Sacred Burial Grounds (An FBI Romance Thriller (book 2)) Read Online Free

a night. Out of all of his men, none of them would be able to seamlessly pull off this prank.
    The whole day was starting shitty , and he didn’t expect it to stop now.  As he approached the smoldering fire, he could see the bones sticking up out of the dirt. They looked small, and delicate almost like they would crumble if touched.
    “They look like bird bones,” he said, crouching beside them. There was a familiarity for him with bones. His grandfather was the tribe shaman, and many times as a boy he watched him grind up the bones of an animal to practice his old world beliefs and healing. He’d helped him, wanting that connection to his ancestry. Many times he watched in awe as a boy, at the idea that magic and mysticism did indeed exist, and it ran through his veins. His grandfather made it very alluring as a child. Now things like this just made him wary, and he had no use in his life. Magic didn’t exist. Truth was found in cold hard facts of life.
    “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
    Whitefox took in the entire scene of the grotesque circle, knowing he’d seen something very much like it growing up.
    This was a medicine wheel, or a sick perversion of one. There was a circle of ston es and in the center a smaller one, housing what once had been the fire. Four main rocks pointed out the elements. Each coded with a compass direction, and between the points on the man-made compass, sat all the bones. Some were tipped with red and symbols, and some with nothing on them but ash. Trying to decipher the symbols was almost impossible. They were smudged and coated with carbon, ruining any chance at seeing what they were trying to convey. Yeah, the hair on his arms and neck stood. This wasn’t something that you saw every day, not with the blood. Maybe they were animal bones, but something just felt off about the entire thing.
    “What should we do?”
    Whitefox didn’t even look up. “I’m going to stay here with the bones. I don’t think we should leave them alone. I need you to go back to town and get the doctor. Before I get the council worked up, I want to know what kind of bones these are, and Doc should be able to help us. If they’re human bones, I’ll contact the council, and we’ll see what they want us to do about it. Also, send one of the guys out to the burial grounds, and see if any of the tribal graves have been disturbed. These bones, if human, had to come from somewhere. No one just has a stash of bones in their basement to create something like this.” Not sane people, anyway.
    “Okay, Callen. Try and be careful out here. I’ll be back as fast as I can,” he said, practically running to the patrol car. He was so glad his boss sent him. He didn’t want to hang out with the bones. It was beyond creepy. The chief had a set of brass ones to sit there with their discovery, alone in the forest. More power to him at his lack of self-preservation.
    Whitefox could hear his officer pull away fast, and he couldn’t blame him. Now he needed to just stay calm, observe the area, and take in everything around him. The campgrounds were a pretty isolated area, used during camping season, and mostly when the local schools came out to the reservation to learn about Native American Indian heritage.
    Other than that , the entire reservation technically was a campground. Trees and forest were everywhere. The residents didn’t hang out in the woods, especially when you lived in them daily. There were the random underage drinking parties and sex romps, but rarely did you see someone from the reservation out camping. No tribe member was going to come here to commune with nature, or search for food. All hunting was done in the forest across the reservation near his grandfather’s domicile. The tribe didn’t hunt where outsiders camped and frolicked. For one, no one wanted to accidentally shoot an innocent person and deal with the consequences. Then there was the main reason, outsiders were avoided