by Joya Fields
Garrett pulled his hand from hers and pinched the bridge of his nose. The scent of rotten saltwater filled the room.
Sheriff Leffler broke the silence. “Is it Tessa? Do you recognize the clothing?” he asked quietly.
Garrett stared unblinking at the bones. Brooke placed a hand on his arm and noted his ashen face. He lifted his gaze to the sheriff, and nodded slowly.
His eyes glistened and he nodded again. He leaned closer to the box. A lone tear streaked down her check.
Garrett squared his shoulders, as if resolving to put on a brave front. Then he stepped forward. “What’s that?” he asked, his voice cracking.
She’d been so busy worrying about Garrett that she’d tucked her usual archaeological interest aside. But now, she followed his gaze and noticed something glinting in the glare of the M.E.’s spotlight.
The M.E. stepped forward and used a pair of tongs to lift out something shiny.
Tessa’s earring.
With sad eyes, Garrett backed away from the box.
“We found the matching earring at the dock,” Brooke said. She held both hands on Garrett’s arm, worried that this was all too much for him. She suddenly understood his need to protect, because she felt it herself right now. She wanted to guard him from hurt, protect him from bad things. Because she cared.
Isn’t that all he was doing with her? Showing he cared?
She shook the thought away. She’d save it for later when she had more time for it. Right now, she needed to concentrate on the faces in this room.
Garrett closed his eyes and flinched as if he’d been hit in the gut. “It’s Tessa’s earring. It’s her.”
The M.E. and sheriff both nodded and, as if on some kind of unspoken cue, gave Garrett peace and quiet to absorb the facts.
Garrett opened his eyes and stared at the floor. “Was she dead before they put her in the box or was she buried alive in the ocean?”
A chill traveled down Brooke’s spine, and she turned her gaze to the M.E.
“Since we only have bones and fabric, I can’t look for the usual signs of drowning—water in her lungs, discoloration of her eyes, or certain bruising patterns on her body.” The M.E. stepped forward and peered into the box. “Scratch marks on the inside would indicate she tried to get out, was still alive. But I don’t see any.”
Garrett stared at the box. “So she died before she was put in there?”
The M.E. shrugged. “Cause of death will be hard to determine. Unless I find evidence that says otherwise, I’d say the lack of scratches on the inside lends itself to your theory.”
Garrett shook his head. “I need to talk to my aunt and uncle.”
Brooke’s tears fell freely, and she leaned closer. “Garrett, I’m so sorry.”
He blinked several times, took his gaze off the box, and then backed toward the door.
She glanced from the metal crate to Garrett’s still-white face and stepped next to him.
“Let me walk you out.” Leffler looked at the container, then moved away from it. “We’ll check for distinguishing marks once the container is empty. It’s probably a common storage box, but if we can trace it to where it was purchased, we might get a lead.”
Garrett nodded. His hand still shook in Brooke’s. His whole body trembled. She guided him to a chair outside the M.E.’s office and sat on the armrest.
“The bones you found the other day were Rico’s,” Leffler said. He pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and opened it. “It wasn’t easy, but forensics found traces of propofol in the cells of the bones.” He thumbed through a few pages and pointed to his notes.
Garrett stared ahead, as if he hadn’t even heard the sheriff.
“What does that mean?” Brooke asked.
The sheriff faced her. “It means all of this is connected—and I’m betting we’ll find propofol when we test….” he hesitated, then continued, “when we test the bones—or even better, any tissue—from that box.”
Garrett snapped to attention, and color started to return to his face. “The boat, the bodies…Brooke? All connected?”
Brooke stiffened. “The person who killed Rico is the same person who drugged Jeff and me and maybe Tessa?” She was glad that the dazed look was gone from Garrett’s eyes, but the sheriff’s news meant a killer was still out there.
Leffler knuckled his eyes. “I don’t know yet. It’s likely there’s a connection. We’ll check on that box in there, see if it’s something we can trace. That might give us a clue. I think you all got too close to finding the bodies and somebody wanted to stop you. Have you noticed anyone suspicious around you? Anyone that stood out for any reason?”
An image flashed in Brooke’s mind. It seemed like nothing at the time, but the tall black man, the orderly with an afro. She’d seen him in several places, but aside from his outdated appearance, nothing stood out. Coincidence?
“Not really. I’ve seen a tall black man around in a lot of the same places we’ve gone, but I don’t know if I’d call that suspicious.”
Leffler scribbled in his notepad. “I’ll see if anyone else at the crime scenes reported him. For now, be diligent about your safety.”
“Yes,” Brooke said.
Leffler clapped a hand on Garrett’s shoulder and nodded. “We’ll get the tests started on Tessa and let you know the minute we find anything.” He stared at Garrett, concern in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I’d better get back in there.”
At Garrett’s nod, the sheriff returned to the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
Garrett rose and stood by the M.E’s door. He stared through the small window. “She was shoved in there, fetal position.”
“I know.”
He closed his eyes, took a breath, then looked at Brooke. “I have to believe she didn’t suffer, wasn’t stuffed inside alive.”
Brooke shivered at the thought of a long, slow death. She’d wondered the same thing when she saw the bones. “Sounds like the M.E. would agree with that.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Garrett.”
He crossed the room and touched her cheek gently with the back of his forefinger. He ran it along her jawline and sent shivers through her body. She couldn’t leave him now. She wasn’t sure she could ever leave him.
With a loud sigh, he turned and headed for the stairs with her hand in his. “I’d better get this over with. I need to tell Aunt Kitty. She’s been holding out hope for so long.”
Brooke squeezed his hand, trying to give him strength. She wasn’t sure how much extra she had today. “Would it help if I came with you?”
A small smile whisked across his lips, but he shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’d better handle this on my own.”
Clouds blocked the weak afternoon sun. They exited the sheriff’s office and walked to his bike.
He unhooked her helmet and held it out to her. She placed her hand over his. “I’ll get a ride.” She tapped her wrist. “I’m going to head to the hospital to see if I can get a custodian to open Merrick’s office. My dad’s watch could be lodged in a sofa cushion or somewhere in the examining room. I can’t leave without knowing I’ve checked everywhere.”
His brown eyes, sad with worry and grief, peered down at her. He cradled her chin and lifted her face. “So you’re leaving tonight?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t think I can. At least, not tonight.” She swallowed to keep her voice from cracking.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile. He pressed his lips against hers. She moved a hand behind his head and he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. He pulled away and she kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, savoring the taste of him.
“Good luck at the doctor’s.”
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m so sorry.”
He straddled his bike and kept his head down.
She whispered a quick prayer for his safety when Garrett—without a helmet—disappeared on his motorcycle around the corner.
; ****
She pulled out her cell phone to call for a cab and spotted Hal Fisher—the deputy that Garrett disliked—strolling down the front steps of the sheriff’s office.
“Brooke, right?” He stepped in front of her.
She nodded.
“Hell of a thing finding that box…er, Tessa.” His blue eyes registered pain. What was it Garrett had said about Fisher? A “by the book” kind of guy.
Fisher glanced around the lot. “Where’s Garrett?”
“With his aunt and uncle.”
Hal nodded and his face grew serious. His brows edged together. “I wouldn’t want to be him right now.” He looked like he wanted to add something, but didn’t. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I’m off. Need a ride?”
“Uh,” she glanced at her phone, then at Fisher. It would be much easier—and quicker to get a ride. “Do you mind dropping me off at the hospital? I was just getting ready to call a cab.”
****
Garrett leaned his head against the cool paneled wall of the corner booth and wished his family’s busy pizza restaurant had a liquor license. He needed something stronger than the soda in his hand.
As the mystery of Tessa’s death unraveled, more questions pounded in his brain. What was he missing? Who would commit such a horrible crime against his cousin and why? And what did Rico’s murder have to do with any of this? Jeff had never been a very viable suspect—and the police had now ruled him out.
He tore pieces off a white paper napkin on the table in front of him, watched the employees hurrying around the restaurant.
Not too busy, but for a rainy Sunday evening, not too slow either.
He took out his phone and glanced at it. He hoped for a message from Brooke by now.
But no messages. He left his phone on the table. Worry gnawed at his gut. She didn’t like his protective nature. He’d have to resist the temptation to call her. He would wait for her to call him.
Was she still in danger? Somebody had been trying to keep Rico and Tessa’s bodies from being found. Now that the bodies were out of the ocean, he hoped whoever had targeted Brooke lost his impetus to stop them now that they’d pulled the box to the surface.
He pictured Brooke’s slow, confident smile and the way her blonde hair constantly blew in her face. He missed her. He’d known her less than a week, but she made him feel whole, as if some part of him had been missing until she came along. He cared about her more than any other woman he’d known. She said she’d stay. But for how long?
However long it would take him to convince her to stay for good. The realization made him sit bolt upright, and he spread his palms on the table. Before he could give full consideration to his thought, Hal Fisher entered the restaurant.
Hal shook his head and approached Garrett’s table.
“Heard about Tessa.” Hal closed his eyes for a long second, then reopened them. “I’m sorry.”
“Have a seat.” Garrett gestured to the cushioned bench. “Wish I could offer you something stronger than soda.”
“Nah,” Hal slid into the booth. “I gotta cover for Burcosky’s shift later tonight.” A young brunette in an apron approached the table, and Hal pointed to Garrett’s soda. “One of those.”
Garrett leaned back into the seat. “I owe you an apology, Hal. I’m sorry I got pissed off when you pulled me over for speeding. It was your job, and you did it.”
Hal shrugged. “Your gal Brooke’s quite a looker.”
Garrett chuckled. Hal had changed the subject and put it behind them. A truce. Garrett also wished Brooke really was his girl. “I don’t know if I can call her my gal.” When Hal raised a brow, Garrett added, “But don’t get any ideas about asking her out.”
Hal smirked. “I just gave her a lift about an hour ago.”
“Yeah? The hospital?”
Hal nodded.
Garrett’s cell phone rang. Diego’s number flashed on the screen. He flipped it open. “What’s up?”
“Tessa’s picture has been all over the news today. New witnesses came forward—an elderly couple. They said they know you. The Hutchinson’s. They went out of town right after Tessa disappeared. They didn’t hear about her disappearance until now.”
Garrett’s heart slammed against his ribs. A lead?
“Get this…they saw Tessa and Rico walking together the night they went missing.”
Garrett stood so fast he knocked the drinks on the table over.
“Where’d they see them?”
“At the dock.”
“No surprise there.” Garrett held up a finger to let Hal know he’d fill him in on the details in a minute.
“The man remembered overhearing Tessa say something about meeting a movie star as they crossed the parking lot.”
“What does that mean?” Garrett said, frustrated that there was a lead, but a useless one. “Did they see anyone near Tessa and Rico…or on a boat at the dock?”
“No. They didn’t want to talk to anybody but you. Said they’d come back in an hour. Can you get back here?”
“I’ll be there,” Garrett said.
Diego’s voice softened. “How’d it go with your Aunt and Uncle?”
Garrett leaned against the wall. He tried not to picture his Aunt Kitty’s face as he broke the news about Tessa.
“It’s done,” he said.
“Okay. The sheriff put a rush on the toxicity screen and it just came back. M.E. confirmed Tessa’s pregnancy and found traces of propofol in her...er…in a tissue sample they were able to salvage.”
Garrett didn’t think the wall was strong enough to hold him up. Somebody drugged his beautiful cousin, stuffed her in a box, and threw her in the water like she was nothing. Anger rushed through him like a mad wild dog, ready to tear its prey apart piece by piece. Only he didn’t know who the prey was…yet.
“Garrett?” Diego’s voice helped him focus.
“I’m here. Thanks for the info. I’ll talk to you later.” He snapped the phone shut.
Hal stood beside him. “Garrett, sit down. You look awful.”
Garrett stared ahead and let Hal push him to the seat. Then Hal threw some napkins on the table to mop up the spilled drinks.
“Tessa was pregnant and somebody killed her.”
Hal took a seat across from Garrett. He nodded and frowned, but didn’t say anything.
“An elderly couple saw Tessa and Rico the night they disappeared, heard them say something about meeting a movie star,” Garrett said.
“A movie star?” Hal echoed. “In Flagler? We don’t have stars here.”
“Yeah. Why here? What movie star? The only person I know of who has been on TV or knows any celebrities…” Garrett stood up and the table fell sideways. He bounded over it and raced for the door.
Hal stayed hot on his tail. “Garrett! Wait.”
Merrick was the only one in Flagler who knew celebrities. And Merrick knew Tessa. She would trust him. Merrick also knew Brooke. Garrett hadn’t been there to save Tessa, but he’d be damned if he’d be too late to help Brooke.
“Merrick’s had bit parts on some television shows. Crime shows, even.” Garrett shouted over his shoulder. “Call it in, Hal. Get every possible man to the hospital.”
“Wait…Garrett…” He heard Hal fumbling around chairs behind him as he ran out the front door. Garrett dialed Brooke’s cell phone as he hurried to his bike.
He got her voicemail. “Damn!”
He jammed the phone in his jeans pocket and jumped on his bike, started it, and immediately kicked it into gear. He wouldn’t be too late this time.
He roared down the highway, going faster than he knew was safe. A flashing light behind him caught his attention.
Memories crashed back to the forefront of his mind and he hit the accelerator, pressing forward. Cop or no cop, he wouldn’t get stalled. He glanced back again and spotted Hal Fisher at the wheel of the unmarked car with siren blaring and lights flashing. Hal gave him a thumbs-up signal and th
en passed him. He moved in front of Garrett, clearing traffic out of the way.
This time, he’d be there in time.
Chapter Sixteen
Brooke stepped out from the elevator onto the quiet tenth floor. She guessed most doctors were either off on Sundays, or doing rounds in the hospital. Her tennis shoes squeaked as she walked, and the noise echoed eerily through the empty halls and closed doors.
Still, she hoped to find a custodian who would take pity on her and let her check the office for her watch. She didn’t have many physical mementoes of her parents, and finding the watch would be one good thing in a very bad day. Maybe she’d get lucky and find the receptionist catching up on work.
She took a deep breath and turned the handle of his office door, not a bit surprised to find it locked. When she twisted her hand to take it off the knob, the door cracked open—it hadn’t been clicked shut.
The door squeaked and swung open a little more. Brooke looked up and down the deserted hall, reluctant to enter. She pushed the door.
Squaring her shoulders, she told herself she wasn’t breaking in. The door had been open.
“Hello?” she called. No answer. She stepped inside. First, she checked the cushions on the chair she’d occupied while waiting for Dr. Merrick. Finding only a pen and a few coins, she turned to look around the room.
The receptionist’s desk sported neat piles of paper, a silver pencil holder filled with pens and pencils, and a huge desk calendar.
Eyeing the hallway beyond the open door, Brooke crossed the room and stood at the desk. She leaned on the chair to get a good look at the calendar.
The August page had recently been torn off. September lay filled in before her. Little pencil marks with a few notations about time and names dotted the days of the month, and some days were entirely crossed out with red marker—probably the days when he was in Hollywood or Mexico.
She backed away from the desk. She’d have to call again later.
Then she heard a faint sound.
A small cry. Like a child’s. Was Dr. Merrick here with a patient?
She looked at the door she’d left open and considered leaving. But if the doctor was out of the office, why would someone be in his examining room?