Dirty Little Secrets (Romantic Mystery) Book 1 in the J.J. Graves Series

by Hart, Liliana

  “What happened to her?” Brody asked when I pulled the sheet down far enough to show the marks at her throat. Death was always surreal when you looked at a body away from the crime scene—to see one naked and still, slightly blue tinged and somehow peaceful in the aftermath of violence.

  “I got called to the crime scene early this morning. She’d been found by a man on his way to work, lying in a ditch at the side of the road.”

  “Hell of a way to start the day.”

  “You’re telling me.” I pulled on my surgical gloves and protective overcoat, strapped on my prescription goggles and pulled the sheet to the end of the gurney. “Here, put these on,” I said tossing him a pair of gloves. He blew into the end of each glove before sliding his hands inside. It was obvious he’d had practice. Latex gloves were a pain in the ass to a novice.

  My mouth watered as he pulled a pair of horn-rimmed glasses out of his shirt pocket and slipped them on. I rolled my eyes at my idiocy and rushed to fill the silence before he noticed I’d been staring. “Her body was found near her car. She’d run out of gas on the way to her sister’s.”

  “So do the police think it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “Nope. She was on her way to her sister’s because she was leaving her abusive husband of twelve years.”

  “Okay,” Brody said. He ran his fingers through his hair and his eyes narrowed in thought. “So she packs her bags and tells him she’s going to live with her sister, and he follows her until she runs out of gas. And luck just happens to turn in his favor so he has the opportunity to kill her. That doesn’t seem very likely.”

  “This wasn’t a crime of passion. It was premeditated and planned down to the last detail. Bob Shiney owns the gas station here in town and he told the sheriff this morning that she bought a full tank of gas yesterday morning, so someone helped relieve her of a few gallons between 10 yesterday morning and 9 last night when she left her house.”

  “What do you mean someone? Don’t you think it was the husband?”

  “He’s the most logical suspect,” I said, avoiding the question. I wasn’t ready to tell anyone Jack’s theory on the murder. Research for a book or not, information like that had a tendency to get out, and I didn’t want to make things any harder on Jack than they were going to be. “George had a history of violence with her—of violence period—but she never pressed charges against him.”

  I rolled Fiona over gently and parted the hair at the back of her head. “The first blow was struck here. There are no fibers, so that tells me it wasn’t wood or a synthetic material. It was probably a metal pipe of some kind because the wound is even across the skull.”

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked.

  “I mean that if he’d used something like a hammer or a pipe wrench the blow would have been deeper in the area originally struck, just from the point of impact. This was not a life-threatening wound. It would have given her a concussion and incapacitated her for a short period of time. Which is exactly what he wanted it to do. But you already knew that, didn’t you? You obviously know your way around an autopsy room if you’ve been observing the Baltimore M.E. Are you testing me to make sure the small town doctor knows what the hell she’s doing?”

  “No, Maam,” Brody said, coughing to stifle a grin.

  I narrowed my eyes, ready to spew fire at the insult. I was one of those people who hated failing at anything, and I had enough insecurities about the job without having others add to the problem.

  “But I’ve found it’s never a bad thing to ask questions. I never know what answer might strike a new idea or make me consider a different angle.”

  “Right. Sorry,” I said, feeling more and more like a fool the longer I was in his presence.

  “Was she sexually assaulted?”

  “Yes. After he rendered her unconscious with the pipe he moved her to the backseat of her vehicle and tied her with a natural fiber rope, which can be bought at any hardware store in America.”

  I pulled her arm up so he could see the slight abrasions and discolorations on her wrist. “I pulled fibers from the ligature marks this morning and sent them to the lab just in case there’s something unusual that will help us identify where he bought it, but I doubt it.

  “She fought him during the rape,” I said, laying her arm back down. “There was skin under her nails, and the struggle is what caused the abrasions from the rope. She finally found the courage to fight back and leave, and this is what she got for it.”

  “And all of this happened on the side of the road, fairly early in the evening, without one person driving by?” he asked, skeptically.

  “You’re saying nine o’clock is fairly early in the evening because you’re from Richmond. Time moves slower here. The entire town is shut down by that time of night.”

  “God, how do you survive the boredom?”

  “There’s a lot to be said for peaceful towns,” I answered primly, even though I’d asked myself the same question after I’d been forced to move back home. “There are only four houses on Canterbury Street where Fiona was found. The lots are large in size and surrounded by trees. Even if she’d screamed the neighbors probably wouldn’t have heard her.”

  I moved further down the table to where I’d collected the sample of semen that had been left behind. “He did us a favor by leaving his DNA. I sent the sample to the lab this morning. We should have the results back by next week.”

  “I’ll play devil’s advocate and say wouldn’t the husband’s defense be that they’d made love earlier in the evening? The physical evidence doesn’t prove murder.”

  “There was a reason I went to medical school instead of law school. I’ve never been a fan of injustice. He tore her up a little, caused some vaginal bleeding. Cause of death was strangulation. You can see the marks around her throat. Murder weapon was a red silk scarf. If George committed the crime then the sheriff will find a way to prove it.”

  “I wouldn’t think a town this size would have a police department capable of handling a murder investigation.”

  I bristled a little at the implication. Jack was always underestimated, even by the people who’d voted him into office. “That might normally be the case, and I’ll admit the police here don’t have a lot of opportunity to get on the job experience, but Jack Lawson, our sheriff, knows what he’s doing. He’ll get the job done.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. It sounds like you’re close with the sheriff.” It was obvious he was fishing for information about our relationship by the competitive glare that came into his eyes.

  “We are. Jack’s a good man. He’ll see to it that whoever killed Fiona pays.” His scowl deepened, and he opened his mouth to say something, but I beat him to the punch. “I hate to cut your research session short, but I can’t perform the autopsy with you here without getting permission from Jack first. It’s his investigation, and anything I find is sensitive information.”

  Brody’s jaw clenched and jealousy practically oozed from his pores every time I mentioned Jack’s name. I realized as I was doing it that I was subconsciously trying to push Brody away. I covered Fiona back up and pushed her back into the freezer.

  When I turned back around Brody’s body stood rigid and unmoving, and he blocked my path so I had no choice but to face him head on. I somehow found the courage to meet his stare, and I was surprised at what I saw. It was obvious I hadn’t deterred him at all. If anything he looked more determined to get what he wanted. And apparently he wanted me.

  “I’ll leave you to your work. For now. But you’ll see me again. I’m sure I’ll think of a lot of follow up questions.”

  My lips twitched before I could control it, and I shook my head in defeat. “I figured as much.” Brody Collins was going to be a handful.

  His body relaxed and he gave me a satisfied grin. We trudged back up the stairs to the main part of the funeral home and I followed him out the kitchen door.

  “What happens t
o her now?” he asked.

  “Her sister will be here this afternoon to arrange for the burial. I can’t embalm her until the paperwork is filled out and I’ve finished the autopsy. And then with luck I won’t have to deal with something like this again. Bloody Mary is a safe place. A good town. Though the people can take getting used to.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing the whole afternoon? What’s one more?”

  “Why would an ER doctor give up her career to move back home and serve the dead instead of the living?”

  I stiffened and took a step in retreat before I could help myself. “You can ask all the questions you want about my business, but my personal life is my own.”

  “You intrigue me, Dr. Graves. I’ve never been one to let curiosity sit idle. Like I said before, you’d make a fascinating character. If my Detective Ambrose isn’t careful you’re the kind of woman he could definitely fall for.”

  “Then I hope he doesn’t mind being disappointed. My life really isn’t all that fascinating.”

  I could tell by the determined look in his eyes that he’d know everything about me by the time he sat down to dinner. Hell, all he’d have to do is ask a few questions around town to learn most of it. There were still a few things about my life that even the people of Bloody Mary didn’t know, but if anyone could sniff out the truth I was betting it was Brody Collins. Maybe it would be best to let him find out as much as he could. The FBI sure wasn’t very forthcoming with information, though they seemed to thrive on speculation and the seemingly endless amount of questions they had about my parents. Questions that I had no idea what the answers were.

  “Have a safe drive back to Richmond. I’m sorry you weren’t able to get any interesting information about the murder.” I started to close the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

  “Oh, I’m not driving back to Richmond. You’ve inspired me to stay in Bloody Mary and finish the book right here. I don’t suppose you could recommend a place to stay?”

  I mumbled something unladylike under my breath, and knew with his declaration that it was destined for our lives to be tangled together. There was something about him that drew me in, and I wanted his hands on me more than I’d wanted anything else in a long time. I just hoped I could put the pieces back together again once he decided to untangle himself.

  I sighed and pointed down the road. “Baker’s Bed and Breakfast is right down the street. It’s the slow season so I’m sure she’s got room for you. Tell Wanda I sent you.”

  “I will, thanks.” He paused like he wanted to say something else, but he just tucked my hair behind my ear again and skimmed his knuckles across my cheek. “I’ll see you around, Dr. Graves.”

  I didn’t find my voice until his SUV disappeared down the road. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Chapter Seven

  There wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to do in Virginia in the winter. An explosion in the population come September explained what most people were doing with their forced time indoors. But for the rest of us who didn’t have someone to keep us warm on a snowy night—there was poker. And boy did we take it seriously. I didn’t know anyone between the ages of eighteen and ninety-two who didn’t belong to a league. Gambling fueled the souls of the weary and fired the blood of every citizen in town.

  And once a year, all the practice paid off. The Knights of Columbus hosted a poker tournament at the Civic Center every New Year’s Eve. The grand prize for the poker champion was ten thousand dollars and a trip to Richmond to compete in the state tournament. I’d never had a chance in hell of claiming the prize, and things weren’t looking too different for me this year. It was no one’s fault but my own. Hollywood had never been in the cards for me, because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t keep from advertising every thought I possessed across the blank canvas of my face (not a good handicap to have for this particular sport).

  But Jack, on the other hand, was a wonder. He’d been the champion for the last two years. No one had a better poker face than Jack. And unlike me, Lady Luck always smiled on him—probably because she was a damned woman and that’s what women did with Jack.

  It was his turn to host our weekly addiction, and I decided to get to his place a little early to pump him for news on the murder investigation. I was curious to see what he’d found out at the bank, and I’d bought a six pack of his favorite beer to offer as a bribe so he’d tell me everything he knew. This was a practice that had worked since high school, so I figured there was no need to change things now.

  The snow I’d predicted earlier fell in soft, heavy flakes as I walked out my front door, six-pack in hand. I walked around the rotted boards of my porch, and jumped over the three sagging steps that led to the ground just in case today was the day I finally fell through. If I kept my eyes straight ahead, it was easy to ignore the eyesore that sulked behind me like a decrepit old woman, waiting for the right moment to wrap her arms around me and drag me kicking and screaming into the pit of homeowners’ hell—of which I’m sure is an actual place.

  By the time I maneuvered the Suburban around the metal cans the trash collectors had tossed in the street, the gentle fat flakes had turned into a vicious bitch of a blizzard. The wind blew with a cutting edge that sliced through the naked trees with a whistle and pushed against the Suburban as if was waging a war against the Michelin tire company in general.

  I flipped on my windshield wipers and crept along the single lane road, my heart thumping a staccato beat in my chest, and the chili dog I’d eaten for lunch churning in my stomach. It was me against the elements—and I was losing. Thin sheets of ice formed rapidly on the country road, and I cursed when I realized I hadn’t had time to put chains on the tires with all the excitement of the day.

  I heaved a sigh of relief as I pulled up in Jack’s driveway. At least I hoped it was Jack’s driveway. I unclenched my cramped fingers from around the steering wheel, and tried to bring some semblance of recognition to the structure in front of me. The lights flashing on and off in quick succession from inside the house was Jack’s way of letting me know I was in the right place.

  Jack lived in a two-story log cabin that looked as if it had been carved from the forest of trees surrounding it. A wide porch surrounded the entire house and a chimney of grey stone jutted from the steep roof. It had taken him three years to build it exactly as he wanted, and he’d done most of the work himself. The house described Jack to a tee—masculine, rugged and enduring.

  I was more than an hour early, and from the looks of the weather, poker night might be called off completely, but there was no way in hell I was going to turn around and brave the roads just so I could go back to a drafty house and a cold bed. Jack had dependable central heat, food and booze. I couldn’t ask for more.

  I sat in my car a few more minutes, hoping there would be a break in the weather long enough that I could get indoors with as little embarrassment as possible. I pushed against the car door until it finally flung open with a gust of wind, and the only thing that kept me in an upright position was the fact that my arm was still caught in the seatbelt. I held tight to the beer as horizontal sleet pelted my face until it tingled with the pinpricks of numbness, and I trudged, one foot in front of the other, to Jack’s front door.

  I didn’t bother to knock—neither of us ever did—and I almost wept in relief as heat cocooned my body the moment I stepped inside. Sharp pins stabbed into my skin, and I moaned in pain as feeling came back to my extremities.

  “Are you okay?” Jack asked.

  “Do I look okay to you?”

  “Nope, but I thought it would be polite to ask.” He pulled the cap from my head and rubbed my arms briskly to get the circulation moving. “You know, anyone with half a lick of sense would have stayed home tonight.”

  “Yeah, but then I’d have to wait until tomorrow to get any information from you. I figure it was worth the risk. And your house is better equippe
d to ride out the storm. We’re not just friends because you’re pretty.”

  “I feel so used,” Jack said. “What am I getting out of this relationship?”

  “Just the pleasure of knowing me. I am a doctor, after all.”

  “It’s hard to argue with that logic. Come on in the kitchen. I’ll put a pot of coffee on, while we wait to see if the others are as reckless as you are.”

  “I’ll ignore that since you’re making me coffee. And I’ll even share the beer I brought.”

  “Did you get the sample to Richmond? Sometimes they leave early on Fridays.”

  “Oh, I got the sample to the lab. And we’ll have the complete analysis by Monday,” he said with a smile I recognized, though I’d never been on the receiving end of it.

  “How, I’m afraid to ask, did you manage to work that minor miracle?”

  “Let’s just say that the lab tech was very grateful. She doesn’t mind working weekends at all.”

  “You slept with the lab tech?”

  “I live for the job. And sometimes I have to make sacrifices.”

  “I can’t believe she slept with you after being in your presence for ten minutes. What a ho.”

  “God bless them every one. Actually it was more like an hour. We had lunch first.”

  “Amazing,” I said. Jack’s powers over the opposite sex never failed to amaze me. I had seen many a woman fall at his feet over the years. It made my heart hurt just a little to think that one of these days Jack would find a woman who would make him do the falling.

  “Yes, it was,” he said.

  I inhaled the aroma of something sinful when he opened the oven door and had to subtly check my chin for drool. “God Jack, I think I just orgasmed. Why hasn’t some woman snapped you up?”

  “God forbid,” he said with a mock shudder.

  “Good attitude,” I said. “That way I can keep you all to myself. I’m starving. I don’t think the corn dog did it for me today.”