Buried Alive_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

  She hadn’t known she’d done that fine of a job. “Thanks. Hunter’s on his way to pick me up. A reporter will interview Hunter and me at the sheriff’s department.”

  “You less nervous this time around?”

  “Much. Hunter will do most of the talking anyway. I’m just there to point out a few interesting characteristics that might help a relative identify her.”

  Kerry glanced over at the table. “Is that the woman from the bay?”

  “Yes. The bullet killed her.” He handed the skull back to her. “Here’s the sad part.”

  Kerry stepped over to the table. While her stomach and nose could handle the decomposition, her heart ached at seeing the woman cut up.

  John pulled apart the abdomen. “Look here.”

  “She was pregnant?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Now the police would have to tell her relatives both the woman and her unborn child were dead. “Let’s hope we can identify her soon. The father of the child must be out of his mind with worry.”

  “Or he did the deed.”

  Kerry increased her hold on the base. “I have to go. The television crew won’t wait forever.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Do you mind?” With both hands clasping the #4 model, Kerry angled her head forward for John to open the autopsy door.

  As she walked back to her lab, another door whipped opened and smashed into Kerry’s shoulder. She faltered. Her foot caught, causing her to stumble.

  Someone behind her jerked her arm back to steady her causing her fingers to let go of the base.

  “Steady,” a familiar voice said.

  The clay model flew out of her hands. As Kerry opened her mouth to tell him to let go of her arm so she could catch the head, the damned thing landed with a thunk before she got the words out. “Noooo!”

  On its base, the model teetered, then rolled over onto the side of the face.

  Kerry spun around. “Look what you did!” She hadn’t meant to blame Steven for the accident. He hadn’t been the one to open the door, but he had pulled back on her arm.

  “It’s my fault,” a young girl said, her mouth half open. “I just opened the door. I’m sorry.”

  Kerry took a deep breath. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I can fix the damage.”

  Heart pounding, she picked up her precious model and raced back to her lab. One cheek and part of the right lip had sagged. With her sculpting tool, she repaired the damage, then immediately placed the item in a safe cardboard box.

  She needed to make sure the model was steady on the ride over. Hopefully, bubble wrap would do the trick. The last thing she needed was for Jane’s face to fall over again in the car and get smashed. Just in case, she brought a few tools to do damage control. Heat wasn’t kind to clay.

  Hunter was waiting for her outside. Once again, she was struck by how handsome he looked in his midnight blue uniform.

  “Hey,” he said.

  His gaze held steady on her face. For a moment she thought the quick makeup job she’d done right before she left looked uneven. “Something wrong?”

  He laughed. Actually laughed. The spurt of joy surprised her. “No.” He started the engine and left.

  In relatively light traffic, they arrived twenty minutes later. “We need to hurry,” he said.

  The same cameraman, Josh something, was in the conference room doing lighting checks. Liz Culbertson greeted Kerry like an old friend, helping to relax her.

  Liz asked the same questions as before, and the interview lasted less than fifteen minutes. A second after the last answer, the two News Channel 8 people disappeared.

  Hunter lifted the head from Kerry’s hands. “I think we better keep this in our evidence room. We can’t chance losing this one.”

  She believed the head would be safe back at the morgue, but why take the unnecessary risk? “Fine.” Hunter had half turned around when she decided now would be as good a time to ask him the question that had been burning in her brain all day. “I’d like to watch the news at my grandfather’s house tonight. Do you mind?”

  His jaw tightened. “That’s not a good idea. Look what happened the last time we went live.”

  Damn him. She knew he’d bring up the phone call. “If the angry man needs to reach me, he’ll call me at Grandpa’s. He doesn’t know I’ve been hiding at your place for the last two weeks.”

  He hesitated. “I don’t want to leave Melissa with Jen again tonight, and I don’t want you to be alone in case the man calls.”

  “Then bring her! I’d love for my grandfather to meet her. The two of them would get along wonderfully. And I’ll make dinner. I’ll ask Grandpa to pick me up. I’ll leave work early and stop by the store.”

  His lips firmed. “You know the thief knows where you live. If he’s also the killer, you don’t want to be running around unprotected.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll have Grandpa carry his gun.”

  Hunter was proud of Melissa as she watched the beginning of the news. She didn’t whine or squirm in her seat. More surprising, she hadn’t clung to his side when they arrived at Tom Hardy’s place. Maybe sitting next to her new best friend, Kerry, helped. His daughter was turning into a wonderful young lady.

  The broadcast switched to Kerry holding the head standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him.

  “That’s you, Daddy.”

  Kerry ran a hand down Melissa’s head. “It sure is. Would you do me a favor, sweetie?”

  His daughter looked up at her. “Sure.”

  “My grandfather locked the puppy up in his bedroom. I can hear him cry. He’s lonely. Would you mind playing with him for a bit?”

  She swiveled around. “Can I, Daddy?”

  Why hadn’t he thought of that? Little girls shouldn’t watch all this death. Besides, how could a father say no to her bright smile? “Sure.”

  “I’ll show her where it is,” Tom said.

  “Thanks.”

  Hunter had only glanced at the first newscast that showcased #1. This time was different. He concentrated on Kerry, on how pretty she looked and how elegantly she spoke. Kerry looked more relaxed tonight, both on and off screen, than she had the first time she’d appeared on camera.

  Once their presentation concluded, Kerry flipped off the TV just as Tom and Melissa came back with Buster at her heels.

  Kerry stood and smiled down at his daughter. “Are you ready to help me get dinner?”

  “Yes!”

  Hunter’s pulse spiked at the sparkle in his daughter’s eyes. Melissa missed her mom, needed a woman’s touch.

  He couldn’t help but stare long after the two disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Sweet little girl you got there, Hunter,” Tom said.

  He jerked to attention. “Yes she is. I wish I had more time to spend with her, but the job takes a lot of my focus.”

  “I hear ya,” Kerry’s grandfather said.

  They sat in awkward silence for a long moment. “I wanted to thank you for letting my Kerry stay with you. I can’t protect her like I used to.” The sadness in the old man’s voice tugged at his heart.

  “I don’t think I’m doing much in the way of protecting. It’s more like I’m letting her hide at my place.”

  “Well, I’m glad she has you to look out for her. I miss her cooking though. She’s a fine chef.”

  “Kerry’s a remarkable woman.” Her culinary skills weren’t what drew him to her. Her passion in needing to identify the dead told him a lot about Kerry as a person. She had a lot of inner strength, spunk, and sincerity.

  As long as they were talking about Kerry, now was Hunter’s chance to learn more about her. “What made her leave her job in Ohio and come to Tampa?” He wasn’t about to ask about any exes floating around.

  She’d not been willing to share much with him. Kerry answered only when Melissa asked a question. Share, hell. When Hunter had touched her waist to help her reach a bowl in the top cabinet, Kerry had stiffened. Hunter
wanted to find out who’d done a number on her.

  Her grandfather wagged a finger. “You’ll have to ask her yourself, young man. I stay out of her affairs.”

  Before Hunter could formulate another question, the phone in the kitchen rang, and every muscle in his body tensed. He sprang up from the chair and rushed into the kitchen. Kerry seemed frozen at the stove, staring at the phone. Melissa was at the sink washing her hands.

  He wiggled his fingers for Kerry to answer the call. Hunter sidestepped to the sink. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s give Kerry some privacy.” The phone kept ringing.

  “Why can’t I stay, Daddy?”

  “Kerry’s grandpa wants to show you something.” The sharp shrill pierced his heart. Answer it, Kerry!

  “Okay!” Melissa skipped out. Not wanting the caller to hang up, Hunter strode to the wall phone, picked up the receiver, and held it to Kerry’s ear, leaving enough space for him to listen. Their cheeks practically touched, as did their fingers. He held his breath, waiting for the caller to speak.

  16

  It was Susan. Kerry felt Hunter’s shoulders relax against her body the moment her sister’s voice boomed. He gave a gentle squeeze to her waist and walked back into the living room.

  “Hi, Susan.” Kerry wasn’t certain she wouldn’t have been happier speaking with the stranger. To be fair, Kerry hadn’t seen her sister in over ten years. Maybe her older sister had changed.

  Laughter floated in from the living room, barely louder than her racing heart. Kerry would have given anything to be with Hunter and Melissa rather than conversing with her sister. Seeing Hunter play with his daughter with patience and love would have helped erase her dread.

  “I just arrived in Tampa,” Susan announced.

  With all the recent turmoil, Kerry had forgotten Susan’s planned visit. She didn’t need to be dealing with a killer and her sister at the same time, but she was curious to find out what was so important to make Susan creep back into town and chance running into her abusing ex-boyfriend.

  “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

  “I won’t keep you, but could I stop over tomorrow night? We really need to talk.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  “At the Holiday Inn on Fowler.”

  Thank God Susan didn’t say she planned to stay with Grandpa. Uncharitable, but her sister had never been trustworthy.

  “What time do you want to come over?” Kerry grabbed her stomach to stop the ache.

  “After dinner. Around seven, okay?”

  Hunter could drop her off at Grandpa’s after work, pick her up and drive her back to his place afterwards.

  “I’ll be here.”

  Susan hung up without saying goodbye. Her sister must be uncomfortable with long conversations. Maybe she believed someone might trace her call—someone like the creepy boyfriend who’d harmed her. But then why come? And why call?

  Kerry checked her watch. If Susan were in town, why not ask to come over now? Not that it mattered. Tonight, tomorrow, whenever, the two sisters would meet. Hell. It might not hurt to spend a few hours with her. Maybe Kerry would learn why her sister had acted so strangely when they were growing up.

  Stepping over to the wall, she placed the receiver on the hook. Her fingers curled into a claw. She didn’t need this visit right now, but she couldn’t change it now.

  Melissa. She needed to be with Miss Cheer. The little girl was the perfect antidote to the tension crawling up Kerry’s shoulders and stabbing her at the back of her head.

  She poked her head into the living room. “Who wants to help me cook?”

  “Me! Me!” shouted the little girl.

  Kerry had fallen hard for Hunter’s daughter. Something about the way she lit up a room helped soothe Kerry’s heart.

  Together, Melissa and she prepared a very simple meal–tuna casserole, which was another one of Melissa’s favorites.

  “Don’t forget to put the ‘tatorchips on top,” Melissa chirped.

  Kerry smiled. “I wouldn’t think of forgetting.” She grabbed a small bag of chips from the pantry, opened it, and handed the bag to Melissa. “You can crunch them.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Melissa took the bag and pressed it between her small palms. “I can’t wait to tell Katie I helped you, just like she helps her mommy.”

  God, she was cute. As comfortable as Kerry felt playing mom, her nerves were getting the best of her, and not all because of Susan’s imminent visit. Kerry’s gaze shot to the wall phone. The second news story had appeared less than ten minutes ago. Would the mysterious man call and berate her again? Or would she have another sleepless night wondering if a family member would recognize #4?

  What’s your problem, Herlihy? If the man calls, you’ll have to hide out at Hunter’s again for who knows how long. Do you want that?

  Yes.

  She refocused on the meal preparation. Kerry mixed the casserole and popped it into the oven. “While the dinner’s cooking, let’s go back and talk to your dad and my Grandpa.”

  Anything to keep from watching the phone. Being in the same room with the instrument of torture only ratcheted up her anxiety.

  Melissa reached up and grabbed Kerry’s hand. Her heart melted.

  The hour-long news was wrapping up when the phone rang again. Hunter jumped up, but Kerry waved him off as she stood. “It’s probably my sister calling me back. I’ll get it.”

  She only half believed her statement. As calmly as she could, she walked back into the kitchen, each ring shredding her composure.

  Hands trembling, Kerry picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Did you expect me to call you at the detective’s house?”

  The man’s words sunk in. How did he know she’d been staying at Hunter’s? Spikes of fear marched up her spine. Violation and exposure made her mouth turn dry.

  “Wh-who is this?” Her voice cracked. Damn.

  “Stop... looking... for... these... women. They deserved to die. They’re better off dead.” His cold tone sent ice down her throat, cutting off her air.

  With the phone to her ear, Kerry stumbled to the kitchen’s entrance. Hunter must have followed her for he was by her side in a moment, listening, ear-to-ear.

  Hunter’s warmth and strength gave her the courage to ask, “Did you kill these women?”

  “Tsk. Tsk. Ask any more stupid questions and you’ll be next.”

  He disconnected with a sharp click, and the deafening silence rang in her ears. The trembling began in her hands and shot down her legs. Her fingers remained locked on the handset.

  Hunter pried the receiver from her grasp and led her over to the chair. What had the caller wanted? Did he really think she’d stop looking? Who the hell was he?

  Hunter gently placed the phone on the hook, and then squatted in front of her, taking her hands in his. “What else did the man say?”

  Even Hunter’s warm voice couldn’t prevent her breath from pumping hard in her lungs.

  “He...he knows I, ah, am staying at your house.” She hiccupped.

  Hunter leaned back on his heels and blew out a breath. “Shit. What else?”

  “He told me not to try to identify the women.”

  “Did he say why?”

  What had the man said? “I can’t remember. I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his thumb over her palm, and the pressure helped level out her breathing to a near calm, but she still had to fight the jumble mass of fear rushing through her brain.

  “Did you recognize his voice? Was it Kopetski? Or Norwood?”

  She’d promised herself she’d be more aware of his tone, his accent, how he spoke the next time he called. All rational thought disappeared the moment she heard him speak. “I don’t know.” He cast his gaze downward, but she couldn’t lie. She had nothing concrete to tell him.

  He squeezed her hand. “We need to find a safer place for you to stay.”

  A safer place than with Hunter? “Why can’t I stay with you?”

  “Yo
u said he knows where I live. It won’t be safe for any of us there. I’ll have to warn Jen, too. If he knows where I live, there’s no telling what else he knows.”

  “Hunter, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t made the clay—”

  “No. Don’t think that. It’s your job to identify these women. You can’t let him intimidate you. We’ll take precautions to keep you safe. Without the clay reproductions, we may never learn who killed these women.” He stood and slipped his hands from hers. “I’m going to make some calls. After dinner, we’ll pack. Okay?”

  “If this man knows I’m staying with you, he must know where I work.” Panic gripped her hard. “He’ll find me.”

  A reassuring lift of his lips made the ache in her head subside. “We’ll let Dr. Ahern know he needs to keep an eye on you. You’ll be safe with him.”

  “Okay.” John Ahern was like the father she’d never had. He’d protect her. If Hunter drove her to work, she’d be safe as long as she didn’t leave the building.

  “I spoke with one of the men I work with, Cade Brentwood, who owns a remote cabin in Odessa he uses on occasion. He was planning to go there this weekend but said he’d go another time if we need the place. It’ll be a long commute, but no one could follow us out there without me knowing.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Don’t let its location fool you. He had a state-of-the-art security system installed.”

  Hunter ran a knuckle down her cheek.

  The tender touch nearly made the dam of tears break loose. “Thank you.”

  “I wanna check if my men were able to trace the call.”

  She shook her head. “He wasn’t on the line long enough, was he?”

  “I can’t say just yet. It’ll be moot if he used a burner phone.”

  Kerry searched her mind for an article she’d read months ago. “Maybe the cell has a GPS? Can’t we locate him from that?” Her voice rose to a screeching pitch.

  “It’s not as easy as it’s made out, but we’ll give it a try. If we do find where the signal originated from, I wouldn’t be surprised if the phone’s in a dumpster far from our caller.”