Page 17 of Buried Secrets

Her dark hair was pulled back, the clean line of her profile visible as she bent over her work. She handled the aged documents with careful reverence, a professional’s touch. Whatever her true reasons for being here, she clearly knew what she was doing with the historical materials.

Matt continued down the corridor until he found Amy in her office studying a blue print with a concentrated frown etched onto her face.

“Amy,” he began, as he closed the door behind him. “We need to talk about the search results.”

She looked up, immediately tensing at his tone. “You found more.”

“The radar team and cadaver dog identified three locations, but two that need further investigation. Including near your cottage’s garden.”

“At my house? The garden?” Amy’s voice rose sharply, as she lost color in her face. “Are you kidding me?”

“We don’t know for certain yet,” Matt cautioned, despite the fact they basically did know for certain. “The radar found anomalies consistent with human burials, and the cadaver dog alerted at the same locations, but we won’t know for sure until we excavate.”

“Jesus Christ, Matt!” Amy pushed away from her desk, running her hands through her hair. “This place is turning into a fucking graveyard!”

“I know this is difficult.”

“Difficult?” She laughed, a brittle sound with no humor in it. “Be careful what you wish for… I thought this was a brilliant idea. Renovate a mansion… no wonder it stood empty for so long.”

Matt waited, letting her work through the initial shock. Honestly, he thought he would be feeling the same way. Heck, he was feeling the same way.

Finally, she took a deep breath, visibly collecting herself. “How many holes are we going to dig, exactly?”

“Two more, apart from Ollie’s recent discovery. One in the eastern garden, one near your cottage.”

Amy’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Not nine or ten?”

“No. They may sample a few other areas, just to be sure of what they are seeing on the radar. It’s likely root systems and such, but we want to be sure.”

“Small mercies, I guess.” She sank back into her chair. “When do you need to dig?”

“I’d like to start excavation tomorrow. We’ll be as minimally invasive as possible and restore any disturbed landscaping.”

Amy nodded, resignation replacing her initial panic. “Fine. Do what you need to do. Not like I have much choice.” She paused, then added, “Do you think that’s why the mansion stayed unused? Did someone know?”

“I know as much as you do. Nothing was ever proven, but it does make me want to go back to the old investigations.” Though Matt knew the records would be sparse, as everything from the office he inherited was.

“This whole situation is alarming,” Amy muttered.

After getting Amy’s formal permission for the excavation work, Matt headed back toward the main entrance. He’d need to coordinate with the county’s coroner team to get the proper equipment and personnel on site by morning. He also needed to draft a preliminary report for the state police and the FBI field office, documenting their findings and officially requesting additional resources.

The idea of bringing in federal agents didn’t sit well with him, having more outsiders involved. But if outside expertise would help identify these cadavers and close the case, so be it.

The thought triggered a tangential connection to Kaitlin Mathews. There would be other outsiders on the island, along with Kaitlin and her weak cover story of why she was there.

As he passed the library again, he noticed Kaitlin was still immersed in her research, unaware of what had been discovered. He let her work undisturbed. Amy would fill her in on the investigation’s findings.

Outside, the autumn afternoon had grown colder, the sky a hard, clear blue that promised frost by morning. Matt surveyed the grounds where small flags now revealed where at least three people were laid to rest, their bodies concealed beneath manicured gardens and cottage flowers, their identities and stories buried with them. It was his duty to uncover those stories, to give names back to the nameless and bring long-delayed justice. Even if it meant unearthing truths that the island might prefer to keep buried.

Afternoon sun slanted across the mansion lawns, casting long shadows over the three open pits where forensic technicians worked with meticulous precision. Four days into the investigation, the mansion grounds had transformed into an archaeological dig, complete with grid markers, sifting stations, and a temporary evidence processing tent.

Matt stood at the perimeter, reviewing the morning’s reports on his tablet while keeping one eye on the proceedings. The original discovery plus two additional sets of remains had been confirmed—three bodies altogether.

“Sheriff Winters?”

He looked up to see Dr. Samira Haddad approaching, peeling off her nitrile gloves as she ducked under the crime scene tape. The state’s contracted forensic anthropologist had arrived four days ago with her specialized equipment and quiet efficiency. In her mid-thirties, with olive skin and dark hair pulled from her face, she moved with the confident precision of someone completely at home in her expertise.

“Dr. Haddad.” Matt pocketed his phone. “Making progress?”