Buried Deep_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  “I was more worried about the guy who broke into my house. The accident stung, but I was able to walk home. I landed a little hard on my shoulder and hip, that’s all.”

  And apparently on her face too. “Do you think the intruder drove the car?” His mind splintered into many directions.

  She put her cup down again and her ankle nearly gave way. “The driver was female, no more than sixteen or seventeen. I have her insurance information in the bedroom.”

  “Good. I’ll run her license when I return to the precinct.” He stood and took hold of her elbow. “You need some ice for that ankle.”

  “I iced it when I came home.”

  The woman sure did put up a show of bravery. While admirable, it wasn’t smart. “Sit at the table and prop your foot up on the chair while I fix a Kinsey special.” When she didn’t move, he lowered his chin and raised his brow. “I’ll carry you over there if I have to.”

  That must have gotten to her, because she immediately did as he asked.

  He fixed an ice pack and placed it on her ankle. “Keep it there for twenty minutes.” He pulled out a chair and sat opposite her. “Let’s start from the top. You said a girl hit you. Do you think it was on purpose? Perhaps a tag team effort of some sort?”

  “Tag team?”

  “Where one person knocks you over so that the other person can offer their sympathy—like send you a note saying to be careful.”

  “No. I think she was on the phone and not paying attention.” She pointed to her chest. “I was the one in the wrong place at the wrong time. If I hadn’t fallen and landed in the road I wouldn’t have been hit.”

  He wasn’t convinced there wasn’t some kind of setup.

  She picked up her cup with both hands and took a sip. Her eyes closed for a second. “Whoever put this note here, knows where I live.” Her eyes widened. “Do you think he knows where I work too?”

  She deserved the truth. “It’s possible, but there’s no mention of a skeleton or any other reference to what you do for a living.”

  She pushed back her chair. “I’m sorry, I forgot to ask. Would you like any sugar or cream?” She seemed to force normalcy.

  Avoiding the issue meant she was deeply upset. If only he could explain away the reasons for the note and the car accident. “Neither. I’m good. You shouldn’t move around. You need to keep the ankle iced.”

  She ignored his instructions and hobbled into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of pink sugar packets, and returned.

  When she didn’t replace the ice pack, he did it for her.

  “It’s cold.”

  “It’s supposed to be.”

  Her lips puckered as she stirred her drink. Her trembling hand told him all he needed to know. She was damned scared, and Trevor had no idea how to comfort her.

  He waved a hand in front of her, and she glanced up. “I don’t like the idea of you staying here alone with some maniac on the loose.”

  Her nostrils flared. “I’ll buy new locks, and I’ll make sure I’m ready for him if he does return.”

  “You don’t understand. Even if you have a security system installed, the intruder could follow you up the porch steps and slip inside without you noticing, especially if your battery pack is turned off. And if he comes late at night, you won’t hear if he breaks in.”

  “So?” She squared her shoulders.

  “So? Are you nuts?” Trevor took a calming breath. Did she care so little about her safety? “How about getting a dog? He could alert you to a prowler and help protect you.”

  She leaned forward. “You think because I can’t hear as well as you that I can’t live in the real world?”

  Shit. He hadn’t wanted to hit another nerve, especially not tonight. They needed to work together and insulting her wouldn’t help. “You are very capable of living in the real world, but some sicko might come after you, and I don’t want you getting injured—or worse....killed.” He pushed aside the horrific thought. “I’ll pick up one of those alarm whistles that is enough to stun someone. It won’t warn you there’s someone nearby, but it might come in handy.”

  With her lips pressed together, she studied him. “My parents didn’t raise me to rely on others. No telephone for the deaf, no note takers at school, no sign language to let people know I couldn’t hear. I have a cochlear implant so I wouldn’t have to wear ear buds.” She pulled off the transmitter from the back of her head and waved the quarter-sized disk before replacing it. “Unless you see the wire that runs under my shirt and down my back, people usually don’t know I can’t hear.”

  “I wouldn’t have known if Phil hadn’t said anything.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t lose my hearing until I was two and a half, so my speech was pretty good by then.” Her chin notched up. “However, my parents made me go to speech therapy three times a week until I went to college.”

  “Your parents almost acted as if they were embarrassed you were deaf.”

  “No. They did everything for me.”

  But they wouldn’t let anyone else do anything for her. “Not giving you the necessary tools to protect yourself isn’t right.”

  She ran a hand along the tabletop. “They wanted me to be normal. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  He refused to enter into a debate about independence. He leaned back in the chair, angry with himself for becoming so riled up. “Why don’t you pack a few things?”

  Her forehead pinched. “Pack?”

  He bit back his sarcastic lack-of-sleep response. “Yes.”

  She looked up at him. “Why?”

  “You can’t stay here.”

  Her chest caved as her shoulders slumped, and her eyes lost their focus. “You think he’ll come back?” Her voice came out faint and wobbly.

  “It’s possible.”

  She finally lifted her head, but her gaze latched onto the floor. “I’m still not agreeing I need those precautions, but until I get the locks fixed, I’ll do what you’re suggesting for a day or two.”

  “Good.” He appreciated she was willing to see reason.

  She lifted her gaze. “Where would I go? My parents are in New York, and I don’t want to stay at their house since it’s so far out of town.”

  “How about staying with a friend? I know it’s late, but you have to go somewhere.”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been too busy at school to make any close friends.” Pain radiated from her eyes.

  He tunneled a hand through his hair. “I’ve got it.”

  6

  Curses from a man yelling at an arresting officer traveled into the office area. Trevor’s brother, Ethan, leaned over his shoulder and read the plastic encased note from Lara’s intruder out loud.

  “You are my new Indian Princess. I’m watching everything you do. I need you alive. You’re my ticket to fame.” He stepped back three feet and sat in his squeaky desk chair. “This creep doesn’t beat around the bush, does he?”

  Trevor swiveled around. “No, he doesn’t.” His gut churned.

  “From the short, choppy sentences, he knows what he wants. His use of the word, need implies he’s desperate.”

  Ethan was right. “The idea that someone’s watching her scares the crap out of me. I’ve asked Phil to do a sweep for bugs at the lab and at Lara’s house. It’s as if he knows where she is and where she’s going.”

  “She’s staying at your place for the time being, right?”

  “Just for a day or two until I find somewhere else that’s safe. Since she wasn’t harmed or directly threatened, the department wouldn’t spring for a safe house.”

  “Better with you than staying alone. How did she react to moving into a one-bedroom apartment with a cop?”

  Savvy Ethan. “Not so good. She bucked at first, but Christ, at four a.m. there weren’t many places for her to go. I wasn’t about to dump her off at some hotel. Something will turn up.”

  “I hope you slept on the sofa.” His brother winked.

  “No. We had wi
ld passionate sex in the shower, on the kitchen counter and finally, in a state of exhaustion, in my bed.” If only. “Of course, I slept on the sofa.”

  “You’ve known her what? A week? You’re usually not such a fast mover.” Ethan leaned back in his seat and grinned. The damned chair squeaked again.

  His brother was baiting him. “Have you known me to date anyone since I’ve been down here?”

  “Since Claire died? No, but she’s been gone two years. You have to move on with your life.”

  He didn’t need to discuss that tired subject. “I did move on by quitting Vice, then by leaving New York. At least being in Missing Person’s or Homicide, I won’t piss off the person I’m going after.”

  “Other than the killer.” Ethan wrapped his hands behind his head in an obvious attempt to look relaxed. “In truth, I don’t want you to take up so much of Lara’s time that she isn’t able to help me find out who killed those two men in the coffin.”

  “So that’s all you care about. Don’t worry. Lara is focused on working your case.”

  “Perfect.”

  A bit of guilt tackled him. “She did come along to interview Mrs. Jumper, but I know her main concern is working with you.”

  Ethan cocked a brow. “Bringing a civilian along is never a good idea, bro.”

  “I know, but I needed her expertise.”

  “Then we have to make sure this maniac doesn’t harm her.” His gaze shot to the paper, and he cleared his throat. “If I were you, I’d zero in on the Indian Princess part as being our biggest clue.”

  He understood. Ethan’s case came first. “I agree. Lara told me there’s a guy, Bernie Laxman, who works in the DNA lab at HOPEFAL who has the hots for her. He calls her his Indian Princess. He’s a thirty-five year old Caucasian.”

  “Are you going to talk to him?”

  He waved a hand. “Already sent someone to interview him. He has an alibi for last night if we can believe his dad.”

  “His dad?”

  “Yeah. He lives with him.”

  More shouts came from around the corner, and Trevor looked up. A hooker was in custody, and what appeared to be her pimp was following her to lock up.

  Ethan waved a hand for Trevor’s attention. “It wouldn’t be the first time a parent lied to protect his son.”

  “You got that right. I just got off the phone with Phil before you arrived. The HR department at HOPEFAL does intense background checks before they hire anyone, but if this is Bernie Laxman’s first offense, the lab wouldn’t have anything on him.”

  “So where does that leave you?”

  Being deaf, Lara was vulnerable enough. She didn’t need a crazy after her. If anything happened to her, he’d never be able to live with himself. She needed his help. “At least he wants her alive.”

  “For now.”

  His brother’s words tightened every muscle in his chest. “What I don’t get is why send the note? Why warn her to be careful? It makes no sense.”

  His brother shrugged. “He needs her as his ticket to fame, whatever that means.”

  A hurt, raw and sharp, clawed at Trevor’s gut. “She was careless last night when she went out jogging. She slipped and fell into the road, and a car clipped her hip and sent her sprawling. Maybe he knew about her accident.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. “A car hit her?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “You think the person who hit Lara did so on purpose in order to write the note?”

  He turned back to face his brother. “I already asked her that. Lara said a teenage girl ran into her, and the kid was very upset.”

  “Then we’re back to square one.”

  He blew out a breath. “Why Lara? What about her could possibly help someone rise to fame?”

  Ethan shrugged. “Could his warning be related to our double skeleton case?”

  “I hope to hell not.”

  “If the note is related to our case, I’ll be damned to know how stopping the investigation can help him. Besides, he would have warned me too.” Ethan twirled a yellow pencil over his knuckles, a skill Trevor had failed to master.

  He squeezed the chair’s arm as his brother continued his twirling act. “Or he wants her to find the identity of the two skeletons. The case might bring the killer notoriety, which might be something he craves.”

  The pencil act stopped. “You think this guy wants to get caught?”

  “I don’t know. You’re better at profiling than I am.”

  Ethan dropped the pencil on his scarred desk and leaned forward. “Tell me this. Let’s assume for the moment that the person who wrote the note killed both men in the coffin. How did he learn Lara was even working the case?”

  “The press was all over the gruesome discovery of the coffin. Sixteen-year old girl dies and a coffin is already in her grave. It made for good headlines. The article might have even mentioned HOPEFAL was working the case.”

  Ethan picked up the pencil again and waved it at him. “Then how did he know specifically Lara would be analyzing the bones?” He bounced the eraser on the desk.

  “The only way he would know is if he had connections in HOPEFAL.” The tap, tap, tap irritated the hell out of Trevor. “Christ, will you stop with the damn eraser?”

  Not breaking eye contact, Ethan shoved the pencil in the drawer. “You and I both know it takes a special invitation from the Pope, as well as a personal call from the head of the FBI, to get inside HOPEFAL.” Trevor shot him a look. Ethan bobbled his head and waved a hand. “So I exaggerated.”

  “Are you thinking it’s an inside job? It’s happened there before.”

  Ethan’s gaze ran up to the ceiling and back. “Quite possibly.”

  “Christ. Even though Laxman has an alibi, it could be him.” Trevor rubbed his eyes. His brain was too fogged to think straight. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, waiting for someone to come for Lara. “That worries me more than some random serial killer running around.”

  “Maybe Lara leaked information about the case to some newspaper person about what she was investigating.”

  He needed time to absorb that concept. “That’s a stretch, but I’ll ask her. From what she told me, she keeps to herself. She admitted she has no close friends and her parents are currently out of town.”

  That sounded lame. There were cell phones. She could have spoken to her folks about the case, and they could have told someone, but that possibility didn’t seem likely.

  “You follow up with that angle, bro, and I’ll talk to the cemetery owner again to see if one of his people took an interest in my double coffin case.”

  Trevor raked a hand through his hair as he tried to piece together what they’d missed. “You’re the homicide detective with the degree in psychology, can’t you figure out a profile for someone who would write that kind of threat?”

  Ethan leaned forward. “Sure. What does Lara look like?”

  “What does that have to do with profiling the criminal?” His brother grinned. Trevor didn’t like the cocky attitude one bit. “And why haven’t you interviewed her yet? I would have thought she’d be on the top of your list since she studied the bodies.”

  Ethan’s smile disappeared. “I received her very thorough report. I didn’t think she’d have much to add at the moment, but I will talk to her later.”

  He didn’t like the quick upraised brows and refused to identify his reaction as jealousy. Hell, he’d only known her a week, yet her independent attitude was growing on him.

  “Go on,” Ethan said. “Tell me about her.”

  Trevor struggled with a way to describe her without his interest coloring his description. If he refused to answer, Ethan would hound him non-stop. “She’s maybe five-seven, five-eight, thin, olive skin, and wears her brown hair in a long braid down her back.” No need to mention those long legs, curves in the right spot, and very nice breasts.

  Another smile caught Ethan’s lips. “She pretty?”

  “Yes, but what does that
have to do with anything?” He turned his head toward the ringing phone four desks away, avoiding Ethan’s probing gaze.

  “Your clinical description tells me you like her.”

  He’d never been able to fool his older brother. Ever. “I do like her, but how much can you know a person in a week?” A bit relieved he’d admitted he was attracted to her, he waved the note. “So what about this guy?”

  Ethan picked up the paper, his gaze focused and his smile a distant memory. “The guy’s careful. You said CSU found no prints anywhere. The typed note implies he doesn’t want his identity known. Handwriting analysis is quite good these days, and I bet he knows that.” He scratched his head. “As I said before, the note writer has a very defined goal, which makes him dangerous.”

  Before they could brainstorm what to do about Lara’s situation, Captain Willard strode out of his office and made a beeline to them. Their boss seemed to move at one speed—fast.

  “Ethan, I have a new case for you.”

  His brother pressed his lips together. “Another one?”

  He could sympathize. All he had were a few missing persons currently on his plate, and he didn’t have the time to do any one of them justice. Ethan had other cases to investigate and was lead on the double coffin case.

  His brother swiped a hand across his brow. “Who’d you find?”

  “Not sure exactly. A couple fishing at Lake Keystone caught something on their line. When they reeled it in, they’d hooked a fresh arm. Needless to say, they freaked. The cut was clean, so the authorities know it wasn’t the result of a feisty alligator chowing down its dinner.”

  “That would spoil your day.” Ethan chuckled and shot a glance at Trevor. “You want to tag along?” His gaze ping-ponged back to the captain. “I could use Trevor’s help. He did Homicide back in New York.”

  “I know. I’m fine with it if he can spare the time.”

  “I can catch up on my work at the apartment tonight.” He needed to stay home and watch Lara anyway.