Buried Secrets_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  “I can give a tour tomorrow if you’d like.” At the least, she could be friendly.

  Then he checked her out from head to toe and smiled. “If I have time, sure.”

  His clear eyes lightened, and she refused to address the tingling that shot up her body at the intimate look. “Are you here to see about the bodies we received today?” She lifted her chin a notch.

  He squared his broad shoulders and sobered. “Yes. I’ve been working on a case involving the disappearance of some Seminole Indians, and I’m wondering if the men we sent over might be two of the eight I’ve been searching for.”

  Her muscles tightened. “Eight Native Americans are missing?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “So many disappearances can’t be a coincidence. Are you thinking a hate crime is involved?”

  “It’s too early to tell.” Detective Kinsey headed over to the coffin and peered in. “What did you do with them?”

  She pointed across the room to the large pots inside the hooded maceration station. He appeared to be a no nonsense guy. If he could be forthright, so could she. “I’m cooking them.” She raised her brows daring him to grimace.

  Instead of making a comment, he strode over to the station. If he lifted the clear Plexiglas hood, the escaped smell would fell even the most seasoned cop.

  He gazed in, and spun back toward her. “Mind if I wait around to see if your men match mine?”

  This man would only get in her way. It didn’t matter he looked like some sexy Florida rancher with his dark blond hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck—or that his rough cheek stubble and tanned skin made him appear as though he’d been outside riding all day. Given Tampa was nothing but urban sprawl, he couldn’t be a real cowboy, but the impression lingered, nonetheless.

  “The bones won’t be ready until tomorrow at the earliest. Besides, I don’t know for sure if the men are Native American. I need time to study the skulls.” The last thing she wanted was to make a fool of herself in front her boss’ friend.

  She hurried toward the door, pulled open the latch, and swept an arm toward the corridor. He might appear to be a gentleman, but when it came to the job, he’d probably be demanding, over-confident, and insensitive to the needs of the victims.

  Okay, that wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done anything to deserve those labels, but the last two detectives she’d been around fit the bill.

  He didn’t move. “Did you discover any distinguishing marks on the men?”

  “I haven’t found anything to help me tell them apart, if that’s what you mean, other than the difference in the amount of hair and soft tissue present.”

  “The families have been waiting for closure for as long as ten months.”

  She slapped a free hand on her hip. “I just received the bodies.”

  “I have a few more questions.” He picked up the large envelope from the counter, not even blinking at her outburst.

  So much for a meaningful conversation. She let the door shut and marched up to him, invading his space. “What makes you think this case is any more important than the arson case I’ve been working on for the last month?” She didn’t need to let him know Phil told her this job needed to be her main concern.

  His lips thinned. “I have two dental X-rays and one MRI from three of the families. If you’ll just take a look, maybe you’ll be able to tell me if one of your cadavers is one of my men.” He emptied the X-rays into his hand and offered them to her.

  Did he say, his men? Okay. That changed her opinion of him a little. She stepped back. She liked a man who cared, a man who put his heart and soul into the job like she did. Maybe he wasn’t the typical law enforcement type like she’d first thought.

  Logic sped ahead of emotion. If her two skeletons were among these eight missing men, she’d finish her identification process with time to spare. She’d be the first to admit she was excited to delve into the search, just not with Trevor Kinsey peering over her shoulder. His presence took up the whole room—all twelve hundred square feet of it.

  She eased the medical data from his fingers and set the transparencies on the counter. “I was on my way out, but I promise I’ll give them my attention tomorrow.”

  It was his turn to step too close. His body relaxed, and he tossed her a slightly crooked smile, complete with earth shattering dimples. “Sure you can’t examine them now?”

  “It won’t do any good.” She’d be damned if she let him use his masculine appeal to get her to do his bidding. “Like I said, the skulls are still...” She couldn’t come up with another way to say it, so she merely nodded toward the large vats.

  He cocked a brow. “Cooking? I know.”

  “Yes.”

  His shoulders stiffened. “Tomorrow then.” He took two steps toward the door.

  Oh, what the hell. “Wait.” She didn’t want their time to end. She spent enough time cooped up alone in the lab.

  He whipped around, his eyes wide. “Yes?” He closed the gap between them in less than a heartbeat.

  She eased back. “Look, I know what it means to want something.” Like friends, success, mainstream treatment. “While I can’t compare the X-rays to the skulls yet, can you tell me a little about these men? Do you know their heights? Ages? Maybe that will help eliminate them.” During her preliminary study of the bones she’d estimated the two men’s biological profile.

  Trevor rattled off the numbers for all eight, his eyes shining brighter with each description. Impressed he’d memorized every detail, she let out a breath.

  The muscles in his shoulders bunched as he leaned forward. “Does that tell you anything?”

  “Yes. When I first received the bones, I guesstimated the one in his thirties to be about five foot nine, and the older one three inches shorter.”

  His warm eyes sparkled. “That fits.”

  “It doesn’t prove my skeletons are your men.” A small laugh escaped at his naivety. “If only it were that easy.”

  “I realize that, Dr. Romano.”

  She couldn’t tell if he’d mocked her or if his comment had been tinged with sadness. Before she could get a read on his expression, he rotated around to the counter near the door, picked up the smaller envelope he’d placed there and spread out eight photos side by side. “Take a look at these.”

  As she stepped next to him, his spicy cologne took her by surprise. She hadn’t expected a detective to wear such an enticing scent—strong, clean, and masculine.

  “Dr. Romano? Is something wrong?”

  This spacing out had to stop. Look at the pictures, Lara. “No.”

  She dropped her gaze and angled the 4x6’s toward her. All appeared to be male Native Americans. Two stood next to children, three huddled beside women, and the last few were single shots. Make those blurry, single shots where the heads were either profiles, or tilted to the side. All useless for identification purposes.

  He leaned in closer to her, and her breath caught. She forced herself to study the images and ignore the pressure building in her chest. Four were taken at a construction site and the rest were inside what appeared to be a large recreational room. “From their cheekbone structure and the slant to their forehead, I’d say they’re Seminole.”

  “You nailed it.”

  Lara’s stomach sickened. She pressed her eyes shut, not wanting to have a connection to these missing men.

  Before they could discuss the case further, his cell rang. The ring tone was some piece of classical music she couldn’t identify. It wasn’t what she’d have guessed for such a macho man. She had stereotyped him too quickly. Shame on her.

  He pulled the phone from his hip pocket and held up a finger. Given he mostly listened, she couldn’t get the gist of the conversation—not that she was eavesdropping or anything.

  Twenty seconds later, he pocketed his cell and avoided meeting her gaze. “I have to leave. Let me know what you find out regarding the men. Okay?” He slid his business card on the counter.

&nbs
p; “Sure, but I—”

  Then he was gone, the door closing faster than usual.

  She blew out a long, steady breath. “Goodbye to you too, Detective Kinsey.”

  And here she thought he might want to match the men to her profile. Lara tucked her hair behind her ear trying to figure out if she’d said something wrong. Some unidentifiable and unpleasant emotion swirled in her belly. Her childhood therapist explained that labeling her anxieties would help her cope with the insular world. Fine. The sensation was either frustration at not having helped him or a deep yearning to work with someone. She’d grown up so alone, her dreams were made from the idea of being a part of a team. Classmates had laughed at her, teachers often became impatient, and when it came time to pick lab partners, no one wanted to work with her because she wasn’t cool enough for them.

  Aw, hell. What did it matter? She had a job to do. Nothing got done by standing around.

  Lara had planned to leave, but her need to help pushed her other priorities down a notch, so she slid on a fresh lab coat. If the X-rays and MRI he’d brought didn’t indicate the men had the right slant to the forehead, she might eliminate them. If the images did match her men, she’d win, he’d win.

  She lifted the films and slapped the first X-ray on the light board. The man’s dental work showed he was missing the second and third premolar as well as one incisor. She opened the computer files of the digital images she’d shot of both skulls. The first one wasn’t a match, the second inconclusive, and a shard of disappointment stabbed her.

  The next X-ray didn’t match either. Damn it. Lastly, she peered at the MRI. And froze.