“Impossible.”
She laughed. “Trust me, Tucker. I grew up as one of six kids. This is nothing. I’m used to bedlam and anarchy. It would go faster if my mom were here, but I can do it by myself.”
She continued to outline her plan, which was impressive. His father was right—having a local around helped. Tucker knew he was lucky to have her. And not just on the job site. She was an unexpected pleasure of being in Fool’s Gold.
While he didn’t believe in his father’s choice of having women all over the world, Tucker hadn’t lived the last ten years as a monk. There had been plenty of short-term, casual relationships. They’d been as easy to start as they had been to end. Almost from the beginning, he’d known they wouldn’t work out, for an assortment of reasons.
With Nevada it was different. She understood his work and she understood him. They could talk about anything and spend long periods of time together. He trusted her, which wasn’t something he often found.
“So?” she asked. “Do I have your approval?”
“And my gratitude.”
“You can give me a small but tasteful present later.”
Her impish smile made him want to pull her against him and give her that present now. But this wasn’t the time or place.
Yet another car drove up, but this one made him groan. He recognized the lettering on the side.
“Police Chief Alice Barns,” he muttered. “She brought the summons last time she was here. Do you think the city council is demanding our presence again?”
Before Nevada could answer, the police chief walked up. Tucker eyed her but didn’t see any paperwork. That was something.
“Morning,” Chief Barns said. “I’m letting you know that the extra security will be here for as long as it takes.” She smiled. “I’m sure that makes you happy.”
“My heart is beating faster as we speak,” Tucker muttered. “Do we have an estimated time of completion?”
The police chief jerked her thumb toward the parking lot, where a battered van had pulled in.
“You can ask them. I have a list of their names. Want a copy?”
“No.” He planned to be at the other end of the site until all this blew over. The idea of a hundred acres between him and them made him a happy guy.
“I’ll take it,” Nevada said. “I’ll want to check their IDs, too, to make sure we don’t have any treasure hunters muscling in. This find is part of Fool’s Gold’s history. No one is going to steal it on my watch.”
“That’s my girl,” the police chief said approvingly.
Tucker watched as a half dozen or so khaki-wearing archaeologist types got out of the van. Most had on backpacks and carried tools and water bottles. One of the women walked toward him. She was tall, with dark hair and bangs.
Her gaze settled on him. “Tucker Janack?” she asked. “I’m Piper Tate.”
They shook hands.
“I’ve worked with contractors before,” she said. “I know you want us off-site as quickly as possible. We want that, too. Our priority is the find and keeping it safe. We’ll set up a round-the-clock team. Artifacts will go more quickly than human remains. Be grateful you didn’t unearth a skeleton.”
“Lucky me.”
She gave a few more specifics. He noticed the police chief ducking out when the conversation got technical and wanted to go with her. Instead he nodded through a discussion of removing and cataloging artifacts and the rigorous designs of the boxes they would be using to transport everything.
When Piper finally excused herself to go join the others, Tucker saw that Nevada was laughing.
“What?”
“You’ve got to learn to fake it better,” she told him. “You were obviously bored.”
“It was a boring topic. I’m here to build something, not deal with old statues.”
“I know someone who needs a little time on a backhoe.”
That did sound good, he thought. “I’m still stuck on what would have happened if we’d found a body.”
“Go.” She pushed him toward his truck. “I’ll deal with this.”
“Okay. Check in with me every couple of hours.”
“I will.”
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and had nearly made it to his truck when a familiar dark sedan pulled up next to the police chief’s car.
“Sorry,” Nevada whispered as Mayor Marsha got out.
Tucker hung his head. This was not his day.
He waited for the inevitable scolding as the mayor approached. A woman he didn’t know exited the passenger side of the car.
“Annabelle,” Nevada said, sounding surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Annabelle was petite, with red hair. She looked uncomfortable as she glanced around.
“I have a minor in tribal studies,” she said with a sigh. “I specialized in the Máa-zib tribe. Somehow Mayor Marsha found out.”