Out of the Depths. Pamela Hearon

her into a standing position, which proved to be no trouble. She even had a foot to spare. He watched her expression as she scanned the strange contents of the room.

      Mounds and indentations—nine of them all together—circled the outside perimeter of the cavern, and each had a leather collar lying at its center.

      Kyndal knelt by the nearest one and picked up the collar, reading the name inscribed on the small metal tag. “Ajax?” Her bottom lip protruded in a thoughtful pout. “His dog?”

      Chance nodded and knelt beside her. “All of Mr. Turner’s

      dogs, I think. This is where he buried them.” He focused the light on a collar about three feet away. “That collar is really old. No name on it. And the depression is the deepest, so it’s probably the first grave. Maybe a childhood pet.”

      “Oh.” Kyndal’s hand spread across her chest. “That is so sweet.” The light glistened in her eyes as she blinked back tears. “All these years, I’ve thought he was a mean old man. But he had a soft side behind that gun-toting exterior, didn’t he?”

      A wild urge to kiss away those tears came over him and he stood up abruptly, whacking his head against the low ceiling. He let loose a string of expletives, which did nothing for the pain but eased his frustration somewhat.