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LAYTON

Sunday morning arrived hours before I was ready for it to. I woke up to my phone ringing and groaned, hoping it wasn’t Clayton Reeve with another annoying surprise. Rolling over on my bed to grab my phone on the nightstand, I frowned when I saw it was Craig.

“This better be urgent if you’re calling at seven-thirty on a Sunday.” I greeted, falling back onto the bed. “What’s up?”

“You have to get down to the site,” Craig said, his voice strained and tense. “I’m sorry to be bothering you this early, but we need to talk and we need to do it now.”

I sat up, immediately getting moving. Craig wasn’t the kind of guy to make a call like this lightly. If he was calling this early to tell me we had to talk, there had to be a problem. “What’s wrong?”

He exhaled a deep breath. “It’s not good, but we’ll talk when you get here.”

We ended the call on that note and I hurried to get showered and ready, arriving at the site less than thirty minutes after he called. It was a cool morning, crisp an