He hoped to hell she meant morning, but who knew how long it would take for her to get people and gear all the way from Delphi? Nolan had never visited the world-famous crime lab, but he knew it was in San Marcos, a good two hours away. The Delphi Center sat on several hundred acres of ranchland that had been converted into a forensic anthropology research center, also known as a body farm.
They reached the top of the trail, and she stopped to look around. “Did Bryce leave?”
“Who?” he asked.
“The search-and-rescue guy.”
“Gaines. Yeah.” They were on a first-name basis already. “ACSAR cleared out about half an hour ago. Weekends are busy for them.”
Sara nodded and surveyed the parking lot. The hatchbacks were gone, leaving only Nolan’s truck, the park district Suburban, and a black SUV. Sara pulled some keys from her pocket, along with a cell phone.
“Bars! Hallelujah.” She smiled up at him. “I wasn’t getting any reception down there.”
“Yeah, it’s like being in a cave.”
Her smile faltered, and she looked down at her screen. “Let me just get a message to my assistant. I need to give him a heads-up about tomorrow.”
Nolan watched her nimbly work her phone with one hand while with the other she popped the locks and opened the cargo space of her vehicle. A breeze swept over them, and he caught the scent of her perfume—something soft and feminine, totally at odds with her grimy coveralls and rugged old boots. Nolan watched her, impressed by her brisk confidence. She’d only just arrived, and already she’d taken charge of the scene. After finishing her message, she tucked the phone into her pocket and tossed her helmet into the back.
“So this recovery,” he said. “How long will that take?”
“Depends. Could be as quick as a day. Maybe two.”
Two days? Nolan bit back a curse. “Any idea how long she’s been down there?”
“The sex is unconfirmed, Detective.”
“That’s Nolan. Any idea how long the bones have been down there?”
She unclipped the pack around her waist and added it to the growing pile of gear. “Again, I can’t be sure yet, but I’d say six months, at least, possibly more.”
Six months or more. So, the remains might belong to Kaylin Baird, and then again, they might not. Nolan raked a hand through his hair.
She grabbed a bottle of water and offered it to him.
“No, thanks.”
“I won’t be able to tell you anything for certain until I’m back to the lab.” She twisted the top off the water and took a gulp, watching him. “These aren’t the sort of remains you just pick up and zip into a pouch. They’re partially buried. We’re talking about an excavation.”
“I get that.”
She gazed up at him, unapologetic about the delay. He shouldn’t have been surprised—she was a scientist.
“Look, Nolan, I understand you have a million questions. I work with investigators all the time, so I know how it goes. I’ll get you answers as soon as I can.”
He liked that she was using his first name. He didn’t like that she was holding out on him. He was one-hundred-percent certain she knew more than she was saying.
She looked at her watch, a chunky, masculine thing much too big for her small wrist.
“And now I have a question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“Any chance this town has a motel?”
CHAPTER 4
“Did we cover everything?” Sara asked.
“I think so.”
“Thanks again, Aaron.” She pressed her phone against her shoulder as she rummaged through her duffel bag. “And sorry to drag you away from the wedding.”
“I was leaving anyway. Brooke and Sean already took off.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow, then. And text me if you have trouble finding it.”
They hung up, and Sara tossed her phone onto the bed with a sigh. It sounded like Aaron was leaving the party alone, which was too bad. He was one of the few people at work who had even less of a social life than she did. Aaron avoided happy hours and always seemed perfectly content to eat lunch at his desk. Sara knew the feeling.
She went into the bathroom and unwrapped the tiny bar of soap beside the sink. Despite the worn carpet and faded bedspread, the Morningstar Motor Lodge was reasonably clean, which was all she ever hoped for in a cheap motel.
She scrubbed her face and arms, then eyed her reflection in the mirror as she dried off with a towel. Her hair—which she’d so carefully styled this afternoon—was messy and windblown, and she twisted it into a knot. Her growling stomach reminded her she hadn’t eaten in hours, and she wistfully recalled the cocktail shrimp and wedding cake she’d planned to have for dinner tonight. She checked her watch: 11:45. If she hustled, she could probably still get a bite before everything closed for the night.
She grabbed her purse and her room key. Stepping into the oven-hot air, she counted only five other vehicles in the motel lot. The front office was dark, along with the diner next door. Sara glanced across the street and saw the grocery store was dark, too, and its parking lot completely deserted.
“Crap.” She sighed and looked around.
A dusty white pickup turned left at the intersection. It swung into the motel lot, and Sara’s nerves did a little dance.
Nolan Hess. The detective was tall and powerfully built. He had warm brown eyes and an easygoing smile, but underneath all that was an edge. The man had that hyperalert attitude that Sara always associated with cops.
He glided to a stop in front of her, and something about his arm resting on the door of his truck sent a warm flutter through her stomach.
“Settling in okay?” he asked.
“Yes. Actually, no. Is there a drive-through still open where I can get something to eat?”
“Not a one.”
“Maybe a Walmart?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “What about a convenience store?”
“I know a gas station that’s probably open. Hop in.”
She stared at him. She’d grown up in the city, where you didn’t accept rides from strange men, badge or no. It was an ironclad rule, drilled into her by her overprotective father, who was a commander in the Coast Guard.
Screw it, she was hungry. She walked around and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
She fastened her seat belt, suddenly self-conscious about her filthy coveralls and dusty hair. Nolan pulled out of the lot quickly, and she looked at his hand on the steering wheel. No wedding ring, but she’d noticed that already.
He glanced at her.
“I talked to my assistant,” she said. “We’re all set for tomorrow.”
He nodded. “What can we do?”
“Keep people out of the park, mainly. Bone recovery sites tend to attract onlookers. And sometimes treasure hunters.”
“We’re on it. Tom barricaded the gates, and we’ve got officers patrolling tonight to make sure things stay quiet.”
“Good.” She only hoped Tom’s idea of a barricade was something more than a rusty chain.
“So, how’s it look so far? I assume we’re dealing with a homicide?”
“We shouldn’t jump to that conclusion,” she said.
“So . . . suicide? Accidental fall?” His voice was skeptical.
“Until we’ve done a full excavation, I won’t have sufficient evidence to make that determination.”
“But you’re experienced,” he said, clearly opting for flattery. “What’s your gut so far, based on what you’ve seen?”
“I don’t know yet,” she insisted. “I won’t have conclusive answers for you until I get the bones to the lab.”
He fell silent, as though letting it go. For now, at least. But his impatience was palpable.
She stole another glance at him. He had prominent cheekbones and a square jaw—an undeniably attractive combination. Some women s
wooned over big muscles, but Sara was a sucker for good bone structure.
Not that he was lacking in the muscles department. He had wide shoulders, and she liked the way his big hand rested casually on the gearshift. Simply driving his truck, the man exuded confidence.
He pulled into a gas station, and Sara immediately spotted the CLOSED sign posted on the door.
“Damn it,” she muttered. Was a day-old hot dog and a toothbrush too much to hope for?
Nolan parked and shoved open his door. “Come on.”
Sara slid from the truck as he walked over and tapped his knuckles on the door. A fiftyish woman in reading glasses looked up from behind the cash register, and Nolan gave her a wave. She walked around the counter to unlock the door.
“Evenin’, Mary Jo.”
“Nolan.” She smiled and held the door open. “Working late tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He stepped inside, and Sara followed him into the air-conditioning. “Any chance you got some of that coffee?”
“I was just about to pitch it. Want me to make a fresh pot?”
“I’ll take whatever you got left. Mind if we have a look around?”
“Of course not.” She looked at Sara over her reading glasses. “Help you find anything, hon?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” Sara turned down an aisle, leaving Nolan to chat up the shopkeeper as she looked for a few necessities. She found a travel toothbrush kit, a box of granola bars, and a cellophane-wrapped turkey sandwich. She’d skip the beverages and make do with the water she had back in her room.
Glancing over the row of shelves, she saw the shopkeeper was now deep in conversation with Nolan. The woman turned to look at Sara, and her serious expression let Sara know they were talking about the bone discovery. Springville was a small community, and the news was probably all over town by now.
Sara made her way to the front and set her items beside the register.
“It’s on the house,” the woman said with a wave.
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“I insist.” She looked at Nolan. “Y’all take care now. Say hi to your folks.”
“Thanks for the coffee.” Nolan nodded and lifted his cup as he pushed open the door.
“She didn’t have to do that,” Sara said as they walked to the pickup. Nolan went around and opened the passenger door—a display of manners that left her speechless.
“She wanted to,” he said. “She knows why you’re here, and she wants to help.”
“Still, I feel bad.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
They drove back to the motel, which was on the far west side of town, and Sara took in the view. All the storefronts were dark, which seemed unusual for a Saturday night.
Sara wasn’t used to small-town friendliness or gifts from strangers or men opening doors for her. But Nolan seemed at ease with all of it.
She looked at him. “Did you grow up here?”
He nodded. “Grew up, moved away, came back.”
“It’s a nice town. Quaint.”
He made a noncommittal sound.
“You don’t think so?”
“Looks can be deceiving.” He glanced at her. “Crime is on the rise. Meth labs, human trafficking, sexual assault. We’ve got everything.”
“Less than the city, at least.”
He lifted an eyebrow but didn’t comment, and a silence settled over them. Sara looked out the window again, tearing her gaze away from him. Everything about him was so masculine, and she kept catching herself staring at his mouth, his neck, his hands. She had to stop it. She was here to work, not to flirt.
“Thanks for doing this,” he said. “I understand we pulled you away from a party?”
“A wedding.”
He winced.
“It’s okay.”
“Family?” he asked.
“A colleague of mine. And it’s not like we’re best friends or anything. Really, it was a courtesy invitation. I moved here not long ago, so I’m the new girl at work.”
“Moved here from . . . Maryland?”
She blinked at him. “Rockville. How’d you know that?”
“Your accent.”
“Damn. I thought I got rid of that.”
He shrugged. “My grandmother’s from Bethesda.”
He turned into the motel parking lot and pulled up to the sidewalk. “It’s not exactly the Ritz, but the diner next door does a good breakfast.”
“The manager told me.” Sara gathered her items and looked at him across the dim truck cab. And for the first time, she noticed the creases around his eyes and the shadow along his jaw. He’d had a long day, as she had, but still he seemed energized. She wondered about the coffee he’d picked up and whether the officers patrolling the park tonight included him.
“We’ll start early tomorrow,” she said. “Before the heat sets in.”
He nodded. “Up with the sun.”
The expression caught her off guard. It was one of her dad’s favorites, and Sara suddenly missed his voice. Maybe she should call him tomorrow. Catching up with her parents would take her mind off the lonely motel room. They’d be full of news about her brother and her nieces, which was sure to take her mind off tomorrow’s grim task, too.
“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked.
“Nothing. Thanks for the ride.” She opened her door.
“Thank you for coming out tonight.”
“No problem.”
Another nod. “Good night, Sara.”
She felt his gaze on her as she walked to her door and slid in the key card. He waited until she was safely inside before pulling away.
• • •
Nolan thought about her as he returned to the police station.
Sara Lockhart was smart. Headstrong. And those big green eyes were going to be a distraction from what he needed to be focused on right now—leading a murder investigation. Because no matter how cagey Sara acted, Nolan knew in his gut that they were dealing with a homicide, and this case had the potential to rock his community to its core. According to Mary Jo, news of the bone discovery in White Falls Park had already spread like brushfire.
Nolan’s thoughts went to Sara again. She was beautiful, no getting around it. She was assertive, too, and she refused to be pressured, which was good and bad. Bad because he was impatient. Good because when he finally did get her conclusions, he felt confident they’d be the result of careful study. He had to respect her methods. Having seen more than one major case fall apart at trial due to sloppy lab work, he knew the importance of precision and accuracy.
Nolan spotted a familiar gray truck as he neared the police station.
“Shit,” he muttered. Instead of parking in his usual space, he pulled up alongside the truck and gave the man behind the wheel a nod before getting out.
The driver’s-side window was down, and Nolan walked over.
“Evening, Sam.”
“Nolan.”
The man’s eyes were bloodshot. He’d been crying or drinking, maybe both.
Sam leveled a look at him. “I heard about the bones.”
Nolan nodded. “Want to come in for some coffee and we can talk?”
“I don’t need coffee. I need you to shoot straight with me.”
“All right.” Nolan stepped closer. “I’ll tell you what I know. About five o’clock, two hikers discovered some remains in Rattlesnake Gorge.”
Sam’s gaze didn’t waver.
“We got an expert out there, a forensic anthropologist, and she confirms the bones are human. They’ll be excavated tomorrow, but so far, we don’t know whether this is a male or a female, and there’s nothing to indicate ID yet.”
Sam looked ahead. The man was fifty-one, only fifteen years older than Nolan, but the past year had added a decade. Losing a child took a brutal toll. Nolan had been working for a year to find the family some answers, but so far, he’d failed, and that failure ate away at him every day. There was no getting away from it. In a town this size
, the reminders were everywhere.
Sam reached to the seat beside him and picked up a manila envelope. “When Kaylin was nine, she got thrown from a horse. Broke her arm in two places. These are the X-rays.”
Nolan took the envelope, feeling awkward as he looked down at it.
“Give that to your expert,” Sam said. “See if it speeds things along.”
“I’ll do that.”
Sam started up the truck. “Call when you know something, day or night. You’ve got all our numbers.”
Nolan put his hand on the door. “You okay to drive?”
Sam gave him a hard look, then put the truck in gear and backed out of the space. Nolan’s chest ached as he watched him drive away.
• • •
Pain surrounded her like water.
Grace was floating in it. Swimming in it. Drowning in it. Only she couldn’t move.
She couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. The pain was thick and heavy, pressing hard against her skin, flattening the air from her lungs.
Grace’s head pounded. It was like a hangover but worse—like the morning after she and her friend Ava had raided the liquor cabinet, taking a shot from every bottle so her parents wouldn’t notice anything was gone.
My parents. Oh, God.
Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and she squeezed them shut.
Her eyes had been open. She realized that now. She could open and close her eyes, and everything remained pitch-black.
Where am I?
The question sent a zing of panic through her. She had to get out.
She tried to move her arms. Nothing. Her fingers. Nothing. Each of her limbs felt weighted down. She couldn’t even move her toes, and just the effort made the pain intensify.
She tried moving her tongue. It felt thick and swollen, and she realized there was a gag inside her mouth. Moving her tongue around as much as she could, she tasted something sour, maybe vomit. And something else, too, something sweet. Grape but not like the fruit—more like the purple cold-medicine kind. Had she been drugged?
She tried to wet her lips, but her tongue was too dry. The corners of her mouth felt parched and stinging, same as her throat.
A sudden movement, and she jerked sideways.
I’m in a car.
The burst of clarity brought a wave of relief. But it turned to despair when the next thought came: Where is he taking me?
Stone Cold Heart Page 3