Long enough to decompose completely. Jasmine wasn’t going to dig the skeleton all the way out to make sure, but the cranium she’d exposed had only a small bit of leathery skin still attached to the scalp and a patch of sandy-colored hair. There were teeth in the skull but of course no eyes. This wasn’t a child. But it was repulsive enough despite that. Shaking, more from shock and fear than cold, Jasmine scrambled away. What’d happened before this poor person was buried in the Moreaus’ cellar? Her mind created a picture of a desperate struggle, but nothing more. She had to get out. Before someone realized what she’d discovered. Before the man who’d locked her in here returned. Before she wound up rotting in a shallow grave like the corpse staring sightlessly back at her. Once again cognizant of movement above her, she hurried toward the trapdoor, planning to beg for help, if need be. But halfway there, she stopped. She couldn’t leave the body exposed. If the person inside the house was the one who’d taken that life, and he or she knew Jasmine had found the remains, she’d be even less likely to survive the day.
