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  “I wish I could tell you what that purpose was.” Jan held her hands up, almost in a sign of helplessness. “Unfortunately, I can only tell you what the bones tell me. I can tell you what her diet most likely was, I can tell you possible diseases she carried that scarred her bones, but I absolutely cannot tell you why she was where you found her. We all know she shouldn’t have been there, yet, she was.”

  “It doesn’t detract from the importance of the find.” Superintendent Frye spoke quickly. “I just want you to be prepared for that question, because you know it will be asked at the press conference—probably more than once. It will be the park’s stance that it’s reasonable to assume that she was one of the few female soldiers who fought in the war, but without hard evidence proving it, it remains just a theory. She could have been anyone. Unfortunately, most likely we’ll never confirm her identity.”

  Madison chewed on the inside of her lip. They might not be able to identify the remains, but she knew of one person, one soul, who could.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The parking lot for the press conference was filled to maximum capacity.

  “Jesus Christ.” Mike slowed the Jeep down and scanned row after row of parked cars. “I told you this was going to be a circus. We’re early, too—can you imagine what this place would look like if we were late?”

  Liam was squeezed in the back of the Jeep. He peered between the driver and passenger’s seats. “Let’s bail.”

  “After you forced us to buy clothes for today?” Madison gestured down at the short, pale gray dress and beige duster he’d insisted she needed. “No. No, Mike, park on the sidewalk.”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and slid his finger over the face. “I’ll get us a spot. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m more worried about you plowing into a parked car.”

  “I was a combat engineer, this is nothing.” He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Carson, what’s going on buddy? Are you still working the press conference?”

  “I’ve never seen the visitor’s center this packed.” Liam offered Madison a mint. “This has all the makings of a disaster.”

  “Why did they have it here?” Madison kept her voice low, so as to not interrupt Mike’s call.

  “Because it’s got an auditorium and sound system equipment and, prior to seeing this, I had the assumption it had ample parking.”

  Mike turned the wheel with one hand, backtracking to the lot entrance. “Around back? You mean, back next to the field or back next to the cyclorama? The cyclorama, okay, be there in about a minute. Thanks, man.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “He’s going to hook us up.”

  “Sweet.” Madison picked the edge of her dress, wishing it was a few inches longer. She didn’t regret her tattoos, but she didn’t want to be a media spectacle right off the bat. “I was under the assumption that four or five people would be here.”

  “Discovery of the century, baby.” Mike maneuvered the Jeep down the windy road leading to the back side of the visitor’s center. Ranger Carson was waiting beside a small patch of what appeared to be employee parking. He motioned for Mike to pull the Jeep into an empty spot in between two luxury sedans.

  Once the car was parked, Carson opened Madison’s door and reached his hand in to help her out. “It’s delightful to see you again, Miss Madison. Are you ready for the big show?”

  “False.” Madison stepped out of the vehicle and tried to force a sunny smile. “I can think of about a million things I’d rather be doing. Jury duty. Root canal. Kidney donation.”

  He slid a parking pass onto the front dash. “It might not be that bad. Right, Lieutenant?”

  “No, it’s probably going to be worse.” He circled around the back of the Jeep, opening the back so Liam could squeeze out and to the ground. “It’s going to be a circus, especially when it’s announced the remains were female.”

  “Female?” Ranger Carson fell into step with him. “You think she was disguising herself as a man to serve in the military?”

  “If she was, she’d the first remains ever discovered. We have no idea how many served or how many were killed. Just speculation.”

  “And God knows we can’t speculate.” Liam rolled his eyes dramatically and then smoothed down the front of his shirt.

  Carson ushered them into the auditorium. Madison had pictured a school auditorium like at her junior high school—this was substantially smaller. Five rows of six folding chairs were set up in front of a long, head table. Paper placards were placed in front of each seat to designate where each dig crew member was to sit.

  Madison immediately noticed she was as far away as possible from Mike, seated next to Cianna.

  “You don’t think Brad had a hand at setting the table up, do you?” Liam tapped his finger against his chin. “Mikey, he hates you so much.”

  “Yeah, well, he can suck it.”

  “Madison, did he ever actually ask you out?” Liam pulled his chair out and sat down, adjusting the name placard to line up with the edge of the table. “Or, is he anti-Mikey on principle?”

  “No, but he did stare at my boobs for a high percentage of the time we were together.”

  “We’ve all done that, Sassy.”

  “And on that note,” — Carson stuck his hand out to shake Mike’s — “I’ll catch you guys after the press conference. Have fun.”

  Reporters slowly drifted into the auditorium, filling the folding chairs from the front to the back. Some were scribbling in notebooks or typing on tablets even at this point, obviously already preparing the first exclusive story of the dig results. Madison started to feel sweaty. It was the same physical reaction she got when delivering a speech in school: pulse pounding, nerve wracking, knee shaking panic. It was a good thing her name was written out in front of her; she had a distinct feeling her panic would reach the height where she’d need prompting for simple answers.

  Maybe she’d just fade into the background and Brad could run the show. He’d probably like it better that way, anyway.

  He and Superintendent Frye were in secluded conversation near the front of the room, no doubt discussing what could and couldn’t be said about the dig. Brad’s arms were crossed in front of him, with one hand extended upward and cupping his chin. He looked calm and serious, like he was preparing to deliver his acceptance speech for some prestigious award he’d waited his whole life to get. Hell, that’s probably exactly what he was thinking.

  Cianna stormed into the room and pushed past them, taking her seat at the table. She glanced up at them, immediately defensive. “I’m late because there was nowhere to park.”

  Liam looked around the room. “Unless I’m wrong, we haven’t started yet. You’re not late.”

  “Parking is a nightmare.”

  “We had the same problem.” Madison took her seat next to her. Be nice. Don’t call her a whore. “I’m glad Mike drove, because I’d have had a nervous breakdown. I might still have a nervous breakdown, because I see nothing desirable about this press conference.”

  Cianna regarded her. “Me either.”

  Brad took his seat at the table, his smile a little too big and exaggerated. “Hey, guys! Everyone here? Are we ready for this?”

  Madison shook her head. Liam made some sort of indeterminate noise in his throat.

  “We’re going to do great.” Brad winked at Madison. “We’ve got this. The hard part’s over, right?”

  Madison choked back the urge to throw up.

  Superintendent Frye stepped to the front of the table and raised his hand in the air, signaling the journalists and photographers to fall silent. They complied. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to Gettysburg National Military Park. As we previously released, on May 11, human remains were discovered during an archeological dig at the George Spangler Farm, the site of the Federal 11th Corps hospital. The remains are currently being analyzed by forensic anthropologist Scott Spada and osteo-archeologist Jan William
s. Ms. Williams released her initial report of the remains this morning, confirming the subject was a female, approximately between the ages of eighteen and twenty-four.”

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd and several journalists put their hands in the air to signal questions. The room was peppered with flash bulbs, like little bursts of lightening above the reporters.

  Frye raised his hands again to silence them. “I have with me today the head of the archeological survey, Bradley Emerson, and the members of his crew: from right to left, we have Liam Stanish, Michael Caldwell, Cianna Simon, and Madison Monroe. I’ll turn our discussion over to Mr. Emerson. Brad?”

  Brad cleared his throat, adjusting the microphone in front of him. “We’re going to open the room up for questions on the dig, the site, and the overall process of archeology. Until the final reports are issued from the forensic examination, I won’t be able to give much detail on the state of the remains other than what’s indicated on Dr. Williams report. First question?”

  A man in the front row stood. “Hank DuFour, Gettysburg Chronicle. Will the remains be returned to the Spangler Farm and, if so, what future does that hold for the remainder of the planned survey?”

  “As for the remains, no specific plans have been made for internment at this point. Once the examination is complete, the park service will determine when and where the remains will be laid to rest.” Brad paused, adjusting the pages of notes in front of him. “Our survey of the site will continue once it’s cleared by the park service. We will not continue any further excavations in the test pits where the remains were found, but will fall back on the other three pits we had set up. We hope to still complete everything on schedule.”

  He nodded at a woman a few seats down. She stood, pen poised above a pad of paper. “Carol Vanek, Harrisburg Sun. Who found the remains? Specifically.”

  Brad’s eyes shifted down the table. “That would be Miss Monroe.”

  The reporter nodded and turned toward Madison. “As a woman in a field dominated by men, tell me what it’s like to have discovered the remains of a woman who, quite possibly, hid her sex to fight in a war also dominated by men.”

  Madison shifted her weight from one hip to the other and twisted a sterling silver ring around her finger. Shouldn’t Brad be answering all the questions? Her mind went blank, but she forced herself to answer. “Well, um, I don’t think that archeology is a field dominated by men. Look at our crew: we’re evenly matched two women and two men. I think we all have equal opportunities to be awesome. I just…happened to be in the right place at the right time. It could have been any of us; it could have been none of us. That’s just how fickle field archeology is: one quarter of an inch off and you find nothing but dirt.”

  “But how did you feel finding remains? No one has found remains here in over twenty years.”

  “She wasn’t who I expected to find.” Madison grimaced. Idiot. “I mean, we weren’t expecting to find remains. We found buttons and brass and canteen spouts but this…this was different. This was a person. Regardless whether she was a soldier or a civilian, she was someone. She had a life and friends and family and…it’s just all very sobering. It makes you think about what’s really important and what’s not.”

  Brad motioned to a reporter in the second row. “Next question?”

  “JJ Schmidt, Archeology Magazine. This question is also for Madison: how does this experience compare to other digs you’ve worked?”

  “I haven’t been on any other digs like this.”

  “What’s your degree in?”

  “I don’t have a degree.” She blushed and looked at the back of the room. This was ridiculous. “I’m still in college.”

  “How did you end up on the dig crew, then?”

  “I’m applying to graduate school and this is part of the requisite field experience. Previously I worked at Pittsburgh’s Fort Pitt and helped on small surveys at Allegheny Cemetery and the site of the 1845 Pittsburgh Fire.” She hesitated, not sure what else she needed to say to get the attention off of her. “I’m from Pittsburgh.”

  “What school do you go to?”

  “Monongahela University of Western Pennsylvania.”

  “Are you a good student?”

  “I’d like to think so.” She shrugged. “I’m somewhat of an overachiever.”

  “Favorite class so far?”

  “Survey of World War I Trench Warfare with lecture series of archeology of extant trenches.”

  “Why do you think they selected you for this dig?”

  “Other than my stunning wit and charm?” She shrugged again. “Another example of the right place at the right time, I guess.”

  “I think you’re being modest.”

  “I think I’m just really bad at interviews.”

  A chuckle rumbled through the seated journalists. Mr. Schmidt wrote something on his pad of paper and then smiled. “Last question: has your impression of archeology changed since you discovered the remains?”

  “Yes. I think it’s even more important and imperative now than I did before.”

  Another journalist stood. “Will you finish your degree now?”

  “It would be a waste of money not to finish my degree, not to mention a big waste of three years studying and learning and testing on all the minute historical fact you could be interested in, or, not interested in as the case may be. I tried to learn Latin because I thought it would help, but that was a disaster.”

  Still another journalist. “What’s next for you, Madison?”

  “Other than Latin? I’m one class shy away from a minor in French. Other than that, school starts again in the fall and, pending anything out of control, spring will be my last semester. Graduation after that, the start of grad school in the fall, you know. Living the dream.”

  And another. “Do you think this experience has changed you?”

  “No, I’d hope I’m the same socially awkward nerd I was before, the girl who likes science fiction, a good cheese, and crossword puzzles.”

  The group of journalists chuckled again. Another journalist took his turn. “Do you think you’re the new face for the field of archeology?”

  Madison groaned. God, she hoped not.

  * * * *

  Although a few of the questions were directed to other members of the team, Madison felt like the overall onslaught of questions was directed toward her. This was precisely what she wanted to avoid.

  Mike led her to the car, his fingers tightly laced around hers. “You’re a media darling. I like how you did the majority of the press conference while Liam and I got to sit back and count ceiling tiles.”

  “That was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.”

  “I thought you were delightful.” Mike squeezed her hand. “Charming, funny, politically correct in every way possible; they ate it up. You’re, like, the media whisperer or something.”

  “Consider this my retirement from the sport.”

  He opened the passenger’s door for her and then circled to the rear of the Jeep to open it for Liam. She watched them in the side view window, nervously twisting her ring around her finger. As easy as it was to get caught up in the present, her mind easily slid back to concerns of the past. The remains in the test pit were female. It was a woman—a girl her age—entombed in the Pennsylvania soil, not Ben. He’d dragged her to the pit, he’d prompted everything she did, whether she fully realized it or not. After all that, how could it not be him? Why was he still trapped in eternal limbo, some hazy point of existence in between life and death?

  What was he trying to tell her? And, more importantly, why was she too dense to figure it out?

  Mike slid into the driver’s seat and jammed the key into the ignition. “Okay, so, what do we want to do now? Lunch? Update our resumes? Sit around and do nothing?”

  “I vote lunch.” Liam noisily shifted around in the back of the Jeep. “Go somewhere where I can get a scotch.”

  “You answered about two-thirds of one questio
n.”

  “I’m flustered.”

  Mike chuckled and then stopped, touching his finger to Madison’s cheek. “Why so down? Come on, it wasn’t that bad. Besides…it’s over now.”

  “It’s not over.” She hesitated and then sighed. “That part is over. But, I still don’t know why Ben wanted us to find her. Or, why he’s still lurking around now that we have.”

  “Wait, you saw him again? When?”

  “When you went to get breakfast this morning. He acted like he was trying to tell me something. I still can’t understand him or, hell, I can’t even hear him half the time. I’m not strong enough. Neither is he.”

  “I’m not sure those are questions you’ll ever be able to have answered.” Mike pulled the Jeep out of the parking space and drove toward the main road. “It’s not like calling him on the phone. You can’t just redial or ask him to repeat himself.

  “We can ask him if we have a séance.”

  Liam scoffed. “You want to have a séance? Are you serious?”

  “Yes, and I want you to be there.” She turned and faced Mike. “I just think, if there’s the three of us trying, all the combined…psychic power or whatever it is can amplify him. It would be like plugging a guitar into an amp. Sure, the guitar works without the amp, but plug it in and it’s even better. It’s louder.”

  “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “I’ve relied heavily on internet searches because I have no idea what I’m talking about.”

  Mike sighed. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from. I do. But, what happens if it doesn’t work? Or, worse yet, you don’t get the answer you’re looking for?”

  “At least we’ll have tried.” She glanced at the rock clotted green battlefields. “I just feel like we need to try.”

  “Feasibility aside…” Liam paused, as if he were choosing his words. “I assume you’d want to have a séance at the test pit—which we can’t do. The next best thing would be the summer kitchen, which we also can’t do, because the entire farm is shut down. We’d get arrested if they caught us trying to get on site. Hell, I’m fairly sure we’d get arrested trying to get on site even if it wasn’t shut down.”