Chapter 4 - The Legal Mind
David’s hand lingered in Mark’s grip a fraction of a second longer than social convention required, his gaze shifting from Mark’s tense posture to Elena’s unyielding stare. The casual warmth that had accompanied Sarah through the garden gate had evaporated, replaced by an acute, professional stillness.
"Permits?" Mark laughed nervously, pulling his hand back and wiping it on his jeans again. "Oh, you know how these things go. Small town, small contractors. You just get down in the dirt and take care of it yourself before the county gets bogged down in red tape."
"Right," David murmured, his eyes lingering on the heavy black pool vacuum hose coiled near the edge of the patio like a sleeping snake. "Though in my line of work, I’ve learned that when people start digging up their own yards without paperwork, they usually aren't looking for sprinkler lines. They’re usually looking to hide something—or dig something up."
Sarah let out an uneasy laugh, glancing between her fiancé and her parents, clearly sensing the heavy current running beneath the polite conversation. "David, please, you’re always in lawyer mode. Can we leave the courtroom at the office for at least one weekend? I brought you here to meet my parents, not cross-examine them about municipal codes."
"It’s fine, Sarah," Elena said quietly, stepping forward from the shadow of the pergola. Her voice was steady, cutting cleanly through the nervous chatter. "David has a very good instinct for these things. Some people spend their entire lives trying to bury their mistakes under concrete, forgetting that the earth has a way of shifting after twenty years."
Mark shot Elena a look of pure, unadulterated terror, his eyes widening in a silent plea for her to stop. But Elena held his gaze without flinching.
David noticed the exchange instantly. His eyebrows arched slightly, a subtle micro-expression of professional curiosity crossing his features. He walked slowly toward the edge of the pool, peering down into the murky, swirling water where the debris spun in slow, rhythmic circles.
"You know," David said casually, crouching down to inspect the damp, freshly turned earth near the patio foundation, "the soil compaction here is completely different from the rest of the yard. This section was disturbed recently—or excavated and repoured within the last couple of decades."
He reached out, his fingers brushing against a rusted piece of metal protruding from the mud near the pool’s edge. It was a fragment of an old steel handle, encrusted in red rust and dried concrete.
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"Dad," Sarah said, her voice dropping an octave as a cold shadow of doubt crossed her face. "What is that?"
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