Part 36 (2/2)

Sam sighed, but without any real rancor, and perhaps a hint of relief. It was really hard work. The more help the better.

”I'll call the farm,” he said, ”tell them you're with me and Zach.” Sam pa.s.sed over his shovel. ”Here. You want to work. Get to it.”

Raul grinned, making another ugly face in the eerie lights. ”Thanks, Sam.”

”I'd save my thanks until later,” Sam warned as he hoisted himself up through the floor.

Zach took Elizabeth's shovel out of her hand. ”Take a break. Let Pete dig for a while.”

Pete smiled as he gripped the shovel. He was Raul's best friend, shorter than the beefy young Hispanic, thinner, a wiry youth with dark eyes and friendly smile. His black hair was short, flat on the top and combed upward, not radically, which wasn't allowed at Teen Vision, but neat and stylish.

As the shovel left her fingers, Elizabeth couldn't help an inward sigh of relief. Her hands were hurting and sweat trickled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She wasn't used to manual labor. And she could start digging again a little later.

They traded off after that, four men on, working two grid squares, the others resting or getting something cold to drink. When the cold drinks ran out, they switched to water, which tasted delicious after the dirty, backbreaking labor.

By midnight they were all getting discouraged.

They had covered nearly the entire top half of the grid, but found nothing of interest. Each time a grid square was exposed, Sam ran the detector over it, hoping to pick up a clue of some kind. So far, there hadn't been any new sounds, nothing but a few more nails that had worked their way deeper into the soil.

Of all the men, Miguel seemed to be working the hardest. He refused to trade off with anyone and simply continued to dig, working like a madman.

The thought made Elizabeth uneasy. She kept seeing an image of Jack Nicholson in The s.h.i.+ning. Any minute she expected Miguel to grin and leer, ”Heeere's Johnnie.”

Instead he just kept digging.

”You need to take a break,” Zach said to him, having a similar thought.

”Not yet.” Miguel tossed out another shovelful of dirt, then plunged his shovel into the ground for another. When the square was complete, Sam ran the metal detector over the dirt and this time picked up a pinging sound from the machine. It came from the far left corner of the square and everyone's attention focused there.

”I'll get the hand rake and trowel.” Zach went for the tool, then returned and jumped into the hole. Bending down, he carefully raked the dirt away from whatever it was they had found. It was buried deep. He used the trowel to dig down, then used the rake again. Something clinked. He pulled up a piece of metal, but couldn't make out what it was.

Moving over to the bank of lights, he held it out in his palm. ”It looks like some kind of medallion, maybe a military medal of some kind.”

”Can you make out the writing?” Sam asked.

”Looks like some other language.”

Ben came over to look. ”I think it's military, all right. You said the old house was built here during the war.”

”That's right.”

Whatever it was, it didn't look like a clue to finding the body they were searching for. Setting the rusty old medal aside, tired and discouraged, everyone went back to work.

Thirty.

The heat and the closed-in s.p.a.ce finally got to him. Zach gave up and took off his s.h.i.+rt. His back ached from the bent-over working position and sweat covered his face, neck and torso. He'd known it was a crazy idea, finding the body of a ghost, but over the course of the past few weeks, he had actually come to believe they would find the little girl, Carrie Ann Whitt, buried under the house.

Inwardly, he cursed, called himself an idiot and a fool. There were no such things as ghosts. This was all just some crazy series of coincidences. He had half a dozen people down here breaking their backs and for what?

A big fat zero, no doubt.

He hefted another shovelful of dirt. With so many people working, they had covered more than three quarters of the grid squares on his printed plan. Everyone was hot and sweaty, tired and wis.h.i.+ng this was over. But no one was willing to quit until they had covered every inch of ground under the house.

He was working again with Liz, though he had argued with her about it. He didn't want her down here busting her a.s.s for nothing. He couldn't believe he had actually convinced himself they were going to find a body down here.

”Hey, Zach. What's that G.o.d-awful smell?” It was Sam, glancing around and oddly sniffing the air.

For the first time he noticed it. Not the foul, unmistakable odor of a rotting body. A thirty-six-year-old corpse would be decayed well past that stage. Instead the odor was heavy, cloying. Such a nauseating smell it made the bile rise up in his throat.

”Roses ” Liz said, looking across at him, a trace of fear creeping into her eyes.

”Smells awful,” Ben said. ”Like a decaying compost pile, only worse. And kind of sickening-sweet.”

Miguel made a kind of hissing sound in his throat. ”I have smelled it before.”

So had Zach. The night he had come with Liz to the house.

”Maybe they're doing something to get ready for the Rose Festival,” Sam said hopefully. ”It starts next week.”

Liz looked at Sam and shook her head. ”She's here ” Her gaze darted around the tight s.p.a.ce beneath the house. ”The smell comes whenever she appears.”

Ignoring the nauseating odor and the conviction he heard in her voice, Zach jammed his shovel into the dirt, more irritated than ever. But instead of the blade sinking in, he felt a sharp jolt of resistance.

He tried again, more gently this time, felt an object beneath the blade.

”You find something?” Sam moved toward him beneath the floor joists as Zach jumped the two feet down into the square they had nearly finished digging.

”Hand me the hand rake and trowel.” Kneeling in the dirt, he took the garden tools Sam handed him while the others moved toward him, forming a group around the edge of the hole. Liz stood above him, her face gone pale in the eerie glow of the lights.

Raul moved one of the light poles into a better position, fully illuminating the grid square, while Zach carefully began using the trowel, digging around the area where the shovel had hit, then using the rake to clear some of the dirt away.

”This is weird,” Ben said, glancing around. ”How can it be getting cold in here?”

Goose b.u.mps rose across Zach's bare chest. How, indeed? he thought, remembering the night he had spent in the house, remembering what he'd read about cold spots and beginning to feel as uneasy as Liz. Around the hole, it wasn't just cold, it was freezing. Zach ignored it and continued to dig.

”Can you tell what it is?” Raul asked, leaning over the hole, looking a little uneasy himself.

”Can't tell yet.” But little by little, the object began to appear, something dark that looked like a piece of rotten leather. There was something underneath it. ”Toss me the brush.”

Pete went to get it, brought it back and handed it to Zach. Cl.u.s.tered around the square on their hands and knees, everyone watched as Zach used the trowel, rake and brush to uncover more and more of what lay buried in the earth.

”What is it?” Ben asked.

Ignoring the freezing temperature and the sight of his breath in the lights, Zach dug a little more, brushed the dirt away, and uncovered a square piece of metal that rose above what appeared to be a hunk of rotten black leather.

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