The Anatomist's Wife (A LADY DARBY MYSTERY) by Huber AnnaLee

Author:Huber, AnnaLee [Huber, AnnaLee]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2012-11-05T16:00:00+00:00

• • •

An hour later, we were back on the hill with Philip and a pair of Cromarty footmen, along with a few shovels and lanterns. I pulled my pelisse tighter around me as the shadows began to lengthen and watched the four men take turns with the shovels. Neither Philip nor Gage had wanted me to tag along, and I had seriously considered listening to them, but in our rush to gather reinforcements, I had not shown Gage which rock had been moved. I knew the hill best. I knew where each stone should rest and how deep they had each settled into the earth. The others did not, not even Philip. So in the end, there had been no choice except for me to join them.

Perched on my sketching rock, I pulled my knees up to my chest as the men tossed shovelfuls of dirt up out of the three-foot-deep hole they had dug in the earth. The head-sized stone that had covered the spot had been returned to its original position a few feet away so that they could excavate the earth underneath. It was all rather eerie, as if the killer had begun a cairn on the little hillock. That is, if I was correct about what lay underneath.

I dug my fingers into my upper arms and pulled my gaze away from the growing hole. I was sick with dread over what we might find buried there. Fear and revulsion crawled across my skin and underneath my clothing like an insect. Shuddering, I lifted my face to the wind for a breath of fresh air not permeated with the scent of freshly turned earth.

Philip handed his shovel off to Gage and climbed out of the hole. Moving toward me, he swiped the sweat from his brow with the rolled sleeve of his shirt. The men had abandoned their jackets long ago. “This killer is far too intelligent,” he declared, propping his hands on his hips. His face screwed up in frustration. “To bury something in a spot where the soil is so often turned by the runoff from the rain, and place a fresh animal carcass nearby. When the dogs dragged me up here, I thought they smelled the raccoon’s blood. All of this dirt looked as if it had been disturbed recently.” He shook his head. “I should have noticed the rock had been moved.”

“Stop berating yourself,” I told him. “As you said, the murderer was clever. And it looks like he did his best to keep any animals from being able to dig it up.”

“Yes, buried deep and placed a rock over it.”

None of us spoke of what “it” was, but I could tell Gage and Philip suspected the same thing. Our collective sense of horror weighted the air. The footmen may not have known exactly what we were looking for, but they took their cues from Philip and Gage and dug carefully and quietly.

It looked as if another foot or so of dirt had been cleared away when Gage halted the footman beside him and bent down to look at something.

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