Тесс Герритсен - Bloodstream стр 14.

Two men wearing waders and headlamps stood knee-deep in the stream, gingerly excavating the side of the bank.

Lucy Overlock was standing among the trees talking on a cell phone. She was like a tree herself, tall and strapping, dressed in a woodsmans wardrobe of jeans and work boots. Her hair, almost entirely gray, was tied back in a tight, no-nonsense ponytail. She saw Lincoln, gave a harassed wave, and continued with her phone conversation. no artifacts yet, just the skeletal remains. But I assure you, this burial doesnt fall under NAGPRA. The skull looks Caucasoid to me, not Indian. What do you mean, how can I tell? Its obvious! The brain-case is too narrow, and the facial breadth just isnt wide enough. No, of course its not absolute. But the site is on Locust Lake, and theres never been a Penobscot settlement here. The tribe wouldnt even fish in this lake, its such a taboo place. She looked up at the sky and shook her head. Certainly, you can examine the bones for yourself. But we have to excavate this site now, before the animals do any more damage, or well lose the whole thing. She hung up and looked at Lincoln in frustration. Custody battle.

Over bones?

Its that NAGPRA law. Indian graves protection. Every time we find remains, the tribes demand one hundred percent confirmation its not one of theirs.

Ninety-five percent isnt good enough for them. Her gaze turned to Claire, whod stepped forward to introduce herself.

Lucy Overlock, said Lincoln. And this is Claire Elliot. The doctor who found the thigh bone.

The two women shook hands, the no-nonsense greeting of two medical professionals meeting over a grim business.

Were lucky youre the one who spotted the bone, said Lucy. Anyone else might not have realized it was human.

To be honest, I wasnt entirely sure, said Claire. Im glad I didnt drag everyone out here for a cow bone.

Its definitely not a cow

One of the diggers called out from the streambed: We found something else.

Lucy dropped knee-deep into the stream and aimed a flashlight at the exposed bank.

There, said the digger, gently prodding the soil with a trowel. Looks like it might be another skull.

Lucy snapped on gloves. Okay, lets ease it out.

He slid the tip of his trowel deeper into the bank and gingerly pried away caked mud. The object dropped into Lucys gloved hands. She scrambled out of the water and up onto the bank. Kneeling down, she surveyed her treasure over the tarp.

It was indeed a second skull. Under the floodlight, Lucy carefully turned it over and examined the teeth.

Another juvenile. No wisdom teeth, Lucy noted. I see decayed molars here and here, but no fillings.

Meaning no dental work, said Claire.

Yes, these are old bones. A good thing for you, Lincoln. Otherwise, this would be an active homicide case.

Why do you say that?

She rotated the skull, and the light fell on the crown, where fracture lines radiated out from a central depression, the way a soft-boiled egg cracks when it is struck with the back of a spoon.

I dont think theres any doubt, she said. This child died a violent death.

The chirp of a beeper cut through the silence, startling them all. In the stillness of those woods, that electronic sound was strangely foreign.

Disconcerting. Both Claire and Lincoln automatically reached for their respective pagers.

Its mine, said Lincoln, glancing at his readout. Without another word, he took off through the woods toward his cruiser. Seconds later, Claire saw the dome light flashing through the trees as his vehicle streaked away.

Must be an emergency, said Lucy.

Officer Pete Sparks was already at the scene, trying to talk old Vein Fuller into putting down his shotgun. Night had fallen, and Lincolns first glimpse of the situation was of two wildly gesturing silhouettes intermittently backlit by the flashing dome light of Petes cruiser. Lin coin pulled to a stop in Verns driveway and cautiously stepped out of his vehicle. He heard bleating sheep, the restless clucking of chickens. The sounds of a working farm.

You dont need the gun, Pete was saying. Just go back in the house, Vern, and well look into this.

Like you looked into it the last time?

I didnt find anything the last time.

Thats because you take so damn long gettin here!

Whats the problem? said Lincoln.

Vern turned to him. That you, Chief Kelly? Then you tell this-this boy here that Im not about to hand over my only protection.

Im not asking you to hand it over, said a weary-sounding Pete. I just want you to stop waving it around. Go inside and put the gun away, so nobody gets hurt.

I think thats a good idea; said Lincoln. We dont know what were dealing with, so you go in and lock the door, Vern. Stay close to the phone, just in case we need you to call for backup.

Backup? Vern gave a grunt. Yeah. Okay, Ill do that.

The two cops waited for the old man to stomp into the house and shut the door.

Then Pete said, Hes blind as a bat. Wish we could get that shotgun away from him. Every time I come out here, I half expect to get my head blown off.