Stranded

climb the last steps and stand beside her.
    She held up the map and pointed down below.
    “This is it,” she told him.
    Tully gave it only a glance. He wiped a hand over his face and Maggie could see his jaw clenched tight when he said, “The hunt might be over but the nightmare’s just beginning. We found a black garbage bag.”
    He met her eyes and added, “I think there’s a body inside.”

CHAPTER 3

    Maggie could see only a section of the garbage bag that bulged out from under the chunks of dirt. The black plastic still had a glossy newness despite the mud and the smell. On their hike back, Tully had explained how he had hunted down the foul smell, which convinced him the bulging plastic bag might contain a body, although most of the bag remained underneath the pile of dirt.
    The first thing Maggie noticed was that this burial plot—if it was, indeed, that—wasn’t close to the crater that had produced the skull and femurs. The mound of earth was set at the edge of the woods, at least a hundred feet away from the farmhouse.
    “We tore up this area yesterday morning,” the construction foreman said. “We thought it was just garbage. That’s what it smelled like. We didn’t think much about it. A lot of country folks bury their trash instead of burning it. They sort of make their own personal landfills. We just left it alone.”
    “You didn’t think it was odd that there wasn’t any other garbage?” Tully asked.
    The foreman, who had introduced himself only as Buzz, shrugged. He kept his hard hat low over his brow, and his mirroredsunglasses made it difficult to see whether he was concerned or simply impatient with the delays.
    The sheriff and his deputies, along with the construction crew, now surrounded the pile of dirt that stood about seven feet tall and spread over about fifteen feet. The equipment had left tracks and gashes in the ground, including a three-foot-deep trench with claw marks. Yet, Tully seemed adamant that it was a crime scene and he even attempted to back off the men.
    He asked them to stay at least ten feet away, which Maggie thought was senseless. Any evidence had already been run over, dug up, or washed away. At this point, a few more footprints wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, none of the men looked anxious to poke or prod at the garbage bag. They appeared more wary of it than curious.
    Tully took a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket, removed his sports jacket, and handed it to Maggie.
    “What are you doing?” she asked him.
    “I’m just going to check it out.”
    “Shouldn’t we wait?” Sheriff Uniss wanted to know.
    Tully glanced back at him. “Wait for who? The FBI?”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw the sheriff’s face grow crimson.
    “It might just be a bag of garbage,” Tully said, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “You want to call a mobile crime lab out here and have them open it only to find someone’s rotting leftovers?”
    No one answered. The younger deputy shifted his weight and Maggie could see the discomfort on his face. She recognized that look. First murder case. First dead body. It was hard not to be excited while trying to hide the shock and a bit of nausea. He swiped at his chin and his eyes darted around.
    Maggie was surprised at Tully. It wasn’t like him to jump in. Of the two of them, he was the cautious one. He waited for the appropriate authorities. He played by the rules. It was Maggie who often leaped headfirst.
    But she shared his impatience. That a rest area backed up to this property could be a mere coincidence, except that it matched the hand-drawn map, almost line for squiggly line. Factor in that this farm had been vacant for almost ten years. They had been searching for this highway killer’s dumping grounds for more than three weeks now. Maggie could feel Tully’s restlessness. The land was technically federal property. They had jurisdiction.
    She didn’t say a word when Tully glanced back at her. He was looking for her to stop him. But she wanted to see what was inside the plastic bag, too. She nodded her agreement.
    Tully stepped carefully, gauging the best method of approach. The only two options were wading through the muddy trench and reaching up to the bag or going around the side and climbing the pile of dirt to get to the bag. Tully chose to climb.
    The chunks of dirt held his weight but it looked like one wrong move and he’d start a mudslide. He’d made it within arm’s length of the