A shadow swept across the pit floor. I looked up. Those clouds were rolling in fast and black. We needed tarps over these bones now, but when Doug grabbed a brush from my kit without asking, I squatted, too. No way was I leaving him alone with my find. The earthy scent of sunbaked sediment mingled with the artificial bite of his cheap deodorant.
He swept debris from a rib bone bigger than my whole leg. "This is incredible."
"I know." My voice came out tight. "When I uncovered that Australovenator skull, I thought I was?—"
"We need to catalog everything," Doug cut in, scanning the pit. "See how deep these layers go." He turned toward me, smiling as if he'd just scored the final goal in a game he barely played, and placed his hand on my shoulder. "I knew this site would be a winner."
I stiffened. "Really? You never told me you believed this site would be a success." I shrugged off his touch.
"Of course, I did. Back in Brisbane. I fought to get this dig off the ground for us."
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to say you fought for the credit, not for me.
After years of lectures, late-night research, and a string of failed field trips that had given me nothing but sunburn, blisters and more debt, I'd wanted this. Needed it. And now he was going to take it from me just like Marcus Webb had.
"We make a great team, Charlie." He flashed his signature grin. White teeth, fake confidence, cologne-commercial charm I used to find attractive. Before the late-night "mentoring" sessions. Before the too-long shoulder squeezes and lingering eye contact. Before I realized his help came with strings and expectations I had no intention of tying myself to.
Doug wasn't stupid. Arrogant? Yes. Entitled? Absolutely. Predatory? Without question. But not stupid. He knew exactly how far to lean over the line without tipping.
He stood and brushed the red dust from his hands like he'd actually done some digging. I rose, too, and forced my expression to be neutral before I said exactly what I was burning to say.
"I'll grab my kit." He ran his hand through his perfectly styled salt-and-pepper hair in a move straight out of a goddamn shampoo commercial.
"Doug, we need to protect this site from the rain." I pointed at the black clouds that were getting darker by the second.
"These bones aren't going anywhere. I want to catalog the bone dispersion, see how deep these layers go. I think our discovery might eclipse South Australia's."
Our discovery?
"You mean my discovery," I blurted before I could censor myself.
He blinked. "Pardon?"
I gestured to the scatter of bones around us. "This is my find."
He laughed, a patronizing, you'll-learn-someday kind of laugh that made my skin crawl. "Come on, Charlie. We're a team. Without me and the funding I secured, we wouldn't be here."
My jaw ached from clenching.
"Yes, I understand that," I said, keeping the anger out of my voice by sheer force of will. "But I chose this site. You haven't even gotten your kit bag out or dug a single layer since we got here. I uncovered these specimens. At least give me credit for that."
He tilted his head, smile turning smug. "Out here, it's not about who finds the first bone. It's about how we combine our resources to uncover specimens as good as these."
"Doug." I planted my hands on my hips to steady the tremble. "You've spent the last six days in the air-conditioned site office, napping, emailing, and doing God knows what. Why can't you just acknowledge that I discovered this?"
He chuckled and patted my shoulder again. "You've got passion, I'll give you that. But you still have a lot to learn."
He turned and headed for the ladder. "I'll be back in a minute. Start brushing that skull over there," he added, pointing as if this was his classroom. "When I return, I want to see if you can identify the species." He climbed out of the pit.
My heart pounded, my teeth ached from clenching, and my fists were so tight my short fingernails dug into my flesh. I felt as if I'd just been robbed in broad daylight. Every part of me burned with anger and adrenaline. This was my discovery. Not his. Or the university's. Not anyone's. Mine.
I wanted my name in the history books. Not tucked into a footnote as "research assistant" or "junior member of the team."
Just my name.
But if Doug kept this up, I'd be lucky to get a mention at all.
Overhead, thunder cracked across the sky, and the sound echoed down the pit walls like a warning.