tightly. “One or more?”
“One at least. She’s just getting started and it’s going to take a while. Jen’s calling for her team and we’re going to get as much done as we can tonight.”
“Keep me apprised,” she ordered. “I’ll call the captain and give him the heads-up.”
“Will do.” Vito slid his phone back into his pocket.
Jen and Nick returned with the digging tools and the camera as Johannsen found the edge of the next grave. “Same length, same depth.” Twenty minutes ticked by before she looked up. “And another body. But this one doesn’t have any metal.”
“We didn’t find metal there with the detector,” Nick said.
Vito looked out over the field. “I know. That means there could be even more.”
Jen was laying plastic sheeting around the first new grave. “Take a spade, boys.”
They did, and for a while the four of them worked in silence, Johannsen marking the second plot and moving to the left to begin again, Nick, Vito, and Jen digging. Nick reached the body first. Jen leaned forward and with her small brush, removed the loose dirt from the victim’s face.
It was a man, young and blond. Decomposition was not yet advanced. He’d been handsome. “He hasn’t been dead long,” Nick said. “A week maybe.”
“If that,” Vito said. “Uncover his hands, Jen.” She did, and Vito twisted closer to get a better look at what he didn’t understand. “What the hell?”
“He’s not praying.” Nick frowned. “What
is
he doing?”
“Whatever he’s doing,” Jen said, “his hands are wired just like Jane Doe’s.”
The victim’s hands were formed into fists, both settled against his naked torso, the right above the left. The right fist was positioned level with the heart and his elbows pointed down. Both fists formed O’s. “He was holding something,” Vito said.
“A sword.” The whispered words came from above them, where Sophie Johannsen stood, her face ghostly pale under the red bandana. Her eyes were wide, horrified, and fixed on the victim. Vito had the sudden urge to pull her face against his chest, shielding her from the decomposing body.
Instead he stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “What did you say?”
She didn’t move, her eyes still fixed on the dead man.
He gave her a gentle little shake and pinched her chin, forcibly turning her face to his. “Dr. Johannsen, what did you say?”
She swallowed, then lifted her eyes, no longer bright. “He looks like an effigy.”
“An effigy,” Vito repeated. “As in ‘hung in effigy’?”
She closed her eyes, visibly steeling herself and Vito remembered that her bodies had been dead for hundreds of years. “No,” she said, her voice shaken. “As in a tomb or crypt. Many times tombs would have images of the dead carved in stone or marble. These statues would lie on their backs on top of the crypt. It’s called an effigy.”
She’d calmed herself, sounding like a teacher giving a lecture now. Vito supposed it was her way of coping. “The women usually had their hands folded like this.” She folded her hands beneath her chin, the pose identical to Jane Doe’s.
Vito glanced sharply at Nick, who nodded.
“Go on, Sophie,” Nick said quietly. “You’re doing fine.”
“But . . . but sometimes their arms were folded across their breasts.” Again she demonstrated, laying her hands flat. “Sometimes the man’s hands are folded in prayer, but sometimes he’s in full armor, holding a sword. Usually he holds the sword at his side, but sometimes the effigy was carved like this.” She balled her trembling hands into fists and laid them on her chest in exactly the way the victim’s were posed. “He’d hold the hilt of the sword in his hands and the blade would lie flat against his torso, straight down his center. It’s not as common a pose. It means he died in battle. Do you know who he is?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Someone’s son or husband,” she
“One at least. She’s just getting started and it’s going to take a while. Jen’s calling for her team and we’re going to get as much done as we can tonight.”
“Keep me apprised,” she ordered. “I’ll call the captain and give him the heads-up.”
“Will do.” Vito slid his phone back into his pocket.
Jen and Nick returned with the digging tools and the camera as Johannsen found the edge of the next grave. “Same length, same depth.” Twenty minutes ticked by before she looked up. “And another body. But this one doesn’t have any metal.”
“We didn’t find metal there with the detector,” Nick said.
Vito looked out over the field. “I know. That means there could be even more.”
Jen was laying plastic sheeting around the first new grave. “Take a spade, boys.”
They did, and for a while the four of them worked in silence, Johannsen marking the second plot and moving to the left to begin again, Nick, Vito, and Jen digging. Nick reached the body first. Jen leaned forward and with her small brush, removed the loose dirt from the victim’s face.
It was a man, young and blond. Decomposition was not yet advanced. He’d been handsome. “He hasn’t been dead long,” Nick said. “A week maybe.”
“If that,” Vito said. “Uncover his hands, Jen.” She did, and Vito twisted closer to get a better look at what he didn’t understand. “What the hell?”
“He’s not praying.” Nick frowned. “What
is
he doing?”
“Whatever he’s doing,” Jen said, “his hands are wired just like Jane Doe’s.”
The victim’s hands were formed into fists, both settled against his naked torso, the right above the left. The right fist was positioned level with the heart and his elbows pointed down. Both fists formed O’s. “He was holding something,” Vito said.
“A sword.” The whispered words came from above them, where Sophie Johannsen stood, her face ghostly pale under the red bandana. Her eyes were wide, horrified, and fixed on the victim. Vito had the sudden urge to pull her face against his chest, shielding her from the decomposing body.
Instead he stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “What did you say?”
She didn’t move, her eyes still fixed on the dead man.
He gave her a gentle little shake and pinched her chin, forcibly turning her face to his. “Dr. Johannsen, what did you say?”
She swallowed, then lifted her eyes, no longer bright. “He looks like an effigy.”
“An effigy,” Vito repeated. “As in ‘hung in effigy’?”
She closed her eyes, visibly steeling herself and Vito remembered that her bodies had been dead for hundreds of years. “No,” she said, her voice shaken. “As in a tomb or crypt. Many times tombs would have images of the dead carved in stone or marble. These statues would lie on their backs on top of the crypt. It’s called an effigy.”
She’d calmed herself, sounding like a teacher giving a lecture now. Vito supposed it was her way of coping. “The women usually had their hands folded like this.” She folded her hands beneath her chin, the pose identical to Jane Doe’s.
Vito glanced sharply at Nick, who nodded.
“Go on, Sophie,” Nick said quietly. “You’re doing fine.”
“But . . . but sometimes their arms were folded across their breasts.” Again she demonstrated, laying her hands flat. “Sometimes the man’s hands are folded in prayer, but sometimes he’s in full armor, holding a sword. Usually he holds the sword at his side, but sometimes the effigy was carved like this.” She balled her trembling hands into fists and laid them on her chest in exactly the way the victim’s were posed. “He’d hold the hilt of the sword in his hands and the blade would lie flat against his torso, straight down his center. It’s not as common a pose. It means he died in battle. Do you know who he is?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
“Someone’s son or husband,” she
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