Buried Alive_A dark Romantic Suspense

by Vella Day

Shut up and enjoy.

  Her conscience was right. Hunter was everything she wanted in a man—and best of all she trusted him.

  “You okay?” He ran his callused palms over her sensitive nipple. “You left me for a moment.”

  She grinned, and then giggled. Actually giggled, something she hadn’t done in years. “Yes, but I’m back.”

  Before she had another thought, she shut down all thoughts, and then unbuttoned Hunter’s low-slung pants and struggled to get him out of his clothes.

  “Here. Let me help you with those.”

  Quicker than she could blink, Hunter ditched his shoes and pants and was on top of her—stark naked. Wow. She ran a finger down a thick scar on his shoulder. She located another one near his rib cage and a third low on his hip.

  “Police work is tough,” she said.

  He chuckled but said nothing, as his eyes glazed over with lust. It had to be lust because he couldn’t have true feelings for her, could he?

  When Hunter plunged a thick finger into her swollen, wet opening, all questions flew from her mind. She relaxed and let go, enjoying herself.

  Hunter was gentle and rough, fast, yet slow. He made her come alive again even as her hands and mouth worked feverishly over his body.

  The air conditioner clicked on, cooling the slick sweat on her skin. They became twisted in the sheets, laughed, unrolled, and kissed some more.

  Intense need whipped her into a frenzy. She wanted all of Hunter—his passion and his body, but most of all his heart.

  With his knee, Hunter parted her thighs and plunged into her with one slick move. She gasped and Hunter stilled.

  He cupped her cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” She grabbed his hips and began pumping her legs. Blood pounded in her ears, helping to erase her past. Hunter must have understood her need for more, for he too matched her rhythm.

  “What you do to me is beyond words,” he said.

  His admission sent her soaring. When she tried to answer, all that came out was a groan.

  With his eyes closed, he moaned, kissed, and touched her everywhere. Oh, God. Stars exploded behind her lids, and she climaxed hard. A second later, Hunter came.

  Once they caught their breath, he kissed her hard once more, and then rolled on his back taking her with him.

  The sweet smell of sex perfumed the air.

  Like a limp doll, she placed her face on his heaving chest, his hairs tickling her face. She’d never been happier.

  Her cell rang, but Kerry didn’t move, didn’t care.

  “You going to answer that?” he asked.

  “Can’t. You killed me with passion.”

  He laughed. “I hear ya.”

  Together they basked in the wonder of their lovemaking. The sharp trill of the phone stopped. “It was probably Susan, and I can’t talk to her yet.”

  Hunter kissed her, and his musky scent sent her into the thrill zone once more. “You want me to come with you when you speak with her?”

  “Would you?” Her pulse beat hard.

  “I might be able to give not only moral support but some background information.”

  “I’d love that. This will earn you mega bonus points.” She ran a hand down his rough face, the hairs prickling her hand.

  He smiled and her heart began to heal. “Do you know what we forgot?”

  “What?”

  “We left the pizza outside on top of the car.”

  She giggled. “My mind was on other things.”

  “Me too.” Hunter sat up. “I don’t want the animals to get it. Be right back. We can chow and then maybe have a repeat performance.”

  “Now you’re talking.”

  The sun might be shining and the air warm, but there was nothing good about this morning. Susan’s car sat in Grandpa’s drive. Kerry dreaded telling her sister her child was dead, but with Hunter by her side, she’d find the strength.

  Kerry and Hunter entered the house through the back door. The smell of omelets and burnt bacon lingered in the air, but the kitchen was empty. “Grandpa?”

  Susan came from the living room into the kitchen wrapped in a pale gray fleece robe and no makeup. Kerry couldn’t imagine wearing something so hot in the summer.

  “Hey. You two come for breakfast?”

  “No, we ate earlier.” Not really. They’d had coffee and juice, but Hunter’s kisses had fed her all morning.

  Buster pranced around the corner, looking cool and calm—and quiet for a change. He sniffed Hunter, bounced over to Kerry and sat, his tongue hanging out. She dropped to her knees and rubbed his head, and then his belly. Buster barked once in appreciation.

  “Come join me,” Susan said. “Sit and stay a while. Grandpa is picking up more juice at Publix.”

  Kerry’s sister looked tired, but her spirit seemed upbeat. That was about to change.

  Kerry dragged the kitchen chair next to Susan and took her Susan’s hand.

  Terror and hope splashed across Susan’s face. “What’s wrong? Is it Brad? Did you find Teresa?”

  Hunter scooted his chair closer to the table and the legs ground against the wooden floor. “We arrested Brad. You won’t have to worry about him hurting you anymore.”

  Susan volleyed her gaze between them. “Arrested him? Why?”

  “Susan. I don’t know how to tell you this, but—”

  “But what?” Susan squeezed Kerry’s hand.

  “Teresa is dead.” The three simple words stole her breath away.

  Susan shook her head. “No. That’s not possible. She was a healthy baby. Did Brad hurt her?”

  “She died of SIDS, Susan. It could have happened even if she’d stayed with you.”

  Through tears and hugs, Kerry told her what she knew about sudden infant death syndrome, and Hunter filled in the rest—about the illegal burial, about the lies.

  Kerry speared Hunter with a glance. He masked his emotions, but the ache behind his eyes caused his lids to sag.

  She loved him. As surely as she knew she had to identify her women, she knew Hunter was meant for her.

  “Poor Brad,” Susan said.

  Kerry sat back. “Poor Brad? Don’t feel sorry for him, Susan. He hurt you, just like Dad did.”

  “Brad wasn’t that bad. I think I overreacted,” Susan said, as she cast her gaze downward.

  Any glow of happiness she’d felt a moment ago, evaporated. “You told me he abused you.” Kerry tamped down her anger.

  Susan bit her lip. “Emotionally, not physically—except once, when he was drunk. But I provoked him. I was mad because he’d leave me alone to take care of Teresa all the time. He said he had to work late, but I didn’t believe him at the time.”

  “You thought he was having an affair?” That would be the only reason to get on his case.

  “Yes. After I moved to Florida, I learned he really was at work.” Susan’s face turned ashy gray. “I think I want to lie down. All of this is so hard to understand.”

  “Do you want me to stay?” Kerry couldn’t remain mad at Susan. Her sister had been through so much.

  “No. I’ll call you later. Okay?” Her voice came out small and pathetic.

  “‘K.”

  Kerry leaned over and hugged Susan, all past issues forgotten. Her sister dropped her head on Kerry’s shoulder and cried. When all the tears had been shed by both, Kerry and Hunter left.

  They were half way to the cabin, when Kerry realized Hunter hadn’t mentioned anything about his plan to capture the man who’d murdered so many women. “So what are we going to do about Dr. Dalton?”

  He flicked a glance over at her as he pulled to a stop at a light. “I want the bastard as much as anyone, but we don’t arrest people without evidence.”

  “Evidence is highly overrated.” Her bones told her Dalton did it. “Will you talk to him at least?”

  “And ask him what?”

  I guess questioning him about the five murders is not a good idea, but can’t you put a twenty-four hour
tail on him to see if he’s stalking the women?”

  “I did tail him for a few days, but the guy was clean. The department won’t authorize any more time, and I don’t want to leave you alone to follow him after hours. So, we’ll have to find another way to get him.”

  “The bastard will slip up.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Kerry’s job at the M.E.’s office was drawing to a close. They’d identified three of the four victims found in the mass gravesite, and a fellow anthropologist at Brahman was helping to make a two-dimensional model of the female’s head that had been stolen. Given her over-reactive mental state, she wasn’t ready to face John about the theft of the skull. The possibility of prison scared the shit out of her, and she refused to lose her license to practice anthropology because she was trying to do her job. She’d find the skull if it was the last act of her free life.

  Kerry studied #3’s bones, hoping to find something to tie the victim to Dr. Dalton. She slapped the cold table at the lack of evidence.

  The eerie silence in the building prevented her from concentrating. No squeaking gurneys to distract her, no racing footsteps, no buzzing of excited voices zipping down the hall.

  Kerry even missed Sheri, the receptionist who she’d seen flirt with Hunter a time or two. The girl had obviously taken an early weekend.

  Her only break came when Steven had wandered in and seemed to be in a chatty mood. Since Dr. A was in his office slammed with paperwork, Steven must have nothing better to do than bother her.

  He nodded to #3. “So, who do you think did her in?”

  Poor choice of words in her opinion. “My job is to find out her identity, who loved this woman, who’s missing her, not who killed her.”

  “You’re right. Sorry.” He hopped up on the counter. “You and your detective have any guesses who might have done this terrible thing?”

  His sincerity made her regret her sharp tone. “He has his theories.”

  “Like what? Maybe I can help.”

  He’d seen his share of death, so maybe he could help. “All of the women were pregnant.”

  He scrunched up his face. “That’s sick. Did you see if they had the same OB/GYN?”

  “No, but that’s a good thought.”

  He smiled and leaned forward. “What else?”

  “All the woman had been associated with a local shelter.”

  “Is there someone in the shelter who would want to harm the women?”

  “Not that we’re aware of.” She wasn’t sure if she should spill all the beans about the investigation, but Stephen might have some good ideas given he was in med school. “There’s one other thing they have in common.”

  “What?”

  “They all had plastic surgery before they died.”

  His lips puckered. “That’s a big coincidence. Don’t you find it odd that women from the shelter could afford plastic surgery?”

  “If they’ve been abused, the shelter has doctors who do Pro Bono work.”

  He slid off the counter. “And you think one of those doctors would fix up the women, then kill them?” He laughed. “That’s a crazy idea.”

  A rush of anger surfaced. “It’s not crazy when we found out the same man was the surgeon for all the women.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Dr. Paul Dalton.”

  Steven’s face paled. “I’ve heard of that guy. He’s a legend. No way would he hurt anyone.” He was practically shouting.

  “Maybe, but as I said, it’s only a theory.”

  Steven’s stiff shoulders relaxed. “Gotta go. Let me know if anything else turns up.”

  With that, he slipped out. Kerry finished cleaning up and started her paperwork. She was about to call Hunter and tell him she was ready to call it a day when her autopsy door swung open and smashed against the back wall. Steven’s hands gripped the doorframe, his face gaunt.

  “What’s wrong?” She tensed.

  “You gotta come. Dr. A just called. The police uncovered another mass burial pit. They need you.”

  Her mind shattered into pieces. “I thought he was in his office doing paperwork.”

  “So did I, but he got the call and left, apparently.”

  “I need a second to gather my tools.”

  She’d unpacked her bag to clean the brushes and tools. The items lay strewn on the black countertop. Kerry scooped them up tools. “Can you hand me that brown satchel over there?”

  Between her work and Steven’s help, they managed to collect her gear in under five minutes. Kerry and Steven ran down the empty corridor, the sounds of their feet slapping against the linoleum floor. Dr. Ahern would have shovels in his medical examiner’s van.

  By the time they made it to the parking lot, Kerry was out of breath. The high humidity sucked the rest of the air from her lungs. At least the black clouds scudding above blocked out the intense heat of the sun.

  “Let me help with your gear.” He opened the trunk of his car.

  “Why are we taking your car?” she said.

  He shut the lid, jumped in the driver’s seat and started the engine. He rolled down the window and waved her to get in. “Dr. A took his usual van. The one I often use is locked, and I couldn’t find the keys. Maybe Dr. A took the keys with him. He was in a rush. Come on, get in.”

  As if on autopilot, Kerry obeyed. They headed toward the interstate, hitting all the green lights. Kerry wasn’t ready for more tragedy. Shards of pain shredded her belly. “Did they find skeletal remains?” Or would she have to look at bodies blown to smithereens.

  “Kind of. Whoever did this burned the bodies before burying them. Identification is going to be a real bitch.”

  “Oh, God.” Images of charred bones, the stench of burnt flesh raced through her mind. While no crime scene was pleasant, this one would be particularly bad.

  They rode in silence as Steven headed north on the I-275. Near Busch Boulevard, a torrent of rain blasted them, making the roads slick, and the traffic slowed to a crawl. Several cars had pulled off to the side, but Steven drove through the storm.

  They passed Bearss Avenue where #4’s mother lived. The next exit was twelve miles away. “Where is this site?”

  “Off 54.” He sounded excited, almost as though this were some grand adventure.

  “Do you help at crime scenes often?” Maybe this is what seemed to rev his engine.

  “Not until now. Dr. A. said because of the holiday, we’re short staffed. He asked me to help.”

  Kerry was pleased for him. She understood how much becoming a doctor meant to him. Though digging in the rain would not be fun. Some Fourth of July.

  Hunter. Damn. Given it was five already, she probably would be working late into evening. Kerry wanted to let him know he didn’t need to pick her up until quite late. She twisted around to the back seat to get her purse. Darn it. Steven must have dumped all her stuff in the trunk.

  “Do you have a cell? I need to call Hunter.”

  “Sorry. Mine’s dead.”

  Steven took the State Road 54 exit and headed east past a several new condo developments that sat on the east side of the road. The rain abruptly halted as quickly as it had begun.

  He turned north on Bruce B. Downs. The developed land disappeared and the road narrowed to two lanes.

  “Whoever buried these people didn’t want anyone to find this site, did they?” She kept her tone upbeat, attempting to squash the sick feeling in her gut.

  Steven made a sharp right turn down an unpaved road. Kerry looked for the sheriff’s cruisers, the M.E.’s van, or any sign the CSU team had arrived. Nothing. Off to the right, amidst a forest of shade trees sat a Port–O-Potty and about a five hundred square foot slice of cleared land. Only an abandoned tractor graced the property. Thoughts of the digger man, Willie, entered her mind. Gina had been convinced Willie was somehow tied to the killings. Now, he too was dead.

  Steven pulled off the dirt road and parked under the trees. Kerry unlocked her door and jump
ed out, needing air, needing her freedom. Steven popped the trunk.

  She looked around. “Where is everyone?” she said. “I thought Dr. A was already at the site?”

  Steven didn’t answer. He pulled something from the trunk. She leaned over to grab her purse, when Steven’s hand clamped down on her wrist. “I don’t think you’ll need that.”

  She turned. His eyes had a wild fury in them, and his mouth was twisted into a sneer. “What’s going on? I need to call Hunter.”

  “There are no bodies here, Kerry—at least not yet.”

  Before she could respond, Steven stabbed a needle into her arm.

  28

  Kerry’s eyes immediately lost focus and her legs gave way seconds after the hot liquid scorched through her veins. Her rear hit the muddy ground, and a cruel, insidious laugh invaded her mind. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she banged against something hard and sharp.

  When she awoke, she was sitting in some kind of portable potty. The heat and the stench of feces overwhelmed her, though the foul odor was the least of her problems. Her mouth was taped shut and her wrists were tightly bound behind her back with duct tape. Kerry looked down. Sweet Jesus. The bastard had stripped her bare.

  Shit. Shit. Double shit.

  Blood sped through her veins at warp speed. The four females at the gravesite had been naked too. The finality of that act hit her hard. There was no burning between her legs, so he hadn’t raped her—yet—but no telling what his future plans entailed. Steven had acted interested in her as a woman. Now it seems his flirty looks were all lies. Could he kill her in cold blood?

  Damn him.

  To make matters worse, Steven had put her right ankle behind her left and wrapped them together, making walking impossible even if she’d been able to escape. And her head pounded like a bitch.

  Breathing hard through her nose, she tried to assess the situation. As John Ahern always said, “Tell me what you see.”

  Kerry attempted to keep the bile from rising up from her gut as fear short-circuited her ability to think. She had to get out of here, wherever here was.

  Soft light eked its way through the semi-translucent plastic sides, but the illumination didn’t bring much comfort. Gray light snuck in between the cracks where the door hinged on the confining tomb. Two rolls of toilet paper were lumped on a shelf next to her.