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

by Vella Day

  “I know that now.”

  “Did you see who did this?”

  Carla coughed and Chance’s back stiffened. “No, I was facing the other direction watching for you.” She took another sip of water. “I didn’t hear anyone, but suddenly this hand came out of nowhere and covered my mouth and nose.”

  Sam slid into the chair next to Chance, sensing his friend could use the support. “What did he smell like?” If this person knew that Carla and Chance had something going, he or she had an inside connection to the lab, which was very scary.

  Her gaze flicked to Sam. “Hi, Sam. Smell like?”

  “Yeah. His hand was over your mouth. Did it smell like tobacco, dirt, sweat or what?”

  Her gaze moved down to the right. “He smelled like soap, but not the good kind you can buy at Bath and Body Works.” She inhaled slowly as if getting air took effort. “It was closer to an antiseptic smell. I’m sorry. It happened so fast.” Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Did you notice anything about him? Was his hand large or calloused, Negroid or Caucasian?”

  “His palm was calloused. I think he was Caucasian, but it all happened so fast I can’t be sure of anything.”

  “You’re doing great,” Chance said, rubbing his thumb over her palm.

  With her free hand, Carla grabbed her stomach and her eyes widened. She shot a glance at Chance. “Did I—”

  Chance scooted the chair closer to the bed and visibly squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry. The baby didn’t make it.”

  A sob erupted. After a long cry, she wiped her tears and sobered. “Maybe it’s for the best.” She squeezed shut her eyes, and just as fast, opened them. Her mouth rounded into an O. “Drake!”

  Chance turned to Sam. “Drake’s her dog.” Sam shifted his gaze back to her. “What about him?”

  “I forgot to take him out yesterday,” Carla said. The effort to talk was obvious. “He needs to go out. He needs to eat. Ohmigod. I can’t stay here.”

  Carla tried to sit up, but Chance was too quick. He jumped up and eased down her shoulder. “I’ll feed him.”

  Carla relaxed back on the pillow. “Really? You’d do that?” He nodded. “My key’s are in my purse.” She made Chance write down the directions to her house.

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll even walk him.”

  The same nurse who told them Carla was in her room, entered. “Time’s up, boys. I need you all to give me some space. I have to give Ms. Carla something for the pain.”

  Chance and he stood.

  “Don’t forget about Drake,” Carla said, her voice fading fast.

  “I won’t.”

  Once they returned to the waiting room, Jenna was pacing in front of a row of visitors, while Gina was flipping through a magazine. They stopped what they were doing and rushed over to them.

  “I need to feed Carla’s dog,” Chance said. “Can I borrow your car keys? I won’t be long.”

  “Sure.” She dug in her pocket, unhooked the car key, and handed it to him.

  “Thanks.” Chance hesitated.

  “Go,” Sam said. “I’ll fill them in on the extent of Carla’s injuries.” Chance looked grateful and left.

  “She looks pretty good, considering the attack. She’s pale, but that’s to be expected with her injury.”

  “Can we see her now?” Gina asked.

  “The nurse is with her.”

  “When can we—”

  A loud explosion sounded outside the Emergency Room and Sam nearly jumped out of his seat. Before he reached the door to see what had happened, two male nurses raced outside, medical bags in hand.

  Sam, Gina and Jenna shot outside and halted at the sight of flames shooting out from Jenna’s car.

  “Ohmigod,” Jenna screamed, sending an arrow straight to Sam’s heart.

  She leapt forward as if to save Chance, but he grabbed her arm. “Jenna. Don’t. You can’t do anything. No one can.”

  The fire had completely engulfed the inside of the car. Chance was dead—as were Sam’s insides.

  Less than five minutes later, sirens sounded in the background. Someone must have called the fire department. A ton of people poured out of the hospital, gawking at the scene. The stench of rubber mixed with the cloying smoke kept the onlookers far from the accident.

  Poor Chance. No fire department in the world could save him now.

  Gina looked ready to explode. He figured it was her way of coping with the terrible loss. She stalked off to the right, darted in between the cars, and then circled around the lot opposite Jenna’s car, apparently looking for the perpetrator. Someone must have set a charge on Jenna’s car. They didn’t explode by themselves, despite what television shows portrayed.

  Sam pulled Jenna to his chest and held her tight. Her body vibrated against him. As much as he wanted to soothe her, no words would form. Over her bent head, he too checked out the area, trying to identify something out of place—or rather someone he knew.

  Jenna leaned back and looked up at him, tears streaking her face. “That should have been me. He meant to harm me.”

  “Shh. We don’t know that.” It was a lie, but right now wasn’t the time to tell her he agreed with her assessment.

  “Sir, you’ll have to move inside,” a security guard with a strong Boston accent motioned them toward the door.

  “Sure.”

  Jenna grabbed Sam’s hand and held it tight. The intimacy was not lost on him. “What are we going to do now?” She looked up at him with tears brimming over her lashes. The strong set of her jaw told him she was mad, which in his mind, was a lot better than sad.

  “Find out who did this.” He relished the frustration that overtook the grief.

  His cell rang. No caller ID. “Bonita.”

  “Next time it will be your girlfriend.” Click. Sam’s blood pressure dropped.

  Jenna tugged on his arm. “You look liked you saw a ghost.”

  “Wrong number.” Sam tried to smile, but his lips wouldn’t cooperate. He’d tell her later about the threat. Maybe. “Come on, I want to talk to Carla’s surgeon.”

  “Why?”

  Sam held open the Emergency room door for Jenna. “To see if he could tell the type of instrument that was used to stab her.”

  “Good thinking. Let’s pray the attacker left some evidence near the park bench, like a fingerprint or something. We should check.”

  She sounded like a cop, but he figured it was Jenna’s way of coping with the tragedy. “I’m sure the cops have everything under control.”

  “They’re campus cops.”

  “Still cops. They’re good.” He dragged a stray hair behind her ear. “Phil will want to be involved, so there’s nothing to worry about. They’ll catch the guy.” They had to. He cupped Jenna’s cheek and a small smile captured her face.

  Sam prayed the cops would arrest this maniac before he really did kill Jenna. Dread nearly tripped him. He had to protect her at all cost.

  “Are you okay?” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Never mind. That was a stupid question.” She grabbed her stomach. “I want to vomit.”

  “Hold on.” Sam led Jenna inside to the waiting room chair hoping once she sat down, she’d be less agitated.

  Gina rushed in letting in a gust of fresh air. “I saw nothing. He must have set the device and not stayed around to watch the fireworks.”

  “We’ve been here all day,” Sam said. “He could have followed us here, set the charge, and left hours ago.”

  Jenna grabbed his arm. “Do you think they have security cameras on the parking lot?”

  “Maybe,” Gina said. “I’ll check. I need something to do or I’ll hurt someone.”

  Jenna stood and moved away from Sam, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I wish I knew which one of us stepped on this guy’s toes. We have to be getting close.”

  Sam stayed put, understanding Jenna’s need to put distance between them. “Maybe he’s only after me. You’ve been driving me around.” He
scrubbed a hand down his chin. “Damn. I haven’t found anything to tie these deaths together, so how am I’m a threat to this guy? Or you?”

  Her gaze shot to the ceiling. “This guy could be a woman, you know. Let’s not leave Deidra out of the equation.” Jenna blew out a long breath. “Tell me about this Manchester man—the one whose bones were stolen from the cemetery. Maybe someone wanted revenge against his relatives and want to stop us.”

  She had a good memory for names. “I know nothing more than the fact his bones were stolen from his mausoleum. You’d have to ask Phil for details.”

  Gina strode back into the room. “Bastard disabled the video cameras overlooking the parking lot.”

  “How could he get past security?” Jenna asked.

  Gina stabbed a hand over her short-cropped hair. “The hospital staff is trying to figure that out now.”

  “Oh God.” Jenna grabbed her chest. “How are we going to tell Carla that Chance is dead?”

  Gina shook her head. “We aren’t. At least not until she’s healed.”

  Another lie. When would this deception stop?

  17

  Anger rippled through him. That bitch had more lives than a fucking cat. When he saw the pathologist from the lab get into Jenna’s car, he was tempted to stop him, but if he had, he would have blown his cover. Shit. Now he’d have to figure out some other way to kill her.

  He had to smile a little bit though. The look on Bonita’s face had been priceless when he witnessed his friend go up in flames. For a moment, he thought Jenna was going to faint. Ha. Maybe now they’d get the hint that no one was going to stop him or his brother until they’d touched the lives of everyone Jenna and her dad cared about.

  He was actually getting into this killing stuff. It gave him power, and made him feel like a man.

  Once he peeled off his rubber mask, he stuffed the latex face into his pocket. He’d burn it later so they couldn’t retrieve any DNA off the inside. No sirree. He’d been careful in everything he’d done.

  He wiggled his nose and mouth to get rid of the constricting feeling from the rubber. Ignacio had made several realistic masks for him over the years. Perhaps it was time to pay the man a visit. Loose ends had a way of coming back to haunt you.

  Gina rushed into Sam’s lab. “We have a break.”

  Jenna jumped up, and Sam straightened. Both rushed over to her. “What?”

  “There were security cameras inside the hospital that our man didn’t disable until after he reached the security center itself to disabled those. Does that make sense?”

  “So we have a picture of him entering the security center?” Jenna couldn’t keep her hands from gesturing.

  “Yes. The hospital just sent the footage over to us. Edwardo Lopez is going over the film with Phil right now. Our perp is about five ten, a little overweight, has blond hair, a goatee and a bad complexion. Unfortunately, he was wearing a cap, so his eyes won’t show.”

  “Age?” Jenna asked.

  Gina shrugged. “I left before Edwardo finished.”

  That description fit the bill for half of America. “So now what?” Jenna asked, her gaze shifting from Gina to Sam.

  Gina’s gaze dropped to the ground for a second. “The man was wearing a security uniform.”

  Sam slapped the counter. “Shit. No wonder he was able to move around without raising suspicion.” He snapped his fingers. “That sounds like the man who asked Jenna and me to move away from the fire. I was so focused on Chance, I didn’t look at his face. I do remember he had a heavy Boston accent.”

  “Phil received news that the real security man was killed,” Gina said. “His throat was cut.”

  Sam slapped the counter. “I hate this. I have to do something.”

  A sizzle of fear snapped Jenna into gear. “You’re not a cop. We don’t need any vigilantes running around.” Both Gina and Sam froze at her attack. “Sorry.” Perhaps her tone had been over the top. Her dad’s pet peeve was civilians trying to do a cop’s job. “I don’t want the same thing happening to Sam that happened to Chance, that’s all.”

  Sam stepped next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, sending a refreshing jolt up her back. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be uber careful. I promise.”

  “That’s probably what Chance thought too.” Poor Carla. Oh, shit. “Chance was on his way to feed Carla’s dog. He never made it and we don’t have the keys to her place.”

  Sam exchanged a glance with Gina. “Do you know if Carla donated to the key caddy?”

  “A key caddy? What’s that?” Jenna asked.

  Gina shrugged. “It’s where you put one of your house keys in a storage closet. In case you lock yourself out, there’s always a spare.”

  “That doesn’t sound very safe.”

  Gina’s brows rose. “You have to go through Phil to get to the closet. He may be in a wheelchair, but the guy can fend off anyone.”

  Jenna doubted that, but from the dreamy way Gina said it, Jenna wasn’t going to burst her bubble.

  “I’ll see about the key and take care of the dog.” Gina pulled open the heavy metal door and disappeared down the hall.

  Once she left, Sam returned to his bones. Jenna was halfway to the computer station on the other side of the room when he rapped his knuckles on the gurney. She spun around.

  “I wonder if the same person who knifed the security guard cut Carla,” he said.

  Jenna shrugged. “It was the same M.O. Maybe he followed the ambulance to the hospital and waited to see who would come. When he saw us arrive en masse, he decided to take us out—or as many as he could.”

  “Sick.” Sam held up a finger and pulled out his phone. A moment later he discontinued. “Eric Markowitz is in autopsy right now with the guard. He’ll be able to tell the type of knife used to slit the man’s throat.”

  “How long will that take?” As a cop, she knew. As a civilian, she needed to ask.

  “Not long. Cause of death was evident.”

  “Did Eric see Carla’s wound? He’ll need to in order to compare weapons.”

  “I imagine he’ll contact the surgeon for the information.”

  Jenna sat down, her mind racing through the events. “You do know that we have to sneak back into Deidra’s back room, don’t you, to see about the head we found?”

  A low growl came out of Sam. “No freaking way. It’s too dangerous. What made you think of that?”

  “Deidra is somehow involved in all of this. That’s why I was targeted. Maybe she was mad because I quit.” Or because she figured out I was a cop.

  “When did you quit?”

  “I called her two days ago.” Jenna smiled.

  Sam stepped over to her and pulled her to his chest. “As far as sneaking back into that room, the answer is no. Weren’t you the one who said to let the cops do their job?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. You are not going to do anything regarding this case. I don’t want to have to worry about keeping you safe.” Sam ran a thumb over her lips and her mind switched gears. If only Sam would heed his own advice, she could relax.

  “Maybe you’re right.” To argue would be to admit who she was, and that she’d lied.

  “Damn right, I’m right. The police will find this guy. Phil will see to it.”

  Everyone seemed to think Phil walked on water. Jenna wanted to scream that she was the police and this was her case. Unfortunately, she’d grown attached to this neat freak and didn’t want to jeopardize what relationship she did have with him.

  He kissed each eye and Jenna could feel her jaw unclench. “Mmm. I think I need more of that.” She reached up and pulled his face toward her. His eyes were slightly bloodshot and his hair ruffled, but to her, he belonged in a GQ ad. Her thoughts traveled south as she pushed away the horrors of the day.

  When she lifted her lips to his, Jenna pressed her hips forward, relishing the contact—the very hard contact. She liked how Sam found her attractive. Their lips locked just
as the lab door swung open. Again. Shit.

  As if Sam had been stung, he leapt back. Sam swung around. “Jenna, this is Eric Markowitz. He was Chance’s boss, if only for a short time, and who Phil assigned to autopsy the hospital security guard.”

  Age had not been kind to this man if the number of wrinkles present were any indication. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jenna said. Dr. Markowitz may not have known Chance long, but he seemed to have touched everyone he’d met.

  “Thank you.” He inhaled and straightened his shoulders. “I came to tell you I finished. The hospital just contacted Phil. Man’s name is... or rather was, Alfred Witterd. I just spoke with Carla’s surgeon and asked him to fax over the photos of her injury. From what I could tell, the knife slice on Alfred’s throat seems consistent with that of Carla’s wound.”

  “So the same person hurt them both?” Jenna asked.

  “I believe so.”

  Jenna woke up late and out of sorts, which wasn’t surprising considering the recent events—Carla’s stabbing, Chance’s death, and her car being blown to smithereens. To top it off, she’d called her dad—out of Sam’s earshot—and told him about her car. Somehow, he managed to twist things to make it appear as if she was at fault somehow.

  All in all, today had started off bad. What was worse was the fact that Sam had barely spoken to her when they returned home last night. He’d been moody, agitated, and quite jittery. She’d never seen him like that before. Yes, his good friend from school had died, and one of his coworkers was in the hospital, but when she’d tried to discuss both tragedies, he pretended he had things to do in the bedroom, and that all was well. Now that was a lie if she’d ever heard one.

  She carried her bowl of cereal over to the table, hoping he’d be in a better mood this morning. Only a cup of half empty coffee sat in front of him. “Aren’t you eating anything?”

  His jaw clenched. “Can’t.”

  “You need your strength if you plan to put in a full day.” God, she sounded like her dad. Sam speared her a glare. Guess he didn’t like to be nagged. “Sorry.”

  His face softened as he reached over and grabbed her hand. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. It’s just that I’m used to being in control, and whoever is attacking the lab workers is pissing me off.” He withdrew his hand and dragged his fingers down his unshaven face. “I feel helpless.” He turned to her. “I don’t want to lose you too.”