"I'm hoping these will help me identify that skeleton." He dangled the shield on the chain, watching it catch the light. "His family needs closure."
"Oh." Guilt punched through me. I'd been so certain he'd taken them for himself. "Well, maybe that H will give you some clues."
He captured the shield, turning it over in his palm. "Maybe. Though I have a feeling this jewelry is why he was killed." His voice went harder. "Greed is a bloody evil emotion."
I studied him, silently willing him to elaborate. The fire crackled. The darkness pressed in around us, deepening with each passing minute.
"Did you know about Doug's debts?" Mitch asked, rolling the massive diamond around his palm. "How much trouble he was in?"
I shook my head. "No. I didn't even know he had a daughter.” I tucked my hair behind my ear. "Do you really think he would've killed us?"
Mitch let out a heavy breath and was quiet for a long moment, turning the diamond over in his fingers. "I think he'd crossed a line he couldn't come back from."
"Jesus." I replayed those final moments, seeing the wild look in Doug's eyes. "He was actually going to kill us." The reality of it settled over me like ice water. "I still can't believe it."
"He'd been acting weird since the moment I met him." Mitch ran his hand over his beard. "Paranoid. Aggressive as hell."
"Yeah. He'd been acting weird for days. Since we set up our site, actually."
"Maybe because he knew he didn't have a permit to be here." Mitch shrugged.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you about that."
He cocked his head, studying me. His light green eyes were so unusual, like early morning mist. "I think you did believe me."
I let out a breath. "Yeah, I did. But before that, I honestly thought we had permission to be here. Doug told me everything was arranged."
"Seems like he had a lot of secrets."
"Yeah. Like you." The words escaped before I could stop them, and the instant they left my mouth, I wanted to yank them back.
Mitch went still. Then, shaking his head, he swept the jewels back into the pouch and pulled the drawstring tight.
"Sorry," I blurted. "I didn't mean it in a bad way."
"Really?" He shifted his weight, and I had the feeling he wished my legs weren't across his lap.
"Yes, really. When I asked you about the lighter, you gave me half an answer." I hesitated but pushed forward anyway. "There's a reason you keep it, isn't there?"
As he stared at the fire, flames danced in his eyes. The muscle in his jaw worked as if he were trying to swallow down a secret that was eating at him.
The air grew colder, and I gathered my hair over one shoulder, though it did nothing to warm me. I lifted my legs off his lap and carefully planted my feet flat on the ground, hyperaware of keeping my raw heels clean.
Mitch reached up and grabbed his torn shirt from the branch above us. He held it out to me. "Put your feet on that." The look in his eyes told me that refusing wasn't an option.
I took it from him, folded it over, and placed it beneath my feet. "Thanks."
He turned back to the fire.
The flames crackled and popped, warming my front while my back grew colder. An icy dampness crept up my spine, settling deep into my bones. But the silence settling over us felt worse than the gathering cold. I wished I'd never pushed him. It was obvious he had no intention of responding.
"So," I said, scrambling for another topic. "I guess your dad and siblings must be going out of their minds, wondering where you are?"
A low groan rumbled from Mitch's throat.
"What?" I frowned. Shit. It looked as though I'd hit another taboo subject.
Mitch rolled his eyes. "You don't give up, do you?"