Read Birthright for Free Online Page A

attached to a huge red plastic tag. “I put you ’round back, room six-oh-three. Got a queen bed and it’s quiet enough. Probably take about half an hour for that hamburger.”
    â€œAppreciate it.”
    â€œMiss . . . ah . . .” The woman squinted at the scrawled signature on the check-in card. “Dunbock.”
    â€œDunbrook.”
    â€œDunbrook. You a musician?”
    â€œNo. I dig in the dirt for a living. I play this”—she jiggled the large black case—“to relax. Tell your granddaughter not to forget the ketchup.”
    A t four o’clock, dressed in clean olive-green pants and a khaki-colored camp shirt, her long hair freshly shampooed and drawn back in a smooth tail, Callie once again pulled to the shoulder of the site.
    She’d worked on her notes, had e-mailed a copy of them to Leo. On her way back, she’d dropped by the post office to express-mail him her undeveloped film.
    She slipped on little silver earrings with a Celtic design and had spent ten very intense minutes on her makeup.
    The camera crew was already setting up for the remote. Callie noted Lana Campbell was there as well, clutching the hand of a towheaded boy who had a scab on one knee, dirt on his chin and the kind of cherubic face that spelled trouble.
    Dolan, in his signature blue shirt and red suspenders, stood directly beside his business sign and was already talking to a woman Callie pegged as the reporter.
    She assumed he was Ronald Dolan because he didn’t look happy.
    The minute he spotted Callie, he broke off and marched toward her.
    â€œYou Dunbrook?”
    â€œDr. Callie Dunbrook.” She gave him a full-power smile. Callie had known some men to dissolve into a panting puddle when she used full power. Dolan appeared to be immune.
    â€œWhat the hell’s going on here?” He jabbed a finger at her chest, but fortunately for him didn’t make contact.
    â€œLocal TV asked for an interview. I always try to cooperate. Mr. Dolan”—still smiling, she touched his arm as if they were compatriots—“you’re a very lucky man. The archaeological and anthropological communities are never going to forget your name. They’ll be teaching classes about your site for generations. I have a copy of my preliminary report here.”
    She held out a folder. “I’ll be happy to explain anything you don’t understand. I realize some of it’s pretty technical. Has a representative of the National History Museum at the Smithsonian contacted you yet?”
    â€œWhat?” He stared at the report as if she were handing him a live snake. “What?”
    â€œI just want to shake your hand.” She took his, pumped. “And thank you for your part in this incredible discovery.”
    â€œNow, you listen here—”
    â€œI’d love to take you, your wife and family out to dinner at the first opportunity.” She kept the smile in place, even boosted it with a couple of flutters of her lashes, while she steamrolled him. “But I’m afraid I’m going to be very busy for the next several weeks. Will you excuse me? I want to get this part over with.”
    She pressed a hand to her heart. “Talking on camera always makes me a little nervous.” She tied up the lie with a quick, breathless laugh. “If you have any questions, any at all about the report or the ones that follow, please ask either myself or Dr. Greenbaum. I’ll be spending most of my time right here, on-site. I won’t be hard to find.”
    He started to bluster again, but she hurried off to introduce herself to the camera crew.
    â€œSlick,” Lana murmured. “Very slick.”
    â€œThanks.” She squatted down and studied the little boy. “Hi. You the reporter?”
    â€œNo.” He giggled, and his mossy-green eyes twinkled with fun. “You’re gonna be on TV. Mommy said I could