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“A note dated 1977 also came with the bones.” I picked up the yellow piece of paper that I’d set on the worktable. “It says, ‘These bones were found outside a library in Columbia, Missouri, when the foundation for a new wing was being dug. No one was called. We just put them away.’ ”

“1864, 1977?”

I nodded. “I don’t know who put the 1864 there or how that happened exactly, but if you look at the ends of the bones, you can see how crudely the limbs were cut from the bodies.”

“Oh.” Sonny examined the end of the femur. “I see. So, what does all that mean?”

“Considering all the clues, I think that the church was used as a makeshift hospital during the Civil War. The limbs were cut off and thrown out a window to make a pile that was eventually buried. Again, I don’t understand how one was retrieved and written upon, but there have always been people who thought it was wise to record events along the way. I think the bones were found and boxed in the 1970s, in preparation for the new construction.”

Sonny looked at me. “Whoa. Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve read about such a thing.”

Sonny set the femur back into the box. He pushed up his glasses and peered inside at the old remains. “That’s sad and interesting, and … I don’t know. I feel like more should be done for them.”

I nodded. “I know the feeling.” I paused. I hadn’t become jaded in my job, but I had become more accepting of the need to find answers and then keep going, be ready for the next mystery. “But maybe giving them this moment is good. We don’t know who they fought for, but maybe we can thank them for following their heart and fighting for whatever they believed.”

Sonny nodded and smiled at me, though it was a sad expression. “I can do that.”

A moment later, I said, “Okay, I have a favor.”

“Anything.”

“It’s a big favor, maybe more than I should ask.”

“No such thing.”

There could be no argument that we’d become close very quickly, and me getting injured was one of the reasons we’d spent so much of the last few days together. Maybe once I healed and we both got back to our regularly scheduled jobs, things would change. Maybe we didn’t like each other as much as it seemed we did.

Though some might live in fear of people leaving them after their father disappeared like mine had, instead I’d somehow learned to enjoy what I could of the ride, and not be too worried about when it might change directions. I’d become resilient, I guess, even if I didn’t quite realize it myself.

“Good. Could you drive me somewhere?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks. I’ll tell you about it on the way.”

“That works.”

I put the bones away and tapped the top of the box. It wasn’t much, but it was my tiny way of sending respect to the people they’d once been a part of.

We made our way out of the lab, through the museum, and out the front door. I couldn’t help double-checking the deadbolt Sonny had installed.

CHAPTER

37

I KNOCKED ON THE door.

“No one home?” Sonny asked a few moments of silence later.

“Maybe not.” I knocked again.

David finally answered.

“Hazel. I heard about your adventures. Are you okay?” There was not a hint of snark in his tone, which surprised me.

“I’m fine.”