Buried Secrets: A dark Romantic Suspense (The Buried Series Book 2)

by Vella Day

  He raised a brow. “Give me a sec to wash up.”

  “You know you’ve been looking at those dumb bones for hours. Have you learned anything?”

  Sam motioned her over to the gurney. “I’ll show you.”

  Even though she slid off the counter as gently as she could, her body complained nonetheless. “Ow.”

  Sam raced to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Her father had taught her not to show pain, because it gave the enemy an advantage. “So show me.”

  She waved off a helping hand. If he touched her, she might have to seduce him right here in the lab, pain or no pain.

  Jenna moved to the middle of the expansive room. Man, the smoke inhalation had done a number on her ability to breath. The doctor claimed it would take time—the one thing she didn’t have. She needed to find out who’d set the fire, and whether or not she’d been the target. She also needed to discover if the attack was related to the stolen bodies.

  Sam tapped the edge of the gurney as he kept a careful watch over her. “You wanted to know what I’ve learned.” Jenna nodded. “I only have a bone here, a bone there, but since most of the bones I do have come from this victim, I can tell you the woman’s right leg was about three-fourths of an inch shorter than the other. This would indicate she walked with a limp.”

  “Unless she wore a lift in her shoe.”

  “True, but it gives us a good place to start for identification purposes.”

  “Do the police have a list of missing persons you could compare to the bones?”

  “Sort of. I don’t know if you’ve read it in the papers, but there’s been a rash of grave robberies. We’re thinking maybe these belong to one of them. We’re getting the X-rays from as many as we can.”

  “Cool.” She rubbed her stomach. “I don’t think donuts are going to cut it. Do you think we could get some real food?”

  Sam gave her a tired smile. “Sure.” The tick around his eye told her he was as exhausted as she was.

  Beeps rang out from the door. A moment later, the tech girl she’d met earlier, and some other man, strode in. Worry lined their faces.

  “Carla and Chance. To what to I owe the honor?” Sam said. It was obvious from the way he puffed out his chest that he didn’t want them to know the extent of his injuries. He nodded to her. “You remember Carla. And this is a college buddy of mine who is our new pathologist, Chance Taveres.”

  They shook hands. The good-looking pathologist placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and gave him the once over. “My God, man, why didn’t you tell us about the fire? You should have called me.”

  “I had your number programmed into my cell, but I lost it in the fire.” Sam went into how he’d come to be at Jenna’s house.

  Carla slid next to her. “I can’t imagine being trapped in a burning building. That’s my worse nightmare.”

  “Mine too. To be honest, I wasn’t aware of much after the living room glass blew out. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Sam saved me.” She smiled, and then swallowed the pain in her cheeks from the effort.

  Carla planted her hands on her hips as she faced Sam. “It’s the curse.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “This has nothing to do with a curse. A curse didn’t set the fire.”

  “Maybe not, but the curse was a warning you didn’t heed. You should have told Phil you couldn’t work on these bones. I bet he would have found someone else.”

  “And admit defeat? No way. I’m not going to let some cauldron wielding weirdo scare me.”

  “You don’t look so good. You should take time off and rest.” Then Carla swung a finger at Jenna. “And you too.” Back at Sam. “My computer and I are going to do everything in our power to find the jerk who did this.”

  “Thank you,” Sam said. They exchanged a look of friendship, and Jenna relaxed. She didn’t need any competition.

  “Phil said he has something for us and will be right down,” Chance said.

  A few minutes later, the boss swung into the room with Gina right behind him. “We have some news about Franklin Manchester.”

  Jenna stiffened. His family had been the first ones to contact the department about the cemetery robbery.

  “Good news, I hope,” Sam said.

  “Laxman did the DNA comparison and your young male is indeed Mr. Manchester.”

  She experienced a short burst of relief. Maybe now his family could have closure.

  Sam’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s great. One down, one to go.” He leaned back against the counter. “Do the police have any news on the arsonist?”

  Jenna held her breath.

  “No, but we did find footprints outside the garage,” Phil said. “They’ll want to take your prints to rule them out. We also found an empty gas can tossed next to where your garage used to be.”

  “Can’s not mine.”

  “We figured.” Phil shook his head. “Some people are too stupid to live. Whoever did this probably wasn’t a seasoned arsonist, which will help the cops catch him.”

  “My boss, Deidra Willows, has big feet. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was the culprit.”

  “Sorry, Jen,” Phil said. “We checked her out too. She was at the hospital with her sister at the time of the fire.”

  “Shelby had her baby?” Her energy spiked.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Is Deidra Willows was a person of interest?” She knew she was, but asking too many insightful questions would send up a red flag.

  Phil tossed her a strange look. Oh shit. She shouldn’t have used the phrase, person of interest.

  “Yes. Ever since we connected her to Creighton Jackson, we’ve kept an eye on her.”

  “Have you made any progress on the identity of Jackson’s killer?” Sam said.

  “Not yet.” Phil nodded to the table. “Any luck on the other cauldron victim?”

  “Just that one leg was three-fourths of an inch shorter than the other, and that the victim was around thirty.”

  Carla stepped over to the gurney and looked ready to pass out. “How did this person die?”

  “Blunt force trauma to the head. If you look at the radial nature of the cracks, you can see the damage was pretty severe.”

  Carla’s face paled. “Can you tell what the killer hit her with?”

  Jenna studied Carla. The woman’s respiration rate jumped to at least twenty-four breaths a minute, way too high for someone her age.

  “I never said the vic was female.”

  She looked up, her mouth half open. “I just thought—.”

  “Well you’re right. Part of her pelvis was in the cauldron, which helped me identify the sex. As for the wound, I haven’t matched any particular weapon, but it was a rather large one.”

  Carla grabbed the edge of the counter as if she needed support. “I need to go.”

  Chance wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Not really.” She turned and left with Chance right behind.

  A flash of concern crossed Gina’s face. “Hope Carla’s going to be okay.”

  Sam nodded. “She’s been acting strange lately.”

  “I’ve noticed it too. I’ll speak with her.” Gina placed a stack of photos on the counter. “Here’s what we have in regards to the Missing Persons who fit your initial biological profile. Happy hunting.” She turned to Jenna. “Is there anything we can do to help you two?”

  How thoughtful of her. “No, thanks.” She held up a hand. “On second thought, could you order us some pizza?” No way would Sam leave now and get food.

  Sam lips scrunched up and his brows pinched together. Phil and Gina laughed. “My pleasure.”

  Guess he didn’t do junk food. His loss.

  Sam handed her the package. “Would you mind looking through those to see which women were reported missing in the last year?”

  “Sure. I’ll do anything I can to help bring this guy to justice. I’m even betting the same person who stole the bone
s is the same person who torched your house.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  Jenna moved back over to the computer area and cleared a space. She separated the photos according to date. She was less than half way done when Carla came back into the lab and handed Sam a picture. “It’s Daphne. The damaged skull belongs to my sister.” She gazed longingly at the woman’s remains on the table.

  He studied the photo. “The nun? The one who disappeared six months...” Realization shimmied across his face.

  “Yes. That one.”

  “And you think—”

  “Yes. She was driving down from Ohio to visit, but never made it here. She fits your description to a T.”

  12

  Carla raced back to her office, bile rising in her throat, with Chance right behind her once more. She spun around. “Why are you here?” That was rude, but her mind wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Did you think I’d leave after you announced you believed your sister was dead?”

  Yes. “I don’t know.” What was it in for him?

  He helped her sit. “How can you be sure the remains belong to your sister?”

  Carla sniffled. Overwhelmed with the reality, she began to sob. Her heart knew Daphne was gone. “How many people have one leg shorter than the other and are the right height and age as my sister? Besides, she disappeared a little over six months ago. Everything fits.”

  “I’m sorry. You said she was driving down to visit you. Did the police ever find her car?”

  “No. That’s what gave my parents hope. I knew Daphne wanted out of the convent. She was confused and thought I could help her figure out her life.” She swallowed and grabbed a tissue. “But she never arrived. At first I thought she’d changed her mind and returned home.”

  Chance knelt down in front of her. “Could she have moved to another state and not told anyone?”

  “No. Not Daphne. It’s bad enough to find out your beloved sister is really... dead, but to have someone steal her bones is horrifying.” Carla wiped the tears from her cheeks. “She gave her life to God. That shouldn’t happen to her. He shouldn’t have let anyone do that to her.”

  Chance rubbed her arm and, for a moment, her mind moved away from the tragedy.

  “Are you going to tell your parents what you suspect?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. Not yet. I’ll have to receive definitive proof it’s her before I expose them to the grief.”

  “They can compare your DNA to those in the bones.”

  “I know.” Carla broke down again. Stupid hormones. “This is going to kill my parents.”

  Chance closed the blinds covering her office window before pulling up a chair. He took her hands in his. “Carla, isn’t knowing the truth better than living in limbo?”

  Could the man read her mind or what? “For me, yes. For my parents? I’m not sure. They still live with hope in their hearts. I’m not sure I want to take that away from them.” Carla searched Chance’s face.

  Sympathy poured from his eyes. “Eventually, they’ll have to be told.”

  “I know, but not now.”

  “Are you going to keep the fact you’re pregnant from them too?”

  She jerked up. “Pregnant?”

  “I haven’t known you long, but the flushed face, the rushing to the bathroom, all tell me you might be.” He pointed to a stain on her blouse. Vomit.

  She squeezed his hand tight. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “You don’t sound happy about it.”

  He didn’t promise. “It’s not under the best of circumstances.”

  “I’m guessing there’s no reliable father around.”

  “No.” She inhaled, needing to get it out in the open. “I was raped.”

  “Oh, Carla. I’m so sorry. Did you report it?”

  All she could do was shake her head. Her throat had closed up.

  Carla was tired of being alone. If only Daphne had been here, she’d know what to do. “I couldn’t. My parents would have found out. They were still upset over Daphne being missing. Learning about the rape and my pregnancy would have sent them over the edge.”

  “Honesty is the best policy. They’ll find out about the baby at some point regardless of how hard you try to keep it a secret. These things have a way of coming out. Perhaps not right away, but in two, three years from now. They’ll be hurt you didn’t think enough of them to ask for their guidance.”

  Carla had never met a man with such compassion. She’d opened up to Chance about her attack, and amazingly, he seemed to understand what she’d been through.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She rubbed her stomach. The baby wasn’t in a good mood. “Once I figure out who did this to me, I’ll talk with them.”

  “Go to the police now.” He trailed his fingers along her shoulder. “Did you get a good look at him?”

  “Yes. I see him in my dreams every night.”

  “They’ll fade.” She didn’t deserve such kindness—especially from someone so good-looking and smart. She was a geek. And fat. Not someone he’d find attractive. Chance slapped his thighs. “I need to get some work done, and you need to tell the police.”

  “I will.” Someday. She wanted to ask him to stay but then thought better of it. “Thanks for listening.”

  “Anytime, princess.” Chance winked and slipped out.

  Princess? She knew he didn’t mean anything by the endearment, but the way he said it made her feel special. Why couldn’t she have met him two years ago when she was slim and whole?

  Enough. She had a stack of informational requests from the department to handle. Carla turned back to her monitor and noticed the file she’d labeled in pink—Jenna Richman’s file. She’d uncovered the information Sam had requested but couldn’t muster the courage to tell him his new female friend was really Jenna Holliday, an undercover cop.

  To double-check the accuracy of her report, Carla had called the precinct and pretended to be someone else. They’d confirmed Jenna’s status. Damn. She guessed she could tell Sam about Jenna’s mom’s death too but shouldn’t Jenna be the one to tell him about her other life?

  Crap. Sometimes this job sucked.

  The only good news was that Sam hadn’t hooked up with someone who might have had it in for him. Jenna was as upstanding as they came.

  Jenna had placed the last of the photos in the pile labeled two years or more when her phone rang. Sam glanced over at her, and she mouthed, “A friend.” This was awkward. “Hello?”

  It was Captain Lucas. Damn. “Jenna, we received another headless body. I need you to meet me at Ballast Point Pier—and bring Sam.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t work for me.”

  There was a long pause on the line. “I take it he still doesn’t know you’re working on the graveyard case.”

  “Among other things.”

  Sam was, in theory, searching through the database in the computer next to her. He’d told her he wanted to see if he could match the skull to one of the photos, and she could tell by the angle of his head he was listening to her conversation.

  “He’s within hearing distance then.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you get away? I need you to photograph the scene. My two best CSU photography techs are out on another case.”

  “The doctor said I need to take it easy for the next few weeks.”

  “Shit. I forgot.”

  “If you need me, I’ll come.”

  “I do. Thanks,” Lucas said.

  “Sure.” The captain disconnected. “What are your symptoms?” She waited a beat. “I can pick up your medicine no problem. I’ll come over now.” She punched the off button. Now for the best acting job in the world.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

  Jenna stored her phone and stood. “My aunt is having some heart problems. I need to pick up her medication, and then stay with her for a while. Do you think you can catch a ride back to my place?”

 
Sam studied her for a moment. “Yeah. Hope everything works out.”

  “Thanks.”

  God. Jenna hated lying to him, but now wasn’t the time to tell him she was a cop. Not that it should make a difference, but men as straight as Sam would never forgive her. The lie would sever their tenuous bond, and that would be terrible on many levels.

  She met the captain forty minutes later at Ballast Point with her camera in hand. Police cars rimmed the park. Giombetti and Maken were there too. Blue skies and a pleasant breeze would have made for a pretty day. The spoilers were the lack of children around the swings, and the hoard of fishermen across the street, smoking up a storm, complaining the police were preventing them from catching fish off the pier. It was a shame, but the cops had a job to do.

  One man whistled as she ducked under the tape. Please. With her face bandaged, she hardly looked the picture of health or sex appeal.

  She spotted her boss and made her way to him. “Hey.”

  “You sure you’re up for this?”

  “No, but I was going stir crazy doing nothing. What have we got?” She glanced at the body covered in chunks of cement with one exposed hand, heaped next to the mangrove bushes.

  “The white power on his fingers is lime. Someone was in a hurry. He forgot to hide all of the victim. After you take the pictures, we can uncover the guy. Troy has already videoed the scene.”

  Jenna squatted next to the body and snapped away from the head to his feet. Seaweed, fish, and algae dampened the smell of the decomposition. It took her all of five minutes to complete the job. “I’m finished photographing the rocks.” And the exposed hand.

  Bill Trundell and Johanna Ross, two CSU techs, carefully removed the rock-like cement around the body, storing the pieces in a clean dumpster-sized container. She wondered why one of them couldn’t have taken the photos. She’d seen their work. It was good. Maybe her boss wanted to make up for not telling about finding the cauldron right away. He was considerate like that.

  Once the techs lifted the last of the rocks, Jenna recoiled at the site. The headless man had no legs. A Creighton Jackson clone. Almost. “Christ.”