Baby bones. Could there any worse words for Emma to hear right now? Good thing I had a hold of her arm, because I felt her go limp for an instant before she regained her equilibrium. Confusion rippled across her face, but this was quickly replaced by a wave of understanding. A baby sister who disappeared fifteen years ago must have been lying dead beneath her house all along. That thought would buckle my knees, too.

Emma said nothing, just stared over Andrew’s shoulder at the workers with their still shovels, their bowed heads. A few had their hats in their hands.

Meanwhile I became aware of cameraman Stu moving in, his lens fixed on Emma’s face.

“Andrew,” I said, “take care of Emma for a second.” I stepped between Stu and his camera. “Know something, Stu? I can get as mean as an alligator in a drained swamp, so I suggest you give the girl time to take this in or you may wish you never brought that beautiful expensive camera to Texas.”

His face was hidden, but within seconds the red light went off. “You got a job to do and so do I,” he said. But I could tell by the look in his eyes that he, too, might believe that sometimes your job isn’t the most important thing in the world.

I turned back to Emma. Her expression had turned stony, her skin pale green. I noticed Andrew had his cell phone to his ear.

“He’s calling the police,” Emma said, her gaze still locked on the mound of debris that was once her home. “I-I… never called the police back then, even when she’d leave us alone for a week at a time. I was too afraid. I should have called them, Abby. God, I should have.”

“You don’t know if what they’ve found-”

“I don’t know? Come on. You’re not stupid, and neither am 1. They found my sister.”

“Maybe. We’ll talk to the police and-”

“No. I need you to get me out of here before then. I don’t have time to talk to the police. They’ll want to know things, and it could take hours. I have to pick up Shannon from school. She needs braces, and this was supposed to be her first appointment with the orthodontist. And Luke has football practice, and-”

I put a finger to her lips. “Stop and think what you’re saying. You know this is a different kind of… interruption in your routine. This is serious business.”

Eyes bright with tears, she took a deep breath and finally her wobbly legs gave out. She fell to her knees, made the sign of the cross and started praying. “Holy Mary, Mother of God…”

The rosary prayer, the one Catholics do penance with after a confession. Why should she have anything to feel guilty about? This wasn’t her fault.

“Why aren’t you rolling on this?” Chelsea said, poking Stu in the arm.

Where the hell had she come from?

Stu got in her face. “Don’t you ever touch me again.” But he did lift his camera and resume taping.

Chelsea took a deep breath and knelt beside Emma, putting an arm around her.

You phony bitch, I wanted to say, but instead I backed off. Jeez. I felt like I had my foot stuck in the stirrup of a runaway horse. Things were totally out of my control here. Maybe when the police arrived, it would feel less chaotic.

The police came pretty fast, but not before another Reality Check cameraman walked right onto the property to videotape what looked like a black garbage bag-I could see the torn pieces blowing in the afternoon breeze. He ignored the admonitions of the workers standing near what I assumed were the remains. But then Andrew intervened, and he and the cameraman got into a shoving match. Thank goodness a uniformed cop arrived in time to escort the photographer off the property.

Mayo had disappeared after the discovery, but he’d apparently been inside his Lincoln the whole time. When the cops showed up, he emerged from the backseat, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Something was up. I could tell by the hardness in his gray eyes. He stayed by the car, talking, looking like he was ready for Halloween in his hard hat and designer jeans.

With arrival of the police, more onlookers appeared. There had been a few curious neighbors watching the demolition, but sirens summon a crowd, and that crowd was quickly growing across the street.

I watched one officer set up a perimeter with crime scene tape, and another herd all the city workers off the property. They piled into Andrew’s extended-cab truck and he tossed them the keys to turn on the air-conditioning.

Meanwhile, Stu kept taping until an officer who seemed to be in charge came over to us.

He said, “Sir, I have to ask you to stop filming until we determine what’s gone on here.”

“But we have an agreement with the city,” Chelsea said. “A contract with the homeowner giving us the right to film. We have-”

“Ma’am. We know all that. The Chronicle ran an article about your little production visit to town this morning. No matter what deal you had with who, you’re turning the camera off or I will confiscate it as evidence. Might do that anyway.”

Chelsea’s artificially bronzed face paled. “No way this was in the newspaper. You’re lying.”

The cop stared down at her, smirking and shaking his head.

“Okay, you’re not lying,” she finally said. “Syndicated or local piece?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care, ma’am. Now, this is your last chance. I want all your people to wait in the street. We’ll be barricading this block so they won’t have to worry about being in the way of traffic.”

I liked this guy. Calm. Tall. And very much in charge.

“Oh, whatever.” Chelsea tugged at Stu’s sleeve despite his earlier warning not to touch him. He pulled his arm free and stomped away toward the other crew members.

Chelsea started to follow but stopped and turned back to me. She was hot, and not hot like her little boots. “You did this, didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“Called the newspaper. I know it wasn’t Emma, because she was told not to talk to the local media. It had to be you.”

“I didn’t tell any reporter anything.”

“Don’t deny it, you little hick bitch. Don’t you see? Now that this… this… grave has been discovered, every reporter in town will be digging around for information. And Mayo will blame me.” She whirled and ran off in Stu’s direction.

I smiled to myself, almost wishing I had called the Chronicle.

Meanwhile, Emma was sitting on the ground, knees to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was buried in her drawn-up legs. I squatted beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Emma? Are you okay?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

The police officer cleared his throat, and I stood up. The name badge on his bright blue shirt read CLARK.

“Is this the homeowner, Emma Lopez?” he said.

I nodded.

She looked up then, her cheeks smudged with eye makeup, her eyes tired and red-rimmed.

“The city crew chief, Andrew McDonald, pointed you out.” Clark looked to his left at Andrew, who was talking to a female officer holding a notebook and pen. “He said you’ve been pretty upset, that you’ve asked for delays on this demolition.”

“He told you that?” Emma said. “Seems everyone knows my business.”

“Officer Clark, do you have to do this now?” I said.

He turned his attention to me. “Your name, ma’am?”

“Abby Rose-Yellow Rose Investigations.”

He looked puzzled. “Do I know you?”

“No, but you may know a friend of mine-Sergeant Jeff Kline. Homicide.”

He nodded. “That’s it. I’ve seen you downtown. Your Jeffs-” He caught himself, refocused on Emma. “I think you’ll both need to talk to the homicide investigators, so I’ll give you guys a break until they get here. Meanwhile, guess I need to deal with them.” He nodded at the Venture crew, all standing in the street, listening to a Mayo lecture. Most of them looked hot, tired and disinterested in whatever he was saying.