Faded

"Just focus on the work."

That had been the advice to any graduate student who had gone green digging through gravesites. An ulna with leathery flesh. The bones of a child. A skull still wet with putrefaction.

"Just focus."

The POLICE letters in front of him bobbed and dodged with the uneven ground.

"Dr. Stires?"

He turned toward the voice. This NTSB joined the trek to the site. "Have you confirmed his identity?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, we've only confirmed that the Cessna belongs to him." She hop-stepped over a rut and he followed. "We'll wait on a positive ID from your team."

Part of his team had taken up an area around what appeared to be a portion of the cockpit, Jeffersonian blue melding with the federal hue. Markers dotted the ground around the twisted metal.

His guide pointed her chin toward his mask. "We've been especially cautious. Report had it that the plane came down in a fireball."

"In-flight explosion?" he asked as he pulled up his mask.

"Possibly." She paused. "We're sweeping for explosive residue."

"He had enemies."

Her NTSB faded into the gloom.

This was the grand death their client had paid for, but two dead? Was another life so worthless? Or worth so much?

"Focus," he reminded himself. "Focus."

He followed the marked path to his team, not even glancing at the two burnt corpses.

Beyond lay a sliver of fuselage stabbing the earth. Bray and Saroyan crouched over, each pantomiming their actions before peeling off debris.

Only one person was to be at the heart of this. One dead. Only one.

He tried to clear his mind, but the nightmare grew darker.

They another layer away to reveal the owner of the Cessna, a man who wasn't supposed to be dead.