Page 4 of Colorado Christmas Carol

“This nice man knows where there are some ancient ruins outside town,” Essa said when the other two remained silent. “I took two classes in archaeology.”

“They’re probably just Woodland ruins,” Dean told him easily. “But they are interesting.”

“You know about archaeology?” Duke asked abruptly.

“Yes. Dean Sutter,” he held out a hand and the men shook. “I do forensic anthropology for a private foundation that deals with law enforcement.”

Duke’s eyebrows arched. “Heavy stuff.”

“Yes, it is,” Dean replied. “It’s sort of a cop-out profession,” he added self-consciously. “I don’t like blood and guts. Mostly what I deal with are skeletons. I sleep better.” He chuckled.

“I had a few courses in forensics myself,” Duke replied. “So I gather you’re here for the workshop?”

Dean nodded. “I’m particularly interested in the reconstruction artist’s work. I saw a documentary that featured her. She’s very good.”

“Coincidentally, I know her,” Duke said. “And yes, she is. Very good.” He glanced at his daughter. “You really want to go dig up old artifacts?” he asked. “In the snow?” he added, because it was coming down.

Mellie’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes!”

“It’s a recent construction site,” Dean explained, “or they certainly wouldn’t be out in this. And they have a very limited time for the dig. I understand that the construction site manager is raising Cain daily about the delay.”

“I hear that.”

Duke glanced at Essa, his eyes narrowing. It caused an odd sensation in her nervous system, and she lowered her gaze quickly. “I guess you want to go, too?” he probed.

“I would like to,” she stammered, glancing at Dean and smiling. He smiled back, apparently fascinated.

“Okay, Mellie,” Duke said. “If she goes,” he indicated Essa with a shoulder lift, “you can go. But I want to know when you leave and when you’ll be back. And make sure your damned cell phone is charged this time, so I won’t have to send out search parties!”

“It was just the once, Daddy,” Mellie defended herself.

“You got lost in Chicago,” he muttered. “There are places in the city where you could vanish in a heartbeat and never be found. And your battery was dead!”

“A very nice policeman rescued me,” the child protested. “And drove me all the way home.”

“Lucky,” he replied, “for you!”

She grimaced.

“So we don’t want a repeat of that, right?” he persisted.

“Absolutely not,” she agreed.

“And especially we don’t want to have Destiny 2, and the Xbox both taken away for two weeks again?”

Mellie stood up and crossed her heart. “Oh, no, we don’t!”

“Destiny 2?” Essa was all at sea.

“It’s the best video game on the planet,” Dean said before Mellie could reply. “I loved Destiny 1. I still play it, in fact, but Destiny 2 is out of this world.”

“And Starfield is coming soon!” Mellie added.

Dean chuckled. “I know. I preordered it.”

She grinned. “I’m hoping I might get it for Christmas,” she hinted, glancing at her somber dad. “But I have to have the new Xbox model to play it,” she added sadly, with another pointed look at her parent.

“We can talk about that later.” Duke checked his watch. “I have phone calls to make. You through with breakfast?” he asked his daughter.

“Yes, sir.” She stood up. “It was delicious,” she told Essa.

“Thanks,” she replied. “But Mabel cooks breakfast. She’s talented!”

“I’ll say!” Mellie added.

“We can go tomorrow after the last workshop, if you two are agreeable,” Dean suggested. “About four o’clock?” he added. “And we’ll be back here about six.”

“That works,” Duke said.

“Okay. I’ll see you both then,” Dean said, smiling.

When he was out of earshot, Duke glanced at Essa. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said curtly, and displayed it.

“Charged?” he purred.

She flushed. “I’ve been cooking . . .”

“Be sure you charge it before tomorrow afternoon,” he interrupted.

She glared at him. “I do not need a keeper!” she raged.

“Fat chance,” he muttered, glowering. “I’d rather keep rats.”

She started to speak, but he’d already gone toward the door after motioning for his daughter to follow him.

Essa watched them go. If looks could have wounded, that big, blond man would have been looking for medical assistance!

* * *

The next day Essa had her phone charged and ready by four, and since it was a slow day and Mabel was willing to cover for her, she had two hours free.

“But I absolutely must be back by six,” she told Dean as she slid into the passenger seat of his modest car, with an excited Mellie in back. “Mabel can’t do meats like I can,” she added with a chuckle.

“I promise I’ll have you back here in two hours,” Dean said, and smiled at her as he pulled out of the parking space and onto the highway.

“Okay. And thanks for taking us with you,” she said excitedly. “I love anything to do with forensics!”

“It’s been a hobby of mine for several years,” Dean said. “I love detective work. I suppose it comes from watching too many Sherlock Holmes movies and TV shows.”

“Me, too.” Essa chuckled. “But I read true-crime books, also.”

“So do I,” he confessed.

He was a good driver. He didn’t blow up if people pulled out in front of him abruptly, and two did, and he was calm and collected at the wheel.

“You drive really well,” Essa commented. “Much better than I do.”

“And you don’t cuss like Daddy does when people do stupid things,” Mellie gurgled.

He laughed softly. “I was taught by my stepmother.” His face tightened. “She was a perfectionist in everything. Nothing could ever be out of place, even in a drawer.”

“Did you have siblings?” Essa asked gently.

He took a long breath. “A brother. He had . . . they said he had health issues. He died when he was only three.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

He didn’t reply. He seemed to be in the grip of some terrible memory. Essa felt sorry for him. He was a nice person, and it was terribly obvious that his stepmother had been a bad parent. She hoped that his dad had been kinder to him.

“What are we going looking for?” she asked, hoping to remove that expression from his face.

“Oh!” He laughed self-consciously. “Sorry. It’s a bad idea to recall bad memories.”

“I know what you mean,” Essa said. “I lost both my parents at once, when I was twenty. It was such a good thing that I could cook! I never run out of job opportunities, even in a bad economy. There isn’t a hotel or restaurant in the world that doesn’t need cooks!”

He laughed. “Well, certainly not. Although I might not have realized that.”

“It’s small beans compared to being able to date ancient artifacts,” she replied easily. “I’m so grateful that you’re taking us with you! This is an adventure!”

He glanced at her to see if it was a sarcastic remark, because he’d grown used to them over the years.

But it obviously wasn’t. She was flushed with excitement, almost vibrating with it.

So was his young passenger in the back seat.

He felt . . . odd. New. Different. It was like something shifted inside him, all at once.

He smiled, too. Then he laughed. “I guess you’re right. It is like an adventure.”

“Exactly,” Essa said. “I can’t wait!”

He was amazed to discover that he couldn’t, either. He took a long breath and felt reborn.

* * *

The site was on a hill, and there were several people working there already. Dean led his companions to the man who was obviously in charge. They shook hands.

“I hope you won’t mind two observers,” Dean added after greeting Professor Blake. “They’re fascinated with forensics, and we do have at least one physical artifact here.”

“We found two more this morning”—Blake chuckled—“and we’ll be grateful for your expertise in identifying them. Your companions are more than welcome.” He greeted them. “Dean will tell you what you’re not allowed to do,” he teased.

Essa grinned. “Thanks! This is so exciting!”

The professor sighed. “I wish my students were so enthusiastic,” he said in a confidential tone.

“One woman is upset because her manicure is being destroyed by the work, and another is furious because I asked her to stay off her cell phone while we’re working.

She reminded me that it’s the holidays.” He shook his head.

“Another one is posting everything we find on her social media accounts, with emojis of reindeer, which has led to at least one indigenous group threatening litigation! Times have changed.”

“Oh, yes, they have. But you can be confident that we won’t post any confidential information,” Essa assured him. She smiled. “I don’t have any social media accounts of my own. I just live on YouTube, watching animal videos.”

The professor chuckled. “So does my wife.”

“I like the funny ones,” Mellie said. “And especially the ones about Belgian Malinois. Did you know they can actually run across full swimming pools and even climb trees?!”

“Yes, I did,” Professor Blake told her. “My wife and I have one. He’s smarter than we are. But he doesn’t climb trees,” he added.

“I had a dog once,” Dean murmured, but he quickly turned away, looking for the new dig site.

His companions excused themselves and followed him. Essa was getting vibrations about Dean. She’d been ultrasensitive all her life to other peoples’ emotions and to sound and light. It caused issues from time to time. She sensed that there were horrible things in Dean’s past.

“Here it is,” he called to the others, and motioned. He got down into the pit and studied the skull and partial skeleton with keen eyes.

“Okay,” he told the student who’d just mapped the site and was waiting for input on its skeletal remains. “Male—note the brow ridges—and likely Native American”—he had the skull in his hands and was noting the dentition—“due to the presence of shovel-shaped incisors.”