Wyatt wasn’t sure what to make of it, but the exchange between them had stuck with him. Was the note about Jo? Was Kevin involved in something he hadn’t told anyone? What did Bridget have to do with it? He watched as Kevin walked over to help Sam with the ladder, his face tight with concentration, but Wyatt could see the tension in his movements. He was holding something back.
Wyatt shook the thoughts from his head, snapping another shot of the scene. Who was he to judge? He had his own secrets, things he hadn’t shared with anyone. Secrets he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to talk about.
Subtly, Wyatt pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen. He did it quickly, keeping the movement out of view of the others. No messages. Not from his mom, at least.
The last text she’d sent had been two days ago—a vague, guilt-laden message about needing money and how she “wasn’t doing too good.” He had ignored it. He didn’t want to deal with her right now. Not after everything. But it had been eating at him ever since.
He couldn’t ignore her forever.
Sam’s voice pulled him back to the scene. “Wyatt, we need to rig the pulley. Let’s get these bones up without damaging anything.”
Wyatt moved to help Kevin, who was already securing the ladder into place, his movements quick and deliberate. Wyatt could feel the tension rolling off him—something more than the gruesome task of retrieving the bones.
“You all right?” Wyatt asked casually, his eyes on Kevin as they set up the pulley system.
Kevin gave a stiff nod, barely glancing at him. “Yeah. Just want to get this done.”
Wyatt didn’t push. He turned back to the well, watching as John Dudley directed the process. It was delicate work—noting the placement of everything before pulling the bones out carefully. Dudley wasalready snapping pictures from above, cataloging the position of each bone before they began the slow process of extraction.
“This skeleton’s old,” Dudley muttered as he knelt near the edge of the well. “Can’t say how long it’s been down there yet, but it’s not recent. Not by a long shot.”
Wyatt stepped back, watching as Kevin and Sam carefully hoisted the first set of bones out of the well. A femur, long and brittle, coated in dirt and rot. They moved slowly, methodically, passing the bones to Dudley, who placed them in an evidence bag with the kind of reverence usually reserved for the dead.
The process took time, each bone hauled up inch by inch, Wyatt’s camera clicking every few minutes to capture the scene.
Finally, the last piece of the skeleton was pulled out—a cracked skull, yellowed and worn from years underground. The empty eye sockets stared up at Wyatt, hollow and silent, as if waiting for someone to ask the right questions.
Wyatt’s grip tightened on his camera as he snapped another picture. This wasn’t just a random body. This was connected to something bigger—Garvin, Convale, maybe even Marnie. And whatever it was, it was about to get a lot more complicated.
Dudley took a final set of picturesand stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “We’ll get this to the lab, run the tests. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
Sam nodded, his eyes fixed on the skull. “Let’s hope this gives us some answers.”
Wyatt wasn’t sure it would. Every new discovery seemed to raise more questions than answers. But something told him they were getting closer. And that wasn’t always a good thing.
As the others began packing up, Wyatt’s gaze drifted back to Kevin and Bridget. Kevin was staring at the ground, lost in thought, while Bridget hugged Pickles to her chest, her face tight with worry. Whatever secret they were keeping, Wyatt was sure it wasn’t going to stay hidden for long.
And neither would his.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“Definitely male,” Wyatt said, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned against the wall, his shadow stretching across the squad room in the fading afternoon light. “Probably mid-thirties, give or take. But here’s the kicker—John Dudley said there were scraps of fabric with the body. Decayed, but it looks like part of a suit.”
“A suit?” Reese’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp with disbelief. She sat perched on the edge of her desk, coffee mug in hand, her eyes narrowing as she processed the detail. “That doesn’t scream accidental fall down a well to me.”
“No wallet, no ID,” Wyatt added, tossing a photo onto the table. “Whoever this guy was, someone went out of their way to make sure he stayed a John Doe.”
Sam sat at his desk, leaning forward, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on the corkboard as if it held the answer. The room felt heavy, the weight of too many unsolved mysteries pressing down on all of them. Lucy lay quietly at his feet, her ears twitching.
“No DNA,” Wyatt continued, his tone grim. “Nothing left to work with, and dental records aren’t going to do us any good unless we figure out who this guy was and where he got his dental work done first. Dudley says even that’s a long shot as most dentists that practiced decades ago would be retired and records purged.”
Sam rubbed his jaw, the knot of frustration tightening. “No ID, no DNA, no dental records.” His voice was low, measured, but there was an edge to it. “Any luck with missing persons?”
“Already started the search,” Reese said, setting her mug down. “But so far, nothing that matches. It’s been decades, Sam. Whoever this guy was, someone went to a lot of trouble to erase him.”
Wyatt pointed to the photo on the table, his expression grim. The faded pinstripes on the deteriorated fabric were just visible, a faint echo of what must have once been an expensive suit. “Dudley’s best guess? This guy was dressed to impress—probablysomeone important or at least someone trying to look the part.”
Sam studied the image, his mind flashing back to a conversation with Mick months ago. Late-night talks about White Rock’s buried secrets, the whispers that never made it past the town line.