it in a hurry. She tried to stay awake.
    Maria dreamed of West Side Story . She awoke to the sound of someone singing “Maria.”
    “Did you say something?” she asked Rosetta.
    Rosetta sat wide-eyed and pointed to the driver’s-side window. Ric was there with a rifle pointed at them.

Chapter 35
    Diane studied her own navy leather sandals, thinking about what Lynn Webber had said about Madge Stewart and her shoes. She looked up at the group.
    “What do you think?” she asked anyone who might want to answer.
    Izzy was the first. He had slimmed down considerably since she first met him—not from becoming health conscious, but from losing a child. Food just hadn’t been important anymore. Diane understood. Like her, he had been slowly climbing out of depression after he lost his almost grown son in a meth lab explosion. A lab that none of the more than thirty partying students from Bartram University who died there knew was in the basement. It was one of Rosewood’s biggest tragedies, touching in one way or another everyone who lived there.
    Izzy credited his recovery with the change from being a policeman to being a crime scene specialist, focusing on collecting the evidence that convicted criminals. Diane thought it probably had a lot to do with the friendships among the lab team. She had put together a good group and she was proud of them.
    If she wasn’t able to solve her problems in a timely manner, the museum directorship wouldn’t be the only job she would be in danger of losing. She would also lose her job as head of the crime lab. The lab couldn’t afford to have a director with damaged credibility.
    “I’m having a problem with the shoes thing,” said Izzy.
    “Dr. Webber told a good story . . . but really? The Stewart woman could have just hiked up her skirt and stepped over the chain and walked down the embankment. It wasn’t steep and her heels weren’t that high. Are you gals really that obsessed with shoes? Maybe Webber is. I can see that, but what about you, Neva?”
    “Hey,” she said, “you saying I’m not in her league?”
    Izzy turned to David. “Is that what I said?”
    David