Jack had gotten the same when he’d called their clients.
Oh yeah, the ladies had apparently gone into hiding.
Finley had to kill some time or go crazy contemplating this afternoon’s dreaded birthday party.
She should never have promised her dad she would go.
Walking the floors hadn’t burned off the impulse to do something . . . anything. There had been only one option left for retaining her sanity—unearth whatever was in her backyard. From the moment the neighbor had mentioned Derrick doing something in the backyard, Finley had tried to quell the urge to check it out. But she had lost that battle.
She didn’t actually own boots suitable for yard work or gardening, but Derrick had. She dug around on his side of the closet until she found the rubber boots he had kept by the back door before. She pulled them on over her socks, tucking the legs of her jeans inside. It was hot already, so she trudged to the back door and picked one of his hats. Gloves lay on the shelf above the coat-and-hat rack.
Phone was in her back pocket. Bottle of water and gloves in hand. She was ready to begin.
She walked out the back door and surveyed the small rear yard. Nothing much to see. Overgrown grass. A rusty firepit standing near the center. A couple of overturned plastic chairs. Sooner rather than later she really needed to get someone over here to mow the lawn. Her gaze narrowed as she kicked a clump of grass. Maybe she should cut the grass before poking around back here. Shouldn’t take that long. Assuming there was gasoline and that she could start the mower.
Why not?
The garage smelled musty. Retrieving that screwdriver for Matt was the first time she’d been inside in ages. It had been Derrick’s space. It wasn’t like a new garage with an overhead door. It was old and small with barn-style doors that swung open. She flipped on the lights and picked her way to the mower. It was dusty. Even had a cobweb hanging between it and a nearby shelf.
“You never know until you try.”
An hour and a half later she’d actually cut the grass in back as well as the postage-stamp-size plot out front. All that was left was the grass too close to the house, around the firepit, and along the fence. Her arms were tired and she was sweaty and dusty, but she felt good. Maybe it was time she started running again. She’d forgotten how a strenuous workout could help with stress.
At least now she could see the contours of the ground out back. There were a few ruts and a couple of former flower beds with that rubber landscape edging. She had never noticed any of it before. When she’d pushed the mower back into the garage, she’d grabbed a shovel. Derrick had all the usual yard implements. Something else she’d never noticed. There had been no yard work to do at her condo. Her parents had always had a gardener.
Pretty sad that she could get to thirty-two and not have ever cut grass until now.
She walked the backyard in a grid pattern. Like a crime scene, east to west, then north to south. Near the back, at the thick row of trees and hedges that separated her yard from the neighbor’s behind her, there was a bit of a mound. It was grass covered, but after a year it would be.
With a covert glance around to ensure no one was watching, she started to dig. Her arms were burning and sweat was dripping by the time she hit something that wasn’t dirt. Black. Plastic.
Her pulse skipped. Taking a deep breath, she scrubbed away more of the dirt with her gloved hands. Definitely a large plastic garbage bag. When she’d cleared enough dirt, she poked at the bag. Her breath caught. There was something inside. Since she hadn’t found the opening of the bag, she opted to make one in the plastic. As soon as the black shroud was ruptured, the scent of decay hit her in the face.
She reared back. Coughed. Fought the urge to gag.
When she’d calmed her reaction, she dug around in the hole she’d made. Her gloved fingers wrapped around a slender, solid object.
Holding her breath, she pulled it from the bag.
Bone.
Adrenaline slammed into her heart.
Damn.
More clawing around in the bag and she discovered another bone. This one a jaw.
Dog.
Relief had her collapsing onto her butt in the freshly cut grass. Someone had buried the family pet.
Shaking her head, she scrambled up, tore off her gloves, and dusted herself off.
What was wrong with her?
There had to be a reasonable explanation for whatever Derrick had been doing back here. Shovel in hand, she spread the dirt back over the bag of bones. She swore at herself for being such an idiot.
She trudged around the yard again, kicking the slightest clump or lump she spotted. Surveying for sunken areas where trenching or digging might have been done previously. She found nothing.