“And ground penetrating radar indicated the soil has been disturbed since that study, so something was buried here,” Nate said. “Something important enough that a person risked jail time to retrieve it.”
“How do you know it’s not gone?”
“It probably is, but they could have left something behind. This is now a search and recovery for evidence.” Sam turned to Nate. “Right?”
The sheriff nodded. “And the park service director in Natchez asked that Emma conduct the dig in order to preserve any artifacts.”
“Do you have the diagram?” Corey asked.
“I have it,” Emma said, emerging from the back side of the cemetery. All three of them turned toward her.
“Good, you’re here. How’s your hand?” Corey asked, his voice suddenly warm.
She waved off his concern. “It’s fine. What’s the problem? I heard you clear on the other side of the cemetery.”
The attorney frowned. “You assured me you weren’t going to dig up the cemetery.”
Confusion crossed her face. “We’re not digging it up. We’re trying to discover what was here.” She glanced at Nate as if to ask how much she should tell.
The sheriff’s jaw shot out. “It’s like I said. A crime was committed here Thursday night, and then again last night. I’m investigating it. Emma is here to look out for the interests of the park service.”
“The diagram, please.” Corey held his hand out.
Emma took it from her backpack, but she didn’t give it to him, unfolding the paper instead. “As you can see, I’ve marked the graves with orange flags according to this diagram.” The attorney looked over her shoulder as Emma pointed out each grave and a corresponding flag.
“There is no grave shown at this spot, yet the GPR reading showed disturbed layers of soil just like the graves, only shallower.” Emma looked up at Corey. “We have to find out what was here.”
Corey stared at the map, then shifted his gaze to the sheriff. “What did you mean when you said a crime was committed again last night?”
“The person returned last night,” Nate said grimly. “And used the backhoe to dig the hole deeper.”
“Why didn’t you post guards?” the attorney asked.
“We did, two of them.” Nate kicked at a dirt clod. “Whoever robbed the grave doctored their thermos of coffee, knocked them out.”
Corey turned to Emma. “It sounds dangerous for you to be here.”
Sam wondered what the attorney would say if he knew someone had fired at them last night at Emma’s apartment, but she spoke before he had the chance to speak.
She swept her hand toward the men around her. “These men are packing heat, so I’m fine. But I do need to get to work. Are you going to forget about talking to the judge since we won’t be doing any more excavation other than scraping away a few layers?”
Corey shifted his attention from Emma to the hole. “I’ll hold off until the investigation is finished, but my client is adamant about any of the graves being disturbed.” Corey slipped the paper in an inside pocket of his suit just as an alarm went off on his watch, and he tapped it.
“I have an appointment back in Natchez,” he said and turned to face Emma. “But you and I need to sit down and discuss this survey you’re conducting.”
“We will when you tell me who this client of yours is.”
“I’ve told you before, his name is confidential. I will tell you he thinks it should be conducted by someone with a personal stake in the cemetery.”
Understanding dawned on Sam. Corey Chandler must represent a descendant of the slaves who were buried at Mount Locust.
“Does he think I won’t do a good job? I want to make sure all the burial sites have been found. And by excavating the cabin area, I’ll discover what the lives of the people who lived in the cabins were like.” She stopped to catch her breath. “And I would be happy to work with him, if that’s what he wants.”
Corey palmed his hand. “I’ll pass that along. Could we please sit down over dinner and discuss this? And not at Jug Head’s . . . maybe at the Guest House downtown? Strictly business, of course.”
Why would Corey need to discuss the matter with Emma over dinner at a ritzy restaurant? His stomach soured as she actually seemed to be considering the offer.
“Call me either tomorrow or Tuesday, and we’ll set up something,” she said.
Sam’s hands curled into tight fists. Surely he wasn’t jealous of the