Beneath the Surface

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “What do you mean?”

  She checked the card. “Today’s bouquet is from my friends in post-op.”

  “So . . .”

  “I don’t have many friends in post-op.” She pointed, one by one, to the other bouquets that had been delivered throughout the week. “I also don’t have many friends in the PACU or pediatrics.” She pointed to the last one. “I do know most of the radiology folks, but my guess is Keri arranged for a different bouquet to come each day. Who are the balloons from?” She looked for a card and couldn’t find one.

  “They came with the flowers. Where do you want them?”

  They had come tied to a cute little pot as a weight. “I guess over on the dining room table,” she said.

  Ryan carried them to the spot she’d indicated. He took a few extra seconds to center them on the table.

  “You know, if this homicide investigating thing doesn’t work out, I think you could find some success in the floral delivery arena.”

  He tipped his head back and laughed.

  This was the Ryan she remembered. Quick to laugh. Fun. Teasing.

  Not stressed out and worried.

  “I have to head back to the office,” he said.

  “Okay.” It was time to tell him. She took a deep breath. Somehow she had a feeling the stressed out and worried Ryan was about to be back in full force.

  “I was going to tell you,” she said. “I’ve been cleared to go back to work.”

  “What?”

  “I need to go back to work,” she said. “Tomorrow.”

  9

  You cannot be serious.” Ryan came very close to shouting the words.

  This wasn’t a side of Ryan Parker she was used to seeing. She hadn’t expected him to be thrilled with her plan, but she hadn’t been expecting this either.

  Who did he think he was? He wasn’t her boss, her father, or even her brother. She was an adult. An intelligent, independent woman who was not going to be trapped in her home one day longer.

  Although . . .

  There was something in his eyes. Something in his tone. She’d almost missed it in her knee-jerk reaction to his words.

  He was scared.

  For her?

  Ryan paced to the massive windows overlooking Lake Porter. He ran both hands through his hair. It was just long enough that the curl was showing. He’d get it cut soon.

  Too bad.

  She remembered the way it was in high school when he let it grow longer. Black waves of hair all the girls loved and all the boys were jealous of.

  He whipped around and the intensity of his movements shoved all other thoughts away.

  “Leigh, please. Don’t. The hospital is where you’re most at risk. I can’t protect you there.”

  “You can’t stay with me twenty-four seven. Nothing has happened in the past week.”

  “That we know of.”

  “I know what I need to do. Take different routes to work. Bring my own food. Keep the doors closed and locked. Stay away from windows. Don’t go to movies. Don’t go anywhere at night. Stay in crowded places.” She rattled the list off. “I’ve been down this road before, Ryan.”

  “Yeah, and you still wound up on the wrong side of a gun.”

  His words knocked the breath out of her. She’d think of a crushing reply soon, but in this moment, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

  “Leigh,” Ryan whispered. He reached for her arm. She jerked out of his grasp.

  “It wasn’t my fault.” Wasn’t that what everyone had told her? That it wasn’t her fault Barry had come after her? Bunch of liars.

  “No,” he said. “It wasn’t. And neither is this. But that doesn’t mean you need to take unnecessary risks.”

  “Going to work—”

  “Is an unnecessary risk.”

  “I’m not independently wealthy, Ryan,” she said. “How long do you expect me to stay barricaded behind my own door? Another week? Two? I appreciate your skills as an investigator, but you have no idea who did this or why. Neither do I. I can’t stay in hiding for the rest of my life.”

  “You could be killed.”

  “I could be killed here too. The longer I stay here, what’s to keep some maniac from blowing up my house? Huh? Thought of that one?”

  Why was he smirking at her? No way.

  “You’ve thought of that one?”

  “No one gets anywhere near your house without going through a police barricade, Leigh.”

  “That’s not sustainable. I’m costing the taxpayers thousands of dollars.”

  “Hardly. We’ve caught so many speeders, we’re making money on the deal. No one realizes what’s happening. They think it’s a speed trap. And a good one at that.”

  “You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  That wiped the smirk away. “No,” he said. The heaviness in that one word pierced her. “I don’t. I’m about to lose my mind, if you want to know the truth. I don’t know why any of this happened to you. I don’t know why there was a dead guy in the lake. I don’t know why my brother-in-law left my sister. I don’t know why your mom died of cancer. And I don’t know why my nephew is autistic.”

  He caught a breath and plunged on. “And you know what? I do not like it when I don’t know why things are happening. So no, I don’t have an answer. But I’m doing the best I can with the knowledge I have and you going to work is going to make that much harder.”

  His argument, his vulnerability, his honesty. It shook her resolve.

  But didn’t destroy it.

  “I get that. I do.”

  “But you don’t care.”

  “I do care.” He had no idea how much she cared. “But this”—she waved her hand around her living room—“is not a long-term solution. I need to work. I’ll agree to stay home when I’m not at work. For now. But my patients aren’t dangerous.” Most of the time.

  She didn’t give him a chance to argue with her on that point. “My coworkers aren’t dangerous. You can’t even get into the department without scanning a badge. There are security guards present at all times. I’ll agree to having an escort to and from work if you want, but you cannot keep me from going to work. Dr. Price has cleared me. He said there was no medical reason I couldn’t return to work.”

  Ryan narrowed his eyes. “What if you put your coworkers in danger?”

  Way to hit her where it hurt. Pete had given them all a scare, but once they got all the drugs out of his system he’d improved fast. He’d gone home on Monday and was already back at work. But if he hadn’t been in the hospital when he consumed that high dose of ketamine, he would be dead. Could she risk anyone else’s life that way?

  She’d thought about it most of the morning and had come to the conclusion that the risks were minimal. Her coworkers would be in no more danger than what they faced every day in the emergency department. Going to work would free officers to work on the investigation and, ultimately, fewer of them would be at risk.

  “Again, it’s a secure department.”

  He turned his back to her and stalked back to the window. “I don’t like it.”

  She didn’t have an answer for him.

  “When do you want to go back?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “It’s risky,” he said with resignation.

  “I won’t leave the department without an escort. I’ll even wait for you to come pick me up if you want.”

  If this craziness kept up, she was going to forget how to drive. But she had multiple reasons for wanting Ryan to agree with her. Sure, she could do whatever she wanted, but as soon as she did, he would call Kirk and Kirk would make her life miserable. He might even insist on coming home.

  And as much as Ryan’s worrywart attitude rankled, the reality was no one else was as determined as him to keep her safe. She didn’t want to think about what the last week would have been like if Ryan hadn’t been around.

  “I’ll set up a protective detail. Please promise me you
’ll listen if they tell you they need you to leave.”

  She could do that. “I will.”

  “I need to make some calls,” he said. He walked out onto the deck. She could see him pacing back and forth as he talked. Could even hear his voice every now and then.

  She made a phone call of her own, assuring the lead nurse practitioner she’d be in at seven on Sunday night.

  Then she headed to the kitchen. Cookies seemed like a good idea right now.

  She pulled out her mom’s baking pans and fitted the beater on the stand mixer. Anytime she baked, memories of her mom filled the room along with the aroma of whatever was in the oven.

  Her mom had been a firecracker. Her dad had always said she was the perfect complement to him. As a judge, he got used to people doing what he told them to do, but she kept him grounded. Whenever he said that, her mom would roll her eyes at him or give him a gentle slug to the shoulder.

  The truth was her mom wasn’t one to keep her opinions to herself, and she wasn’t afraid to rock the boat. But even when they disagreed, such a strong undercurrent of love and genuine respect flowed between them that Leigh had never experienced a moment of worry that their relationship was in danger. If anything, the way they disagreed and reached consensus had taught her it was okay to have a contrary opinion—just because she didn’t agree with someone didn’t mean they couldn’t be friends. Or more.

  It also taught her that true, meaningful, long-lasting relationships were built more on the way a couple handled conflict and adversity than on romantic dinners and moonlit strolls.

  Not that her parents didn’t share plenty of those.

  She added the chocolate chips and a cup full of toffee chips and gave the cookies a final whir in the mixer. She grabbed a spoon and tasted the dough.

  Perfect.

  “You really like to live dangerously, don’t you?” Ryan asked from the other side of the counter.

  She hadn’t heard him come in and didn’t turn around as she spooned the dough onto the baking sheets.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little raw egg.”

  He laughed. “No. But it would be dangerous for you not to share some of that cookie dough with me.”

  She grabbed another spoon and scooped out a heaping helping. When she handed it to him, he took it, but then squeezed her hand.

  “I’m sorry I was being so bossy,” he said before he tasted the cookie dough.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I do appreciate your concern.”

  He took another bite. “This is really good.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “And I’m sorry I’m being so difficult.”

  “You are difficult,” he said, but this time the teasing words carried no sting. “These are my favorite cookies.”

  “I know.”

  He stared at her long enough that she finally broke eye contact. She didn’t know what she was doing. And she needed to stop doing it. Now.

  Ryan’s phone rang and he stepped outside to answer it.

  Whew.

  She needed to get a grip. She didn’t flirt. She’d never been that kind of girl. And Ryan wasn’t the kind of guy—

  No. That was the problem. Ryan was exactly the kind of guy she’d consider spending a lifetime with.

  Maybe the only one.

  Yeah.

  That was a big problem.

  “Parker. Where are you?”

  He had no idea why the captain would want to know where he was on a Saturday afternoon. He wasn’t on call. Any homicides today would go to Anissa. But something in the captain’s tone made him think there was a problem.

  “I’m at Leigh Weston’s house, sir.”

  “I need you over at the Cooks’ farm.”

  “Sir?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Get over here.”

  “Is Mr. Cook okay?”

  “Parker.”

  Wow. It must be bad. He’d pushed the captain as far as he dared. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Make it five.”

  Ryan ran back into the house and explained what was going on. He grabbed his coat and jogged to the door.

  Leigh stood there with a paper plate heavy with cookies. “Take it with you. You never know . . .”

  “You’re amazing,” he said as he took the plate. He planted a quick peck on her cheek. Her breath faltered as their eyes met. Oh man. Her mouth had the gravitational pull of a supernova.

  The oven timer buzzed and broke through the force pulling them together. He stepped back and so did she, the space between them filling with unspoken energy.

  “Thank you,” he said, his voice rougher than he’d expected it to be.

  “Be safe,” she said, her eyes wide.

  He yanked open the door and jogged to his car. He placed the cookies and his coat on the passenger seat and floored it.

  Why was he out of breath?

  What had he done?

  What would have happened if he’d kissed her? Really kissed her.

  There was so much tension, so much wondering, so much maybe, so much what if, it left his mind spinning.

  One thing was certain. If that stupid oven timer hadn’t gone off, he wouldn’t be wondering. And he would have been very late getting to Mr. Cook’s.

  He came to a police barricade six minutes later.

  What was going on?

  He showed his badge and was waved in. Mr. Cook owned two hundred acres on the edge of the county. Some of it was lakefront property he’d never developed. Said he never would let anyone develop it. Most of it was wooded, and the driveway meandered into the heart of it, where he lived in the old farmhouse he’d been born in. A couple of chicken houses stretched to one side. A pasture with twenty head of cattle sat on the other side. Behind the house were several acres of soybeans.

  Ryan relaxed a little when he saw Mr. Cook standing on the wide front porch talking to the captain. At least the older gentleman was unharmed. As soon as the captain saw Ryan approaching, he waved him over.

  “Captain, Mr. Cook,” Ryan said. “Everything okay?”

  “Not even a little bit,” Mr. Cook said. “Come on.”

  Mr. Cook took off at a brisk pace and Ryan rushed to follow him. The captain joined them.

  This was weird.

  “Got out here this morning, walking the property. I don’t do it often, but I’ve got a lot of land out here and every now and then I find a spot where kids have been hanging out, that kind of thing,” Mr. Cook said as he led them deep into the wooded property. “Had Ole Blue with me. We was just meandering. Walking and praying. It’s what we do.”

  Mr. Cook’s prayer walks were legendary. Some people said if you got Mr. Cook to pray about your situation while he was on one of his walks, you could be sure the Lord had heard about it. Whenever Mr. Cook heard that, he’d shush the speaker and remind them God heard the prayers of all his children and nothing was special about his prayers.

  No one believed him.

  If Mr. Cook decided to pray for you, you could be sure the Almighty was going to get involved.

  “Ole Blue wanders through the woods. Sometimes he catches a rabbit or squirrel. Usually he just chases ’em. This morning he got all bothered about something out here, so I left my trail to investigate.”

  Sounds that didn’t match the tranquility of their surroundings filtered through the trees. As they rounded a bend and left the trail, Ryan caught a few flashes of yellow police tape. Then he heard Anissa calling out crisp orders. It took another couple of minutes to push through the thick undergrowth. Thorny branches slapped at his hands and arms, and he was thankful he’d put his jacket on when he got out of the car.

  Mr. Cook paused. “Still can’t believe it,” he said. He pointed them in the direction of Anissa’s voice and after another hundred feet of maneuvering through the branches, Ryan came to the scene.

  A shallow grave. A body. Or what was left of it. Anissa covered in dirt. Forensics techs with evidence markers
and the medical examiner preparing the body bag.

  Ryan tried to process what he was seeing. He didn’t want to speak too soon and make himself look like an idiot in front of his boss and one of the most influential men in the county.

  “Parker,” Anissa called to him. “Glad you’re here.”

  She was? He liked Anissa well enough, but ever since they’d both made homicide investigator two years ago and become the youngest homicide investigators in the county’s history, he’d always suspected she was determined not to let anyone ever accuse her of not knowing what she was doing. She rarely requested assistance. He didn’t take it personally. The truth was she rarely needed assistance.

  He made his way to her. “What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Didn’t they tell you?” She kept her voice low as well.

  “No. Just dragged me out here.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I insisted.”

  Okay. This was very weird.

  She pointed to the body. “You need to see this.”

  He approached the medical examiner. “May I?”

  “Oh, hey, Ryan.” Sharon Oliver gave him a grim smile. “I’m getting tired of this stuff.” She pointed to the body. Now that he was closer, Ryan studied the skeletal remains.

  Or what was left of them.

  “Where’s the skull?”

  Sharon shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. We’re looking for it.”

  Ryan knelt beside the bones. This could not be happening. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance the hands and feet got carried off by animals?”

  “We’ll have to get the anthropologist back out here,” she said. “But no. The hands, feet, and head were severed from the body. I don’t want to speculate, but I won’t be surprised if the method is the same as your John Doe from the lake.”

  Ryan looked around the area. Getting a body in here would have required patience. The grave wasn’t deep. Barely deep enough to be sure no wildlife dug it up. “Any idea on timing?”

  “A year, maybe a little less,” she said. “I’ll be able to firm up the timing after we examine the remains.”

  He walked back to where Anissa stood lost in thought. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”