Page 19 of Buried Secrets

“One step at a time,” she advised. A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched the technicians continue their methodical work across the site. The afternoon had begun to fade, a cool breeze blowing in from the ocean.

Dr. Haddad checked her watch. “I should get back to it if we want to finish documentation on site three before losing the light.”

She hesitated, then added casually, “I’ll be here through the weekend at least. Was thinking of trying that seafood place in town tonight—The Saltwater, I think it’s called? Unless you’d recommend somewhere else.”

The invitation was subtle but unmistakable, delivered with enough professional distance that declining wouldn’t create awkwardness.

“The Saltwater has decent food, but it’s closed for the season,” Matt replied carefully. “Maurice at the Harbor Inn makes a better chowder.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She turned to go, then paused. “Actually, would you like to join me? Around seven? Might be useful to discuss next steps for the investigation.”

When subtly didn’t work, try clarity—a tactic Matt respected. Under normal circumstances, he maintained clear boundaries between his professional and personal life. But Dr. Haddad was a visiting expert, not someone under his jurisdiction or directly in his chain of command. And discussing the case over dinner would be professional, not personal.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Seven works,” he found himself saying. “I can meet you there.”

She smiled, a quick expression that transformed her serious features. “Perfect. I’ll see you then, Sheriff.”

As she returned to the excavation, Matt wondered if he’d made the right call. The last thing he needed was complications. There were enough on his plate already.

The afternoon continued with the careful processing and quiet efficiency as daylight gradually faded. At six thirty, Matt called it a day, instructing the overnight security to maintain the perimeter around the excavation sites. They’d had a few curious onlookers, and he didn’t want to jeopardize the case.

After a quick stop at his house to shower and change into clean clothes, dark jeans and a navy button down that wasn’t his uniform but wasn’t exactly casual either, Matt headed into town.

Dr. Haddad was already seated at a corner table when he arrived, wearing a simple black dress that looked far more elegant than anything anyone else wore in the restaurant. Her hair was down, falling in dark waves past her shoulders, and she’d exchanged her practical work boots for low heels.

“Sheriff,” she greeted him as he approached. “Glad you could make it.”

“Matt,” he corrected, taking the seat across from her.

“Samira, then.” She gave a small smile. “Though I’m never entirely off duty.”

“An occupational hazard we share,” Matt acknowledged.

A waiter appeared with water and menus, rattling off the evening’s specials with practiced enthusiasm. After he departed, Samira leaned back in her chair, studying Matt with the same careful attention she’d given the excavation sites.

“So,” she said, “how long have you been sheriff here?”

“Three years, deputy for six before that,” Matt replied, grateful for the neutral territory.

“Island native?”

“Born and raised. Fourth generation, actually. My great-grandfather was a lighthouse keeper here.”

Samira nodded. “That explains a lot.”

“Does it?” Matt raised an eyebrow.

“You’re part of the island’s fabric.”

The observation was perceptive, catching Matt slightly off guard. “It has advantages and disadvantages,” he admitted. “I know everyone’s history, but they also know mine.”

He felt a shock after saying those words. It was very apparent they were no longer true. Because someone had killed three people and buried their bodies.

“I grew up in a similar environment, though in northern Michigan rather than coastal Maine.”

“What drew you to forensic anthropology?” Matt asked, genuinely curious.