Dead on the Fourth of July (David Dean Mysteries)

"Is he the gold-digger?" she asked.

"In a manner of speaking, but not the gold-digger bitch." He detailed his pre-dinner conversation with Paul Dawkins.

"It does look like a finger," Cynthia said as she examined the bone. "It's very small," adding, "maybe a little finger or a ring finger. It's kind of spooky knowing that's a part of a human being. But at least it proves Fitzgerald's bones were a replacement." She gave a shiver and handed it back to Dean. He placed the bone atop Cynthia's jewelry box on their bureau and climbed into bed.

"I'm not sure it truly proves anything," Dean answered. "I didn't find it in the same spot-it was down the tunnel. We're not even sure it's human. And it's not a body-only one small bone. Someone could make a case for it being left over from some long-ago industrial accident. Maybe some miner lost his finger and when they rushed him to a doctor the severed piece was lost."

Cynthia shuddered. "That's a gruesome thought-and disappointing, too. I'd hate to think we spent that awful morning with no results."

"The bone means something to us. I'm just playing the devil's advocate, from a legal point of view. I'm going to find out if it's human. I promised Martha we'd follow through and I will." Another reminder the child hadn't called.

"There must be some record of the man. People don't just turn up missing without causing a search."

"Fred's father did," Dean reminded her.

She smiled. "Everything about Fred is an exception. But even old Mr. O'Connor at least had a name. Well, now that you have a time frame and a first name, that's a start."

"Whatever happened occurred forty years ago. Chasing it down might prove difficult, even for Fred and his history-loving lady friends."

"It's been a day," she sighed as she reached for the light. "Whoever's bone it is, I'm just glad we had faith enough in Martha to believe what she found. I only wish she'd call so we could tell her."

Dean resolved to try once more in the morning to get word to her. He missed the small girl and her shy smile a hundred times a day.