“I knew you’d come out here on your own if I didn’t.”
“Smart.”
Dirt smeared his sweat-glistened skin. Everywhere from his brow to the beginnings of a golden happy trail, visible above the waist of his jeans. He’d removed his shirt an hour ago, and she couldn’t help but notice he was a seriously beautiful man. He was also kind beyond imagining. Caring. A little—or a lot—haunted. Still not great at smiling. But at least he was relaxing more.
Mental note: Call Eunice and/or Ana about that double date!
“Let me rephrase. Why am I doing this?” he grumbled, hoisting another scoop of dirt out of the hole, his well-defined biceps straining. “This is your idea. You should be the one huffing and puffing.”
She offered him the same expression often displayed to Jane herself. Amused indulgence. The equivalent of a pat on the head. “But Beau,” she said with an exaggerated pout, “all of my digging equipment stopped working ages ago. Since there are to be no more burials, I decided not to waste money fixing everything. Now I rely on my trusty shovel. I only found one shovel.”
He snorted. “Yes, but I happen to know you have three others. You hid them, didn’t you?” He plunged the blade in the earth again, all kinds of muscles rippling. Thunk.
Beau stilled. Their gazes met.
Breathless with excitement, she asked, “Does that mean what I think it means?”
“Oh yeah.” He shoveled faster to reveal the upper part of a seriously old casket. “We hit pay dirt.”
She hopped down and crouched, the lantern casting brighter rays into the depths of the hole. Carved in the center of the lid? The Order of Seven symbol, as noted by her ancestor.
A rush of adrenaline flooded her veins. “I’m joining you in the pit. This is happening, so don’t try to stop me.” Jane secured the ladder she’d placed at the ready and climbed down, bringing the lantern with her. She wiped the remaining layer of dirt from the casket’s surface.
Beau continued digging around the edges to provide a fingerhold. “Again, I gotta ask. You’re sure this is legal?”
On her knees, she propped her hands on her hips. “Look at you, all concerned about the law. I mean, it’s about as legal as it’s gonna get without a court order. This grave belongs to Silas Ladling, the first resident of Garden of Memories. As his heir, I grant permission for this exhumation. As the groundskeeper, I offer no protests to said permission. See? Extra legal.”
He flashed her a dubious look but reached for the crowbar anyway. Friends were awesome. The aged wood creaked as he pried open the seal. Beau’s complexion suddenly took on a greenish hue, and it had nothing to do with the lighting.
“That smell,” he choked.
“Don’t be silly. The body is too old to have a smell. No, what you’re smelling is the scent of a new curse being unleashed upon an unsuspecting world. I kid, I kid.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Have you always been this way?” His nose wrinkled as the last nail gave and they broke into popped open the lid. “I swear I’m inhaling death itself.” He shuddered and gagged.
A smile spread. Sometimes she forgot how squeamish other people got around gravestones and caskets and dead bodies. She gave her big tough guy’s muscly arm a gentle squeeze. “Be honest. You believe you’ve unleashed a vengeful ghost who will forever haunt you.”
“I didn’t. But I do now,” he griped.
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from most likely nonexistent entities. In the meantime, just breathe through your mouth. In and out. Good, that’s good.”
Her own breath hitched in anticipation as she returned her attention to the casket. This might be the most exciting development since she’d joined the investigation team. Real answers about Dr. Hot’s death, legends, secret symbols and buried gold could be hers in mere seconds.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid.
For over a hundred years, this casket had remained buried, bothered only by time, the elements and once, those looters. Was Abigail right? Had someone hidden more gold before the second burial? The wood protested with a splintering groan as the top separated from the bottom.
Beau kept his gaze on the star-studded sky above them, no doubt plotting his escape route.
With a final mournful sound, the burial box grudgingly revealed its secrets. “This is it,” she said, goose bumps spreading over her arms as she adjusted the lamp. She’d never felt so amped for a moment.
Light chased the shadows from the coffin’s aged interior.
“Well.” Her shoulders rolled in. “Empty.”
“Someone stole the body?” Beau dropped his gaze, only to zoom it back to the sky. He covered his mouth, gagging once again, and a giggle escaped her. Glaring her way, he barked, “You said the thing was empty but it’s filled with bones.”
“I meant there’s no gold.” Which meant, what? That she was right and the new rumors about gold proved to be nothing more than speculation? That she should focus on the romance angle? Namely Emma Miller?