Mother. Fucking. Fucker.
Sloane leans closer.
I grab her by her waistband to keep her from falling in again.
“So…your great-grandpa had enemies, huh?”
My flashlight beam sweeps left to right, then right to left again. “Maybe they’re animal bones.”
“Yeah, no. Those are human.”
Fuuuuuuck. “Are you sure?”
“See the pelvis? And the ribs? Theycouldbe some kind of animal, but it’s highly unlikely. That’s a human pelvis. I’m positively certain that’s a human pelvis.” She angles herself to peer deeper into the hole, and I have to brace my feet harder to keep a solid hold on her.
She makes a frustrated noise. “You can let go. I’m not going to fall in.”
“You did once.”
“And I’m not going to again. Just—let me look at the walls, okay? The walls are wood under the stairs. Where’s your metal detector? It’s not disturbing a crime scene if all you do is sweep a metal detector over the walls to see if there’s anything hidden in there.”
Crime scene.
We found a crime scene.
Shit.
“Chuck?” I say.
He doesn’t answer.
“Rafael?”
Still no answer.
“What are you doing?” Sloane hisses. “Get the metal detector.”
“I’m making sure we’re fucking alone,” I hiss back.
She straightens and looks at me, and then she does the worst thing she could possibly do.
She grins. “Are you frustrated?”
I blow out a slow breath. “No.”
“You sound frustrated.”
“I’m not frustrated.”
“So it takes finding a crime scene to make you fully and completely frustrated.”
“I’m not fucking frustrated.”
She smiles so big that it’s like her entire body has morphed into one giant smile. “If you say so. Metal detector, please.”
Fine.
Fine.
