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  She smiled faintly. “Good guess. Some of these guys really like to press the flesh, natural-born politicians, I suppose.”

  “The chief sure is,” he agreed just as Dexter grabbed a passing man’s elbow with his left hand and pumped his hand with his right.

  “You should’ve seen it three years ago when we held this thing in some itty-bitty town in Arizona. That chief managed to get the key to his city out of the deal.”

  “Geez, when’s Onatah going to give you a key?”

  “Key to what? A silo?” Bette tossed back her head and laughed huskily. It was her laugh that had made him notice her when he’d been investigating that garroting in Onatah. Her laugh, and her compassion.

  “Should we go introduce ourselves?”

  “He and I have met before. So, why don’t you join that crush of folks at the bar and get us some drinks while I push my way through the crowd around Chief Dexter and get you your face time?”

  “Have I mentioned lately that you’re the best?”

  She pretended to think. “Certainly not in the last ten minutes. Obviously, we’re overdue.”

  She winked and started toward the chief while he swam through the crowd for the bar. Through his work in forensics, he’d spent lots of time with lots of cops, but he never really socialized much with them. Sure the occasional beer after a good arrest or a guilty verdict. And he always made a point of attending officers’ retirement parties. But now, standing in a sea of police chiefs, he felt ill at ease and conspicuous.

  He edged his way to the bar and ordered a beer and a vodka tonic. Once he had the drinks in hand, he dove back into the press of bodies.

  When he reached Bette, who had managed to disengage Chief Dexter from his entourage, she turned and said, “Oh, there you are. Lew, this is Bodhi. Bodhi, Chief Lewis Dexter is the chief of the local PD and our host this year.”

  Bodhi passed her the glass and stuck out his right hand. “Nice to meet you, Chief.”

  The police chief gripped his right hand and clapped him on the back with his left. “Dr. King, Bette’s been telling me all about your work with the forensics folks. Sounds like you sure know your stuff. Glad you decided to come along this weekend.”

  Bette tilted her chin up almost imperceptibly. The police chief didn’t notice, but Bodhi understood. She’d already primed the pump.

  He sipped his beer. “I’m looking forward to spending some time on these gorgeous mountain trails. But you know, I heard through the grapevine that you just caught a case with an unusual body.”

  Dexter grimaced. “Lousy timing. I was hoping to spend most of the weekend here with my brothers—and sisters—in blue. But the corpse was found on the Rutherfords’ land. That’s a powerful local family. Politically … well, it’s gotta be a priority.”

  “Maybe I can help?” Bodhi offered.

  “Say what?”

  “As I understand it, the body was uncovered during the course of an archaeological excavation.”

  “That’s right. You sure do seem to be plugged into the local rumor mill.”

  Bodhi smiled enigmatically. He refused to lie. But if the police chief chose to interpret his smile as an admission that he had sources on the ground, so be it.

  “In any case, I’d love the chance to examine the body. It’s not every day an iron coffin from the eighteen hundreds turns up.”

  “Oh, now, I don’t know about that ….” The chief trailed off and took a swig of his whiskey. “Our local coroner hasn’t even examined her. He says it’s a pretty delicate operation.”

  “He’s right,” Bodhi agreed.

  “In fact, Dr. Bean says he can’t do it. We’re gonna have to call in an expert.”

  Bette cleared her throat. “You know, Lewis, Bodhi’s services are very sought after. He flies all over North America to consult on difficult cases. In the past several years, he’s been everywhere from the Florida Keys to way up north in Quebec and my little corner of the world, too. The fact that he’s just sort fallen into your lap here is a stroke of luck. You’d be crazy not to take him up on his offer.”

  Lewis Dexter tugged at his mustache. “I don’t doubt you’re right, Bette. But you know how it is—I don’t have the budget for it. Heck, I’ve had to go hat in hand and ask the Rutherford Family Foundation to foot the bill to get a forensic anthropologist down here because the department sure can’t. Not sure what I’ll do if Margot tells me to pound sand.”

  “Please, don’t give my fee a thought. I’ll gladly do this at no charge—think of it as a professional courtesy. After all, I’m already here. And I’ve visited Huntsville’s rocket center in the past, so I don’t mind missing tomorrow’s outing for the guests of chiefs. Frankly, I’d rather spend some time with that body than with a rocket.”

  The police chief belly laughed. “Medical examiners, you’re a strange lot, aren’t ya’? Though, truth be told, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So, sure. Why not?”

  “Great. Is there any chance the archaeologist who discovered the coffin could be made available while I examine the body? It’d be immensely helpful to talk to her.”

  That earned him a deep frown. After a moment, the chief shook his head and said slowly, “I’m afraid not, doc. In fact, she’s … a person of interest.”

  Bodhi allowed his eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. “A person of interest in a one-hundred-and-fifty-year-old death? Is she a time traveler?”

  “Well, now, see, I think you’re gonna find that body is fresh. I’ve seen enough dead bodies. I’m betting that gal was killed within the last week. And that does cast Professor Jones in a poor light, for a number of reasons I can’t go into.”

  Bodhi hmmed low in his throat and considered whether to push the chief or take his half a loaf and run. Before he could decide, he spotted the woman from the check-in table over Bette’s shoulder barreling toward them. She dragged a large man by the arm as if he were a recalcitrant child. Another woman trailed behind them, but the man’s broad shoulders blocked her from view. All Bodhi could see was a glimpse of honey-colored hair piled high in a loose knot atop her head.

  Bette followed his gaze and craned her neck around. “I wonder what Jenny needs? I must’ve forgotten to fill something out.”

  “Maybe,” Bodhi allowed, but he thought not. For some reason, the eager smile on Jenny’s face left him unsettled.

  “Oh, there you are, Chief Clark! I’m so glad I found you. You’re never gonna believe who—oh, excuse me, Chief Dexter, I didn’t mean to interrupt your conversation.” Jenny flushed, flustered and uncertain.

  “No worries, Jenny. You go right ahead.”

  Bodhi couldn’t risk the chief using Jenny’s interloping as an excuse to get away without firming up arrangements for him to examine the woman in the coffin. He angled his body so that the chief would have to walk right through him if he tried to edge off.

  “Well, Chief, that’s mighty kind of you, and you’ll actually want to meet these folks, too. This here is Fred Bolton, Chief of Police for Saint Mary’s Parish in Belle Rue, Louisiana.”

  Before Jenny could finish, Lewis Dexter was slapping Fred Bolton on the back. “Fred, how the heck are ya’?”

  Fred Bolton finagled his way out of Dexter’s grasp. “Great to see you again, Lewis.” He turned to Bette, “And I believe I met you a few years back in Oklahoma, right? You’re Bette Clark,” he drawled.

  Bette smiled and shook his hand. “Impressive, Fred. It’d be more impressive if we weren’t all wearing these lanyards.” She lifted her name tag.

  Bolton laughed. “Busted. There’s someone I’d like you all to meet.”

  He and Jenny stepped aside to reveal his companion.

  Her clear brown eyes widened and her face went white as she met Bodhi’s gaze. His throat closed up and his heart thumped in his chest. What was she doing here?

  Jenny piped up, “As luck would have it, Chief Bolton here is dating a coroner. Just like Chief Clark! I couldn’t believe it when he
mentioned it. What are the odds?”

  Eliza Rollins pasted on a wobbly smile. “Indeed. What are the odds?”

  Bodhi didn’t know whether to hug her or shake her hand, so he did neither. “You look well, Eliza.”

  She furrowed her brow, clearly struggling with how to handle the situation. He knew the feeling.

  “You two know each other?” Bette asked.

  He coughed. “We do. Eliza and I went to medical school together. We hadn’t seen each other for more than a dozen years, but we ran into each other at a conference in Quebec a few years ago.”

  Understanding dawned on Fred’s face, and then he winced. “Ah, you must be Bodhi King. Eliza’s mentioned you.”

  No doubt.

  Bette threw Bodhi a puzzled look. She’d picked up on the tension that gripped the three of them, but she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Dexter also caught the change in the atmosphere.

  He leaned forward with an avaricious glee. “How nice that you two old med school chums happen to be here together. Did you know each other well?”

  “You could say that. We even lived together for a period of time,” Eliza’s soft accent hung in the air for a half-second too long.

  “Oh, roommates?” Dexter inquired.

  “After a fashion,” Eliza answered.

  Dexter’s phone rang. He scanned the display and took a few steps away from the group to answer the call.

  Bodhi took a breath and explained to Bette, “We were romantically involved. It was a long time ago.” Then he turned to Eliza. “It’s great to see you again. I guess we’re destined to meet at conferences, aren’t we?”

  “It seems so.” Her eyes flicked toward Bette and back to him. “And it seems you’re not destined to be on a solo journey.”

  Sully drummed his fingers against his desk while he waited for the police chief to pick up. Dexter answered on the second ring.

  “Sully?” His voice was loud, competing with background noise.

  Sully could hear laughter and conversations and muffled music.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “Well, yes and no. I’m at the welcoming reception for the conference. I told you about it, remember?”

  “Oh, right. The police chiefs.”

  “Yeah. Your ears must’ve been burning, huh?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was just talking about you. One of the chiefs brought her significant other along. Dr. Bodhi King. He’s some famous forensic pathology consultant out of Pittsburgh. Anyway, he heard about your lady in the coffin and asked if he could take a look. Gratis. So, problem solved, buddy. Tell your grandma she doesn’t need to loosen the purse strings.”

  Sully flattened his lips. The news did solve a problem, actually two. He wouldn’t have to tell Dexter that his grandmother wanted to stall him on the request, and, if the coffin turned out to be a fraud, he’d be able to get rid of Davina Jones without a confrontation about her taste in jewelry.

  But.

  Dexter’s tone toward Grandmother was unacceptable. Dexter knew it, and he knew Sully knew that he knew. Sully was obligated to chide him. But he and the chief had been dancing around an idea for months now. If he was ever going to wrest control of the foundation and its fortune from Margot, he’d need Lewis Dexter’s help.

  So, he ignored the jab.

  “Excellent news. Just let me know when Dr. King wants access, and I’ll arrange it. Any time after seven tomorrow.”

  “Will do. And listen, there’s another forensic pathologist here, too. Another plus-one. They seem to be friendly. She might tag along. Dr. Eliza Rollins. Might as well give her name to Marvin, too.”

  “Fine.”

  Sully ended the call and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Sometimes things just worked out the way they were supposed to. He could feel in his bones that this was one of those times.

  Before Bodhi had fully recovered from Eliza’s cutting remark, Dexter was back. He pocketed his phone as he rejoined their group, then gestured with the drink in his hand. “Let’s toast to old friends and new.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Bolton said with palpable relief as he raised his beer bottle.

  Dexter nodded and clinked glasses with Bette, and then he turned to Bodhi. “I’ve got a great idea.”

  Bodhi, who’d been trying to read Eliza’s expression as she sipped her wine, snapped his attention back to the police chief. “What’s that?”

  “Well, you were just telling me what a once in a lifetime opportunity it would be for a forensic pathology expert such as yourself to examine this body of ours. Why don’t you bring Doc Rollins along?”

  “Oh, I don’t know if Eliza would be interested in a busman’s holiday.”

  As if.

  At the words examine this body, all the awkwardness and anxiety faded from her eyes, and she turned toward him.

  “What kind of body is it that you’re so excited about?”

  “A local archaeologist just unearthed an iron coffin that may contain the well-preserved body of a female from the mid-1800s.”

  “A body that’s a hundred and fifty years old?” Excitement bloomed across her face.

  “Possibly. Apparently, she’s so well-preserved that local authorities think she’s more recently deceased.”

  “As in within the last week,” Dexter interjected.

  “Bodhi, you’ll recall I have experience with unusual methods of preserving and disposing of corpses.”

  He nodded. It was true. She did. “The turkey vulture men case.”

  “That’s right,” Fred chimed in. “She figured out those bodies had been buried for a year before they were dug up and picked clean. You ought to go, honey.”

  “Hmm … well, it sounds like more fun than hanging around a spa.”

  Jenny pursed her lips skeptically.

  “Amen to that,” said Bette.

  Bodhi took a moment to wonder how many women shared his current and former girlfriends’ views of spa treatments but quickly turned his attention back to the more pressing issue. Eliza looked like a kid in a candy store, Dexter was sporting a satisfied grin, Jenny was trying to make herself invisible, and Fred and Bette, well, they were behaving like perfectly reasonable adult human beings. He just needed to act like one, too.

  “It would be great to have Dr. Rollins’ expertise—and her company, of course,” he managed weakly.

  “Atta boy.” Dexter pounded him on the back with such vigor that he nearly knocked his beer from his grasp. “I’ve already set it up. The coffin is right next door at the Rutherford Museum. Give your names to the guard anytime after seven a.m., and they’ll let you in. Then you all can do whatever it is you need to do.”

  “Are you still an early riser, Eliza?” Bodhi asked.

  “Not as early as you,” she said with a faint smile. “But I can be there at seven on the dot.”

  “Good enough.” He turned toward Dexter. “Chief, I want to be transparent. To examine the corpse, Eliza and I will need to remove her from the coffin. I have no way of knowing how quickly she might disintegrate once she’s exposed to air—assuming she is, in fact, from the mid-1800s. It really would be best if the archaeologist who found her could assist with that.”

  Dexter shook his head. “I’m not worried about it, son. I’m telling you that girl’s not been dead longer than a week.”

  Bodhi exchanged looks with Eliza. He could read hers clearly, and she was thinking the same thing he was: We’ll see.

  9

  Washington, March 18, 1871

  My Queen,

  For that’s what you are, love, you are the queen of my heart. I serve freedom, and education, and equality, it is true. But these pale next to you.

  Just yesterday, the chamber had a long session. The gentlemen argued and debated, great passions inflamed, and the excitement rose, heating our cheeks. It was good work, love. Hard, good work. But I wonder if it is work that merits keeping me from your side, from the side of our young people d
oing their own hard, good work as they labor over their letters and their sums?

  I banish these thoughts when they creep into my mind. I take a long walk along the river or find a table at the library and read the wisdom of the Founders.

  But, without fail, the doubts float back in at night in my chamber. If I could have you in my arms and at my side, how different my service for Alabama would be! It would be softer, fuller, and brighter.

  When the Congress adjourns its business, I plan to travel home to check on the school and visit my family. I hear from the gentlemen that it will be in the latter part of April.

  Will we use the same signal? Tie a red sash around the young black cherry tree on my cousin Jonah’s farm to let me know it is safe, and I will come to you when I can.

  Until then, yes, I must implore you to take great care. The reports of violence against the Carpetbaggers and my freed brothers and sisters worry me deeply. Do not think that those who oppose equality and freedom will hesitate because of who you are. Indeed, a gentleman from Mississippi tells me a teacher from Ohio was whipped and run out of his town.

  Be brave, yes, but be cautious, my Queen. Do not let your fiery heart burst from those tender lips unchecked.

  I am, always, yours,

  I.M.B.

  Bodhi found a quiet corner of the boisterous reception room, leaned against the wall, and tapped out a quick text to let Davina know they were both right. Chief Dexter had made arrangements for him to examine the body, and no, she was not permitted to accompany him.

  He was slipping his phone back into his pocket when Bette strolled up and nudged him in the ribs. “Texting your girlfriend?” she said with a laugh.

  Despite her light tone, Bodhi’s gut tightened. “No, I was letting the archaeologist know that I was successful in getting access to the corpse.”

  She blinked at him. “Bodhi, I’m joking.”

  “I’m sorry. I just—" He let out a sigh.

  “Your old flame’s here, and it’s got you on edge.”