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animal—but based on the enormous size I’d venture to guess it’s animal.”
    “So how will we know for sure?” Bree asked.
    “Hopefully we can extract some DNA,” Conor said.
    Turning toward Bree, her dad smiled. “Your hypothesis is not far-fetched, especially the way this hand looks.”
    Bree liked the idea of her hastily shared impression being a “hypothesis.” When steeped in science, her dad sounded kind and caring.
    “But you also have to look at the facts,” he said. “So, what do the facts tell us about this hand?”
    Bree considered her words carefully. She didn’t want to disappoint her dad. “Well, the host was hairy, for one thing. And the nails are long, much longer than any I’ve ever seen. They’re also pointed. And it’s a right hand.”
    “Good, Bree. It’s important to consider all possible explanations. For example, if this person or animal had long nails when it died, and if the skin began to dry out before the hand was dumped in the bog, the skin would have pulled away from the nails and made them seem even longer. So, we have to take that into consideration when determining what happened here. In this business we don’t know anything until we know. You understand what I mean?”
    “Sure,” Bree said.
    “That’s all I meant,” Kelsi said, smiling at Bree’s dad and then shooting Bree a suspicious glance. “There’s no point in jumping to outlandish conclusions.”
    Bree kept her mouth shut for now. Outlandish? What was up with Kelsi? Why was Kelsi so quick to prove her wrong?

Chapter Nine
     
    “Now that that’s settled,” Conor said, opening his field kit, “let’s get to work.”
    Kelsi raised the Nikon that hung from her neck and began firing off shots of the site while inching around the hand to cover every angle.
    Bree helped Conor and Liam unearth the rest of the hand with short, measured strokes. As she worked, Bree wondered what her dad was thinking. As he had when they discovered the bog body, he squatted to study the hand from a distance of about a foot or so. He wobbled slightly and then stood. She heard his knees crack, and then he arched his back with his fist planted behind his hip. From his pocket he pulled the small notebook and pen he always kept there and jotted a note.
    Conor leaned toward Bree. At first she thought he saw something on the hand, but then he glanced at Kelsi and said loud enough for only Bree and Liam to hear, “Sorry about what happened before with Kelsi. I’m sure she didn’t mean it. It’s just that the lore’s strong in these parts and a lot of folks believe in the Benandanti.”
    “The Benandanti?” Bree said, without even thinking to keep her voice down. “I thought they were from Italy?”
    “They were,” Conor said, “but it seems that some of the women moved to Ireland.”
    Liam said, “What do you know about the Benandanti?”
    Bree shrugged. “Not much. My dad’s really into mythology, especially lycanthropy, and I remember seeing that somewhere. But I didn’t look into the Benandanti much. I was more interested in the Norse and Greek lycanthropy legends for whatever reason.” She paused and looked over at her dad who was deep in thought and probably hadn’t heard a word she’d said. Then she asked, “What were they like?”
    Conor set down his brush. “The Benandanti were a race of lycanthropes who fought against evil. But unlike the lycanthropes in books or movies, they never slaughtered without a reason.”
    “At least most of the time,” Liam added.
    “What you mean?” Bree asked.
    Conor said, “Legend has it that they’re the good guys, but there are also tales of some Benandanti hurting others instead of helping them. As if they had their own hidden agenda. Many folks are afraid of them.”
    “Are you talking about the Benandanti in general or those women who moved to Ireland?”
    “No one knows why the women came here,” Conor said, “so we don’t know what they’re up to.”
    “And