Forbidden Ground. Karen Harper

Miller came around the corner of the house and walked straight toward them. He stopped, put one foot on the bottom step and leaned his crossed arms on his raised knee. Though no one stood nearby, he kept his voice low.

      “Two possibilities until we get the forensic specialists here. One, Paul went off the deep end. Nadine admits they’re in debt, he’s been shook over her medical diagnosis and the house could be foreclosed. So, it’s possible he did the damage inside himself. That could make the tipping of that carving pedestal of his an accident or—well, suicide.”

      Grant shook his head. His grip on Kate’s hand and wrist tightened. His voice was shaky. “What about he’d claim a robbery to get insurance money, then the trunk just fell over on him?”

      “Nadine says they haven’t kept up on insurance payments, not even for good medical coverage, which she needs since she’s been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. Had Paul told you that, Grant?”

      “Yeah. He did. Jace, I don’t think he’d kill himself.”

      “I’d go with accident—even murder before that. Nadine insists all three of the carving wheels were stable. From the angle it crushed his skull, either he pulled it down on top of himself or was lying on the floor when someone else pushed it.”

      “I can’t fathom anyone would murder Paul,” Grant said.

      “Considering any possibility in a situation like this is standard police procedure. I’m going to have to ask you two, since you’re the closest ones we have to eyewitnesses, to give me separate statements on what you observed in the house and when you found him. I’d like to talk to you first, Kate, since you spotted him on the floor before Grant did.”

      Grant nodded. “We understand. Anything to help. I’ve lost a good friend, and we’ve lost a talented artist.”

      Kate surprised herself by clinging to Grant’s hand as they stood. Then she let go and followed Deputy Miller around the side of the house where he indicated they could talk in the front seat of his squad car.

      * * *

      After she’d spent a half hour with Deputy Miller, Kate waited for Grant to be interviewed. Jace Miller seemed understandably nervous to her, but he’d done a thorough job of taking her statement. Remembering Grant’s warnings about not theorizing, she’d tried to stick to the facts.

      But now, sitting in Grant’s truck, waiting for him, Kate began to tremble. If Paul had been murdered, he wasn’t the first victim she’d seen, she tried to tell herself. She’d studied deaths, even of murder and sacrificial victims, and their surroundings the way Deputy Miller and the experts would have to here.

      But the victims she’d seen were long-dead, dusty skeletons in ancient graves, put to death and buried with their deceased masters to honor and serve them. Discovering Paul that way made her think how horrible it must have been for the Celt and Adena slaves or companions of the dead to have their skulls smashed so they could accompany their betters to the afterlife.

      The minute she and Grant drove down the mountain to the level of the town, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Carson was calling. She didn’t answer the call but saw that he’d phoned her three other times while she’d been out of reach over the past four hours. Well, when she told him what had happened, he’d have to understand.

      “Important?” Grant asked.

      “Carson Cantrell. You know—my university mentor and colleague. I’ll call him back later. Grant, should we talk more about Paul? To debrief or just clear the air? This on top of the loss of your tree...”

      “This is worse than the tree.”

      “Of course it is. I’m sure you want to break it to Todd and Brad.”

      “Don’t want to but have to. Word will get around fast, even if Paul lived out—up—a ways.”

      “I suppose everyone will say he died doing what he loved. I had a colleague who loved to ski and was killed in an avalanche, but I guess there is a bit of comfort in looking at it that way. Paul’s work is amazing—unique and so imaginative. It’s a great loss, and I was so excited to have him do a work to link the Celts and Adena. Did you notice the carving that...that hurt him had the well-known Adena pipe figure on it? It’s eerie—almost as if he knew that’s what I planned to commission from him, with the Beastmaster.”

      She saw Grant’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Maybe she was wrong to think it would help him to talk about Paul.

      He cleared his throat. “Your appreciation of his work pleased him. He was really stubborn about sticking to his art, even when Nadine thought he should take another job—any job—to tide them over or that he should go more commercial. Kate, I was hoping we could have dinner tonight, but I’d better tell our old buddies myself.”

      He took her home and insisted on walking her to the door and then going in.

      “Just to be sure everything’s normal in here,” he said. He looked around the first floor to convince himself she was safe. “Not much left inside here, is there?” he asked.

      “Tess said Grace sold a lot of things after they were done renting it and moved to the Hear Ye community. I guess they pretty much hold things in common there. And Tess took a few things for their new place. I’m only passing through, so I can make do. She did leave me a stocked fridge. Can I get you anything?”

      He shook his head but reached for her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m grateful you were with me today,” he said, his warm breath moving the tendrils of hair along her forehead. “But we can’t play detective ourselves, even though I get it that you’re used to considering all angles and proving theories. Promise?”

      “I know to leave things up to the experts, and this is not my field.”

      She felt him relax a bit, even though she hadn’t really promised what he’d asked. Did he think she’d get hurt by trying to puzzle things through?

      “Dinner tomorrow night?” he asked. “To make up for tonight?”

      She leaned back a bit to look up into his eyes; that move tilted her hips tighter against his. “Don’t worry about me. Yes, I’d love that. But you just take care of yourself.”

      “I might need some help with that.”

      “Good. Call me tomorrow. I’ll be out and about mapping virgin mound sites, but—”

      “Including mine?”

      “If you let me.”

      “Just noting their location and size?”

      “For starters, yes.”

      “Okay. I’ll call you about that later, and we can do it together.”

      Their gazes met and held. His arms around her tightened. He tilted his head and kissed her warmly, but lightly, quickly. She sensed he was holding back for some reason. He was distracted and must figure this wasn’t the time or place, darn him.

      He hugged her again and was out the door. It wasn’t two minutes later her phone sounded—she had it programmed to play “Rule, Britannia!”—and she saw it was Carson again. Strange, but she’d actually hoped it was Grant, which was ridiculous since he’d just left.

      “Carson, yes, I’m here.”

      “Where in hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. No weddings today to make you turn off your cell, right?”

      “You won’t believe what happened. I went with Grant Mason to a local artist’s house to commission a carving and we found the man dead—with his skull crushed. And by his own carving—he uses tree trunks—which had the Adena pipe figure on it, like he was psychic that was what I’d order—that and a Beastmaster mask.”

      “What? Slow down. Unbelievable! A freak accident?”

      “His place had been ransacked when his wife