Buried Deep: A dark Romantic Suspense (The Buried Series Book 3)

by Vella Day

  He needed more specific information. “Do you remember the color of the house?”

  She bit her lower lip. “White, I think. The lawn was a pile of weeds. I don’t think he wanted anyone to know I was living there.”

  No shit.

  “How about a street sign,” Wolfe interjected.

  She yanked the sheet up around her neck, and her feet stuck out the end. Gauze and white tape covered the bottoms, but her toes were cut and scraped, documenting her story. “None of the roads were marked. Mostly, I stayed along the tree line once I was free. I didn’t want him to find me.”

  “Do you remember what time you left the house? And what day you left?”

  “I think today. It was around five or six in the morning.”

  The hospital said they picked her up a few hours ago.

  “Can you describe this barn?” Trevor asked. Maybe that’s where he was keeping Lara.

  “I only saw the inside. He blindfolded me from the house to the barn. He told me how he killed all the people underneath the wax—Native Americans mostly. He was real proud of his work. He even told me that he’d dipped them in plaster and covered them in wax.” She sniffled, and then blew her nose. “He did it for his dead mother who was a Seminole Indian. It was kind of sad.”

  Excitement at finding a clear clue increased his heart rate. Bernie told him Robert’s mother was Seminole.

  Wolfe’s lip curled. “Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s a killer.”

  “I know.”

  “Thank you.” Trevor placed his card on her side table. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

  “Hey, mister?”

  Trevor turned back. “Yes?”

  “Will you let me know when you get him? I want to know when he’s dead.”

  “You have my word on it.” He handed her the phone. “Have fun talking to your family.”

  She took the phone with trembling hands. “Thanks.”

  Wolfe and Trevor sprinted to the car. Wolfe took the wheel once more. “Now where to?”

  “I want to see if Carla can locate Hoffman’s house in the country. The sheriff told the Captain where they found Maggie. Given the condition of her feet, she couldn’t have walked too far.”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  Trevor paced outside Carla’s office while Wolfe sat cross-legged on the floor staring into space. Trevor had given Carla the coordinates of Maggie Sanchez’s found location. She pulled up the latest satellite images and promised to find a white, boarded up stucco house with a barn in back, surrounded by acres of nothingness.

  Given the amount of empty land in some parts of the state, he believed her job was like finding an alligator with a torn toenail.

  “I have something,” Carla yelled from inside her office.

  Wolfe and Trevor rushed to her side. “What?”

  She leaned back in her chair and polished her knuckles on her shirt. “I’m thinking this information deserves a week’s worth of Starbucks delivered three times a day.”

  “If it leads us to Lara, I’ll deliver coffee for a month,” Trevor said. “Personally.”

  She smiled. “Look here.” She pointed to a house on the satellite map that matched the description.

  “I need the address.”

  Carla printed off the directions and handed them to Trevor.

  “You are the best.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  “Just find Lara, and we’ll be even.”

  He and Wolfe made it down the stairs to the cruiser in less than sixty seconds. He tossed the paper to Wolfe and started the engine. “Call the Captain and fill him in. We need back up.”

  Trevor’s wet palms nearly slipped off the wheel as he peeled out of the University parking lot. The moment he reached Fowler Avenue, he turned on the sirens. It would be the longest drive of his life.

  30

  The rain had come and gone and still no Robert. Lara had checked her watch so many times she feared the small battery that lit the display would die.

  When Robert did arrive, she bet he would strut in, reach in to flip on the light switch and zap. She’d pull the cord on the alarm to stun him.

  Then she’d kill him.

  She tightened her grip on the pitchfork while going through the mental exercise of facing him and jabbing him in the gut. Would the courts call that self-defense if he wasn’t in the act of attacking her? What if he didn’t even have a weapon on him? Could she prove he planned to kill her?

  Was being drugged, tied, and locked in a barn proof enough he planned to harm her?

  It didn’t matter. The man had to die. He was a monster, a killer, and a sick man.

  She must have dozed when the piece of wood fell and hit her leg.

  He’s here.

  Her heart climbed up her throat. Eyes open, hands on both weapons, she slipped off her seat and plastered her back against the wall a few inches from the light switch. Her heart thudded so hard she was convinced he’d know she was there.

  The barn doors wiggled, and her muscles froze. Don’t fail me now.

  Having her hands tied together made the attack that much trickier, but she had to try. It was now or never. Either she’d succeed and escape, or die.

  She moved her fingers and flexed her legs ready to immobilize Robert Hoffman.

  When he pushed open the door, the heavy wooden structure slapped inches from her face. Some light from outside filtered in, but not enough for him to detect her presence—or so she hoped.

  She pulled the cord on the alarm. To her, nothing happened, but she almost laughed as Robert grabbed his ears and staggered into the barn. She swung the prongs back.

  Attack.

  Now.

  She pushed away from the door and thrust the weapon forward. The tines slid into Robert’s side, and the horror of her action stopped her heart. She let go of the handle and stepped back. His eyes widened as he pulled out the fork and gasped.

  “You bitch.” He clutched his side and blood trickled over his fingers.

  He stepped toward her and smiled.

  She panted from the intense act and her arms went limp. Lara reeled backward trying to figure out how the man could still be standing. From her medical training, she understood he’d be able to move for a short while, but the smile unnerved her. She moved away from him, but he acted as if he wasn’t injured. He slid his hand in his pocket and took out a knife.

  Her back hit the wall. He had her trapped, unless she could move around him. She needed to draw him in, make him work to get her. Then she’d run.

  She spun on her heel and ran to the table in the middle of the barn. She could play Ring-Around-The-Rosie for hours with the man. He’d bleed to death before he captured her.

  Suddenly, Robert jerked, the dropped the knife from his fingers, and he crumpled.

  She looked up. Silhouetted against the open door were two men. One tall, the other a giant. Before she could move or speak, one of the men raced across the barn and wrapped her in his arms. Trevor! Joy infused every muscle.

  He squeezed her tight, but she didn’t care. Lara worked her arms free and held up her fettered hands. “Could you get these off?” I want to touch your face, your lips, all of you.

  He’d come for her. Been there for her.

  “Hey, Derek,” Trevor said, as he faced her. “You got a knife handy?”

  His friend must have said something, for a knife appeared a second later.

  In a flash, her wrists were free. “Thank you,” she said.

  Trevor grabbed his phone. She didn’t know who he was calling, but she didn’t question him. She was safe, and Robert was dead. Or would be soon.

  Her hero sat with her for the next forty-five minutes while the ambulance was on the way. Their conversation took time since she had to read his lips. He repeated his sentences with amazing patience, and she realized how much she loved him—and trusted him.

  Derek Wolfe waited outside by the road to make sure the ambulance found her hidden hell.<
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  She argued with Trevor about not going to the hospital, but he wouldn’t give in. When the paramedics finally arrived, they checked her out and pronounced her unharmed, however, they insisted she spend the night for observation because of the drugs.

  “I’m fine.” Physically, at least.

  “Most drugs takes a good twenty-four hours to get out of the system,” one of the paramedics told her. “We can’t know for certain how you’ll react until the drug had run its course.”

  This time, she didn’t resist. A night in the hospital might guarantee a good night’s sleep unless they woke her every few hours to check on her.

  Trevor ran his hands over her shoulders. “I’ll call you when I finish up here. I have to wait for the CSU team.”

  “Do what you have to.” She hugged Trevor. “Thanks for giving me my life back.”

  “You saved yourself.” She’d been about to argue when Trevor held up a hand. “Wolfe found something.”

  He broke away and headed to one of the sheets. He’d find Ethan. Dear God, she wanted to be with him, to console him over what he was about to see. His brother’s death could destroy even the strongest person.

  “Ms. Romano. We need to take you now.” The paramedic waved a hand toward the ambulance.

  Not only would Trevor have to deal with Ethan’s death, he would have to break the news to his parents. Poor Trevor.

  To make matters worse for him, the fact his bullet killed Robert meant a tremendous amount of paperwork. How long before she’d see him again was anyone’s guess, but she refused to believe she would never see him now that his bodyguard job was finished. In her heart, she believed he cared for her. Deeply.

  No sooner had she crawled into the hospital bed, than it seemed the nurse was shaking her shoulder, waking her up.

  “Time to go home. The doctor has released you.”

  Lara wanted to ask Trevor to pick her up, but given what he had to do today, she didn’t want to bother him. Instead, she called Carla for a ride home. She had no money for a cab and didn’t know who else to call.

  Within the hour, her friend arrived. “Are you hungry?”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “Let’s do Applebees and you can fill me in.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Once they were seated, Lara told Carla as much as she could remember.

  “That’s horrifying. You are the bravest woman I know,” Carla said.

  No one had called her brave before. “Thank you.” Lara reached out and grabbed Carla’s hand. “How did Trevor know where to find me?”

  Carla told her about Maggie Sanchez and how she’d been held captive for seven months before escaping.

  “Now there’s one brave woman.” Lara took a sip of her iced tea. “There is something I’d like you to look into if you can.”

  “Name it.”

  Lara told her about the meeting with her biological father. “Can you see if you can find any more information out about my mother?” She told her about the Tampa real estate office where her mom had worked close to thirty years ago.

  “I can try, but why not ask Trevor? He’s good at finding people.”

  “He doesn’t know.”

  “About you being adopted?”

  Lara shook her head.

  “Why not? I thought you two were so tight.”

  “We are, but—”

  Carla waved a fork at her. “But what? You must not love him if you don’t trust him.”

  She winced. “It’s not that simple. Trevor has enough on his plate with Ethan’s death. I’ll tell him when things calm down.” Whether she could tell him about the rape, she wasn’t sure. Other than her nanny, who didn’t believe her, no one knew.

  After dinner, Carla drove her home. She was so ready for a hot shower and bed.

  Carla pulled up to the curb.

  "My car's back!"

  "I guess someone picked it up from the museum," Carla said with a smile.

  "That is so sweet."

  “By the way, Phil said to take tomorrow off if you’re not up to working.”

  “Not on your life. I can’t wait to have some normalcy back.” She eased out. The air smelled sweeter and the house looked more comforting than she remembered. “Thanks for the dinner company.”

  “Anytime.”

  Fortunately, Wolfe had located her purse in Robert’s car and had given it to Carla to give to her, so she was able to enter. While she showered in scalding hot water she did a quick charge with her batteries. It was after seven when she finished, and as much as she wanted to call Trevor, she figured he’d want to be with his grieving family. Maybe she’d email him to say she’d be there if he needed someone to talk to.

  No sooner had she put her dishes in the dishwasher than a knock sounded on her door. Her nerves tightened. Relax. Robert is dead.

  She opened the front door. The giant, Derek Wolfe, stood there, body rigid, face unreadable. She leaned to the side to see if Trevor had come. He hadn’t, and a sick, icky sensation grabbed her gut.

  “Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but I would like to take your statement about what happened in the barn.”

  “I told Trevor everything.” And Carla.

  “He’s been busy, and the Captain wants this wrapped up soon.”

  She’d tell him again if it would lessen the burden on Trevor. “Of course. Come in.”

  Worry lines around Wolfe’s mouth appeared deeper than before. Ethan Kinsey was his partner. He, too, had to be suffering from the loss.

  “I’m sorry about your partner.”

  Wolfe squared his shoulders. “Comes with the job, ma’am.”

  “Please, call me Lara.”

  No use trying to pry emotions from the man. His ring finger implied he had a wife. Hopefully, Mrs. Wolfe could give him the needed comfort.

  She spent an hour detailing everything she could remember. As Wolfe stood to leave, her burning question escaped. “How’s Trevor holding up?”

  His lips pressed together. “He’s taking Ethan’s death hard. He blames himself for some reason, when it is I who am responsible for Ethan dying.”

  This self-blame needed to stop. “Robert Hoffman killed Ethan, not Trevor and not you.”

  “To the outsider, you may see it that way.”

  Before she could reason with the man, he left. Lara peered out the window and watched him pull away. “I’m not an outsider, dammit.”

  After a restless night and no phone call from Trevor, she headed to the lab. Wolfe had told her all of the wax figures would be shipped to HOPEFAL for her to identify. The names of the missing Native Americans, together with their X-rays and dental scans Trevor had provided should help make the identifications easy.

  She punched the code for her lab and entered. The cold room seemed to mock her, almost as if she didn’t belong there. “I wasn’t gone that long,” she said to the walls.

  Before she had a chance to put on her protective gear Phil rolled in.

  “I have something I believe belongs to you.” He held up the Algonquin Fox necklace.

  She raised her hands. “While it is beautiful, I don’t want anything to do with it. Where did you find it?”

  “In Robert’s coat jacket.”

  “Please donate it. I don’t want any reminder of what happened.”

  “I understand.”

  Phil wheeled around to go.

  “Phil?” she said.

  He faced her. “Yeah?”

  “What ever happened to Bernie?” She’d assumed all sorts of horrible things about the man, many of which were not true.

  “His lawyers are negotiating his release. He admitted to attacking Robert on behalf of his friend, Nate Roberts, but since he told us his crime was to help save you, he might be given leniency.”

  “Will he come back to work here?”

  Phil shook his head. “Mr. Pomerantz gave him a chance once, and he didn’t live up to his promise.”

  “Thanks.”

/>   As if a mirage appeared, Trevor stood at the door.

  Phil winked. “We’ll catch you later. Glad you’re back.”

  She wanted to launch herself into Trevor’s arms, but he had just lost his brother. The dark circles under his eyes stopped her. “Hi.”

  “We need to talk.” His eyes didn’t sparkle and his mouth sagged, which was not a good sign.

  Her stomach soured. “Sure.”

  Trevor waved a hand at the two chairs next to the computer. She sat, hands clasped on her lap awaiting the bad news.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said.

  From the stern look in his eyes, he was not happy. “Tell you what?”

  “About being adopted. About being Native American. About finding out who your real father was.”

  Anger and fear collided. “Who told you?”

  “Not you.”

  “Carla.”

  “It wasn’t her fault. I coerced her when she let something slip.” He held up his hand. “This is not about Carla. She didn’t betray you.”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I didn’t have time.”

  “Since your return from New Mexico, you’ve had a lot of time. Here I thought we had something special—something really special. But if you can’t stop worrying about what others think of you, we can never be together.”

  Her heart sank to her stomach. “I meant to tell you, but things got in the way.”

  “Meant to doesn’t count.”

  Chief Running Bear stood, turned on his heel and left. She should have chased after him, but the confusion and guilt stopped her. She dropped back onto the computer chair and hung her head. Once the tears started, they wouldn’t stop.

  31

  Lara barely remembered the following week since she hardly slept or ate. She worked on the wax figures as often as possible, needing to find their identities so Trevor could move on and apply for a position at Homicide. At least one of them could have their life’s dream realized.

  She wanted to see how he was holding up, but she had no doubt that his life was a living hell right now, and that he didn’t need to have her to deal with. He’d been right about everything. She’d been so self-centered that she never took a second look at how her parents had treated her. The cochlear implant was better than hearing aids, but her parents should have wanted her to have them so she’d have a better life, not so they wouldn’t be embarrassed by her deafness. Their lies about her origin only made things worse. She was fine with being part Native American and proud to be part of the nation’s history, but to keep her birth a secret for so long was plain wrong.