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shop in the vicinity. Tucker, a master mechanic, did double duty as the community’s elected constable. It was a job he took very seriously, even though its sole requirement, as of late, seemed to be helping the volunteer fire department search for missing dogs and cats. Lonnie was a short five feet two inches tall, but solidly built for his age—an age revealed by a receding hairline and the deeply sun-etched lines of his perpetually tanned face. A fading reminder of his twenty-two years in the navy was visible in a tattoo of an anchor on his left forearm.
    Taneysville’s constable didn’t bother to look up at Sean, but instead kept his eyes fixed on the skull that protruded from the ground near his feet. “Well, first off, Mr. Reilly, when I was stationed down in Groton—that’s in Connecticut—I had the opportunity to visit an archaeological dig. See, I can trace my family tree way back, and some Pequots show up here and there, so it’s always been a kind of interest of mine—Native American culture, that is.”
    â€œCome off it. This is no damn burial ground and you know it.” Sean moved closer to Lonnie, but the intended intimidation had no effect.
    â€œI wouldn’t be too sure there, Mr. Reilly … but, then, I’m no expert, not by a long shot … However, in support of your theory, I’d have to agree that this skull doesn’t look nearly as aged as the ones I saw down in Connecticut. Actually—”
    â€œLook, buddy, if you’re lookin’ for some casino deal up here like the one they got themselves in Connecticut—”
    Lonnie lifted his hand and Sean fell silent. “You’re not helping your case by calling me ‘buddy,’ Mr. Reilly. You’ve been presented with my I.D.; and until we’re drinking beers together over at Eddie’s Elbow Room, I suggest you try calling me Constable … or Mr. Tucker. Understood?”
    Sean groaned slightly, resisting the temptation to mutter, Short guy with way too much power .
    â€œNow, this can go one of two ways,” Lonnie continued. “I can either call the state’s Council on Native American Indian Affairs—”
    â€œHold it. Stop right there,” Sean barked. “These local yokels have put you up to this. I’ll place money on it.” He pulled his cell phone from his work belt. “I’m calling Mr. Gordon. We’re getting some lawyers out here … You can’t get away with this.”
    â€œYou’re not hearing me out, Mr. Reilly. The other option I have—at this point—is to assess that these skeletal remains do not belong to a Native American. Which, believe it or not, I’m inclined to do.”
    â€œMeaning …”
    â€œMeaning, I do some digging … see what else I unearth before that nor’easter blows in. Then I send my findings over to the forensics specialists in Newcastle for analysis.”
    Sean smiled, sensing a glimmer of hope. “And then I can get my men back to work …?”
    â€œAs long as their work doesn’t involve any more digging, sure.”
    Sean exploded once more. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    â€œUntil the Newcastle lab confirms that this skull is not that of a Native American, or that this is not a crime scene—meaning that no criminal activity has been committed on these premises—I want nothing disturbed. No further work can be done in this vicinity until I get the okay from Newcastle. That goes for the interior of the house, as well. We’ve got to be careful here. After all, we might be talking homicide. I’m not saying we are …”
    â€œAre you crazy?”
    â€œThat’s my position.”
    â€œHow long is that going to take?”
    â€œI don’t know. Depends on how busy the forensics lab is. It’s a city, know what I mean? They got homicides like any other urban population … So