He doubted she’d lost even a wink of sleep over Jonathan Roth’s death. Andy on the other hand, couldn’t stop replaying the clip over in his head as he’d tried to sleep: the enormous armored jaw of the black caiman leaping from beneath the surface of the water and clamping down on Roth’s arm and pulling him under.

Holland put his hand up and said, “If I may.” When the others quieted, he continued. “Early this morning, I reached out to Roth’s emergency contact and communicated to them the unfortunate news of his passing. They asked if it would be possible to bring his remains back to the States, but I sadly told them there were no remains to speak of.” He took a breath. “Not to be too blunt, but there isn’t anything else we can do for him. If anyone would like to leave the expedition, I can have the chopper here in the next hour. For those of you who wish to continue, we will do just that.”

Holland had been paid to keep the expedition safe for twelve days, and he would deliver on that promise.

Holland continued, “As for all of this equipment, it’s owned by Roth Media Incorporated, so I’m not sure what the ethics are moving forward with the film.”

Libby raised her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot. Regardless of how Roth had treated or mistreated her, she was still traumatized by his death. In a shaky voice, she said, “I’m actually the owner of all the equipment. At least on paper.”

Holland waited for her to explain.

She said, “Jonathan got a little creative with his taxes over the past decade, and it was starting to catch up with him. The government was threatening liens on his house, his boat, his car—even his business. I owned a small share of Roth Media, but last year, Roth asked if he could put the entire business under my name. He agreed to give me a larger share of profits, and I didn’t see the downside.”

Farah said, “You mean aside from helping him with federal tax evasion.”

Libby didn’t respond.

Holland said, “Then I suppose, legally, we don’t have anything to worry about.” Everyone was silent for a beat, then Holland asked, “So, who wants to stay?”

Everyone but Bernita raised their hand.

“I can’t,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. “I just want to go back and hug my kids.”

“Understandable,” Holland said. “I’ll get the chopper on the horn.”

≈

Since they’d gotten such a late start, it was decided they would visit T6 instead of the planned-on T5. T6 was a short three-quarters of a mile away, and they reached the area a little after 9:30 a.m. On the lidar scans, it was the smallest of the archaeological sites. There were a few unnatural earthen mounds and what appeared to be a small plaza.