by Trout, Linda
Praise for GRAVE SECRETS
“GRAVE SECRETS kept me turning the pages. I believe Linda Trout has a story that will bring many hours of reading pleasure.”
~Jodi Thomas,
NY Times & USA Today Best Selling author
“From the shocks of the first scene to the end of the book, Linda Trout grabs hold of her readers and doesn’t let go. It’s a great emotional ride.”
~Marilyn Pappano,
USA Today Best Selling author
Grave Secrets
by
Linda Trout
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2012 by Linda Trout
Originally published by Wild Rose Press
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
eISBN: 9781503985896
Cover Designer: Kim Mendoza
This title was previously published by Wild Rose Press; this version has been reproduced from Wild Rose Press archive files.
Dedication
To the members of my very first writing class
who believed in me so strongly.
Doris, Mary, Susan. You know who you are.
~~~
To my friends that kept pushing and prodding me
to keep going, Cheryl Williams, Pat Sullivan,
Glenda Nunn and Kelly Donner.
Thanks for the gentle, and not so gentle, shoves.
~~~
To my Romance Writers Ink sisters;
all of you who helped me clean up my pages.
But a special Thank You to Marilyn Pappano,
Susan Shay, Jackie Kramer, Margaret E. Reid,
Lynn Somerville and Ashley Pearce.
Ladies, I couldn’t have gotten here without
each and every one of you.
~~~
To my family that never lost faith
in my abilities to get the job done.
~~~
Last, but certainly not least, I dedicate this book
to my real life hero, my husband,
who has stood beside me, encouraging, supporting and always being there for me.
Your faith that I can do whatever I want
gives me the strength to keep plugging away.
I will always love you.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
A word about the author…
Chapter One
Today, the police were exhuming her husband’s body.
Sara Adams slowed her steps, lagging behind Detective Cannon as she neared Jason’s gravesite. Resisting the urge to climb back into the police car and flee to the safety of her house, she swiped her damp hands on her pants. She could do this. She would do it. She wrapped her arms around her waist, then a moment later dropped them to her sides. Shaking on the inside, she forced one foot in front of the other as she walked up the slight incline. Already in place, a backhoe loomed as if it were a monster waiting to devour the earth. Three men stood nearby.
Conversations faded as the two men in coveralls studied her with obvious curiosity. Straightening, she took a fortifying breath of the crisp spring Oklahoma air, then briefly pressed her purse to her chest. Knowing her daughter’s stuffed rabbit lay inside gave Sara a small measure of comfort.
A taller, more muscular man stood apart from the other two, his piercing gaze examining her. A tingling sensation slid down her spine. It settled in the pit of her stomach as their gazes locked. She deliberately turned her head—shifting her attention back to the grave—focusing on the headstone already lying on the ground several feet away. The fresh flowers she’d dutifully left three days earlier were partially crushed under the grave marker.
Images of the day they’d laid her husband to rest six months ago—as well as the horror later in the day—were branded into her soul. Hours after she’d left the cemetery, her five-week-old daughter had been stolen from her crib, ripping a hole in Sara’s heart so huge she was surprised she’d been able to breathe, much less function. The only thing that kept her on her feet was the relentless and never ending search for Kaycee.
For six months, she’d been frantic to find her baby. Worry, guilt, and frustration at not finding any clues, nor having received a ransom note, kept Sara’s nerves on edge. Even when she could wind down enough to sleep a few hours, her dreams were riddled with questions. Did Kaycee have enough food? Was she warm? Did they rock her to sleep at night or just plop her into a crib, not caring whether a blanket had been tucked in properly? Sara slept so lightly, she often thought she heard Kaycee crying and jump out of bed, rushing to the nursery. Only after she’d turned on the light would she realize she’d been imagining things.
Detective Cannon’s voice jerked her back to the present. “Morgan, this is Sara Adams. Mrs. Adams, this is Morgan Daniels.”
“Ma’am.”
She gave a brief nod, trying not to meet the man’s sharp gaze. His nearness caused her already jagged nerves to tingle. She didn’t like him—didn’t like the way he made her feel as if she were under a microscope, inspected from the inside out. But her curiosity got the best of her. “Are you with the police department, Mr. Daniels?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a private investigator.”
Sara frowned. She looked from one man to the other. “And you’re here, why?”
He didn’t answer, but shot a quick look at Cannon.
“Mrs. Adams, as we told you on the phone, you don’t have to be here. I’ll keep you informed of our findings so why don’t I call a squad car to take you home?” The detective took a step toward the street, gesturing for her to follow.
“I have to be here.” She backed up to make her point, and to put a little distance between her and Daniels. The man unsettled her.
Cannon sighed. “Fine. If you’ll step over here, the men can get started.”
He gave the go ahead and the workmen moved to the machinery. The monstrosity roared to life. Its huge claw lifted, dipped into the soft earth and left a deep gouge in its wake. Dumping the contents nearby, it came back for another bite as the man at the controls deftly shifted the levers, bouncing with the movement of the machine. Sara turned away. She needed to be here, had to prove to herself she could do this, yet she was unable to watch them desecrate Jason’s grave.
The noise of the machine was deafening. She’d walked a few feet away when sudden movement to her left caught her attention. Daniels. She stiffened at his approach. Without a word, he extended his hand, palm up, and produced a pair of earplugs still in the plastic wrap. Hesitating only a moment, she reached for the little bag, quickly ripped it open, then stuffed the plugs into her ears. The noise, still loud, was now tolerable.
She looked up, intending to thank him, but he’d already refocused his attention on the ever growing pit. His brows were furrowed, his jaw set, as if he were willing something to happen—some dark secret to be revealed. Of course, that was why they were exhuming Jason’
s body, to find some secret. Right? But they wouldn’t find anything. There was nothing mysterious about her husband except he’d worked himself into an early grave.
As she turned back toward the gravesite, she decided it didn’t matter what Daniels was looking for, she’d never see him again. Which was fine. Even though he hadn’t said anything, she had the distinct feeling he disliked her, as if she’d done something wrong. She had, but how would he know?
As each scoop of earth was dumped on the ground, Sara’s heart lurched. Lips pressed tightly together, she fisted her hands inside the lightweight jacket. When the noise of the machine finally died, she glanced at Daniels to gauge his reaction. He stood so still, the man reminded her of one of the nearby statues. Cold. Unmovable.
Even though everyone else took out their earplugs, Sara left hers in. The quiet soothed her shattered nerves. The workers picked up shovels and jumped into the hole. She inched forward, sensing Daniels close by.
After a few minutes of digging, they suddenly stopped.
“What the—?” The older of the two men in the grave tipped his hardhat back.
“What is it?” Detective Cannon moved to the edge of the hole.
“It’s a plastic bag, but it sure wasn’t here when we planted the sti…” The man glanced in Sara’s direction. “Um, when we filled in the grave. Let me see what’s inside.”
‘Don’t touch it!” Detective Cannon yelled.
But he’d already reached down, ripping open the bag. “Dear Lord.” Grim faced, he looked up at Cannon. “It’s a baby.”
“Sweet Mother of Jesus.” The younger man jumped back and crossed himself.
“Get out of my crime scene and don’t touch anything else.” Anger filled the detective’s voice.
Sara’s world tilted. Her heart refused to beat. “Kaycee.” The word was little more than a whimper as she lunged for the grave’s edge.
Hands of steel grabbed her arms, stopping her from tumbling into the opening. She struggled to get free. Twisting, she found herself almost nose to nose with Daniels. “Let me go. I have to…I have to go to…”
She had to reach her child—had to hold her. She could still hear her daughter’s gurgles of joy during her bath, smell the baby lotion, recall the hours of rocking her and singing lullabies each night. Even the two o’clock feedings had never been a chore. Motherhood had settled over Sara like a soft blanket of snow that covered the land…quiet, peaceful, comforting.
It completed her.
Sara pushed against Daniels’ chest. She didn’t want to be touched…didn’t want to be here anymore. His arms were now wrapped around her body and refused to yield. She squeezed her eyes closed.
Despite her attempt to ward off the images of what they’d just found, they crept into her consciousness, seeping into every pore in her body. Overwhelming—overtaking. Her hands shook as bile climbed the back of her throat. Her chest constricted. She couldn’t breathe. When black dots danced before her eyes, she welcomed them—embraced them. And prayed once she entered the dark hole, she could keep going. A roar filled her ears as her legs buckled, and she began the descent into blessed oblivion.
She drifted, lost in a dream world. Her daughter ran into her arms, laughing, strong, healthy and beautiful, just as Sara knew she would be. Contentment settled within her. All was right with the world. Finally.
The roaring in her ears began again, and Kaycee drifted away. Sara hung on to the fleeting image, but the dream faded into the distance, out of her reach. She groaned, wanting to remain.
“Can you hear me?”
Go away. She drew into herself, desperate to remain with her daughter. Kaycee, baby. Come to Mama. Please, sweetie, come home!
“Mrs. Adams.” The voice’s rich timbre beckoned and drew her from the abyss.
A light breeze caressed her face as the smell of fresh cut grass permeated her muddled brain. Surrendering, she blinked and forced her eyes open. Daniels leaned over her. His features had softened, pity replacing the cold expression he’d worn before.
“You okay?” Detective Cannon asked.
Sara turned her head to find him squatting on her other side. Letting her focus stray past him, she saw the grave a fair distance away. How did she get here? Daniels, she remembered. Struggling upright, she paused briefly at the warmth of his hand pressing on her back, assisting. As soon as she was on her feet, she stepped away from his touch, away from those dark brooding eyes and his overpowering presence. His black hair only emphasized the stubble on his square jaw and the sense of danger she felt emanating from him.
Her nerves frayed, she faced Detective Cannon. “You don’t think tha—that’s Kaycee, do you?” Please, God, no! A shudder rolled through her. Her legs felt rubbery, unsteady. Another thought struck her. “Was the child alive when…?” There was no way to finish the sentence. Not for her.
The detective’s lips thinned. “It’s your husband’s grave. If the baby isn’t yours, then whose would it be?”
She swallowed, shaking her head.
“Mrs. Adams, when did your daughter disappear?”
She glanced from one man to the other. Cannon’s brows were drawn into a V, while Daniels’ were raised in question. She didn’t know why, but some instinct deep within her told her to not give up on her own child. Forcing her voice to sound stronger than she felt, she said, “I have no idea who that poor baby is or who he or she belonged to. But it isn’t mine.” She had to hold onto that belief, that hope. If she lost either of those two things, she’d lose the last shred of her sanity.
When neither responded, she said, “I’ll gladly provide DNA to prove it.”
“I’ll take you up on the offer. Now, this is officially a crime scene. I need you to go home but remain available for questions. And, you are not to leave town, understand?”
Sara glared at him, at the implication. “Detective, I’m not going anywhere until I have my daughter back. Do you understand?”
He gave a sharp nod, then pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll get you a cab.”
She hadn’t wanted to come to the cemetery in the first place, but simply couldn’t let them dig up Jason’s grave without her there. Now the thought of staying here one minute longer became unbearable.
“I’ll take her,” Daniels said. Picking up her purse, he handed it to her. He gestured toward a black SUV parked in front of Cannon’s standard issue navy blue sedan.
She allowed him to direct her away from the proceedings and glanced over her shoulder in time to see the detective striding toward the grave. What did he think they’d find? Surely any potential evidence was long gone by now, if, indeed, the plastic bag and its gruesome contents had been in the grave all this time. Although, maybe trace evidence remained that would help solve the mystery. She hoped so.
Sara drew into herself, into survival mode, the one that had maintained her for months. If she could compartmentalize these latest emotions and events, then tuck them back into a corner where she could shut the door like she’d done when Jason had died, she might make it through the rest of the day. But when she climbed into Daniels’ vehicle and he slid behind the wheel, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. The man’s presence sucked the air from her lungs. She tried her best to ignore him, and thankfully he remained quiet. As they left the cemetery, the Riverbend Mobile Crime Scene Lab rounded the corner. Sara looked the other way as the vehicle passed.
The ride home seemed much longer than the fifteen-minute trip with Detective Cannon earlier. Sara felt as if she’d aged a century within the span of less than an hour. A hot, soaking bath and a couple Valium might help drive away the all too vivid images that were now burned into her brain. She wouldn’t indulge herself, though. She refused to give in to the temptation of letting drugs rule her life, no matter what horror she faced. Years of being in the public spotlight had taught her to always remain in control, to never let your guard down no matter what.
Automatically, she drew her purse—drew Kaycee’s lop eared rabbit
—closer, resisting the urge to hug the bag. Instead, she lifted her chin and forced her shoulders back. It took all her concentration to keep her hands from shaking, the burning tears from spilling down her cheeks. It didn’t matter if Daniels would understand. If she let herself slip even one iota, there’d be no stopping a complete and utter breakdown. She couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not yet. Her baby needed her.
Daniels didn’t ask for directions, pulling into her drive as if he’d done it a hundred times. She threw him a look, intending to ask just how he knew, but suddenly was too tired. What did it matter, anyway?
As soon as he cut the engine, she climbed from the SUV and headed for the house. She needed solitude. Now. However, her hands shook so badly she couldn’t get the key in the lock. Daniels suddenly wrapped his hand around hers and unlocked the door. Sara’s heart skipped a beat at his touch…at his nearness. He released her as he swung the door wide. Without looking up, she stepped around him, feeling weak and exposed for not being able to open her own door.
The weight of the morning’s revelations sat on her chest, suffocating her as if she’d been locked in one of the tombs in the cemetery. Setting her purse on the hall table, she retrieved the stuffed rabbit, cuddling it. She headed into the drawing room, the sound of her heels echoing on the marble floor.
A moment later, the front door clicked shut.
Good. He was gone.
The murky shadows magnified her mood, but today the gloom was unbearable. Desperate for some relief, she pulled the heavy drapes open. Rays of the morning sun bounced off the crystal chandelier, throwing rainbows of light around the room as dust motes floated through the air. When she pivoted, Daniels stood in the doorway. A squeak escaped as she threw her hand over her mouth.
“Good Lord. I thought you’d left.”
Trying to get her rapid heart rate under control, she sank into one of the Queen Anne chairs. Why couldn’t the man take the hint and just leave?