“Did you find Mia?” she asked.
“I did.”
“Was she annoyed?”
“Some.” He shrugged. “But she promised to have me something by tomorrow.” He glanced around. “This is the anthro lab, huh?”
“Otherwise known as the Crypt. What brings you down here?”
He looked at her. “I wanted to see where you work.”
The simple answer put a flutter in her stomach.
“Okay, well . . . let me give you the tour.”
She led him into the adjacent autopsy suite, where five stainless steel tables filled the center of the room. All but one was occupied by bones recovered from Nolan’s jurisdiction.
He walked to the nearest table and studied the remains.
“One of our two Jane Does,” Sara told him. “Although I’m optimistic we’ll get a name for her.”
“Why?”
Stepping up to the table, Sara took a pencil from the pocket of her lab coat and pointed at one of the victim’s molars. “She has some distinctive restorations. Also, her femur. See here?” She indicated a hairline fracture in the bone. “This is an old injury. It was properly set at the time, so there should be medical records somewhere. If we can get a lead on who she is, then it shouldn’t be hard to confirm ID.”
“That’s where we come in.”
By the tone of his voice, she knew the responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders. He now had four victims—two still unidentified—in his community, along with a missing-persons case that was fourteen months old. Even with a task force working around the clock, the magnitude of the investigation was daunting.
Sara folded her arms over her chest. “How come you didn’t tell me about the Austin woman?”
He looked like he’d been expecting the question. “I didn’t know till Tuesday night when the detective tracked down Talia.”
“You could have told me Wednesday at the gravesite.”
“Would you have been able to work any faster?”
“No . . . But still. If this link is real, it adds a whole new urgency to what we’re doing.”
“I know.”
He stepped over to a floor-to-ceiling shelf filled with animal bones.
“That’s our reference collection,” she said. “We get a lot of nonhuman specimens, mostly midsize mammals.”
Nolan picked up a deer mandible and examined it. He glanced around the room, and his gaze lingered on the nearby table of bones. She liked that he didn’t crack jokes or make irreverent comments. So many people didn’t know what to make of her job or were put off by it. Patrick had been put off by it. He’d liked her working in the university setting, and when she started talking about how she missed forensics, he told her she’d be crazy to want to leave a good job in academia for grisly death scenes and midnight callouts.
Sara watched Nolan examining her workspace now, glad he’d made the effort to find her down here. He picked up a blue stress ball off the counter and squeezed it as he glanced around. She noticed his gaze land on the photo of her nieces, Ellie and Erin, building a sandcastle at Rehoboth Beach.
Nolan put down the stress ball and walked over to a pair of computer stations. Behind them was a bulletin board, where Sara had tacked photos of various artifacts she’d unearthed. The pictures showed a crumpled ticket stub, a dirt-caked watch, the arrow-shaped pendant she’d been fixated on for days.
“These are from crime scenes?” Nolan tapped the photo of the pendant. “I recognize this one.”
“All those items are from unsolved cases. I keep them posted there as kind of a reminder.”
He nodded. “Keeps them front of mind. I do the same but with mug shots.”
“Like you said, sometimes it’s the small things that break a case open.”
He stepped over to her. “You’re good at what you do,” he said.
“So are you.”
“Not lately.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic. You got some good leads today.”
He didn’t comment. It was hard to be optimistic with the possibility of a new victim out there.
She held his gaze, and the moment stretched out. Sara’s heart started to thud, and she knew what he was thinking even before he leaned down and kissed her.
His mouth was gentle this time. Not tentative but . . . seeking. It was a leisurely exploration, and his hands slid up her back, pulling her close. She let her body melt against him, unwilling to resist, even though they were at her office and anyone could walk in on them. She didn’t care. She just wanted to kiss him and feel his arms around her. She wanted to feel something good for a change. His hair was silky between her fingers, and she loved the firm wall of his chest. But then he eased back, cupping the side of her face as he gazed down at her.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“You looked tense.”
Her heart was hammering now, and she no longer felt tense but flustered. She should feel annoyed, too, but instead she was excited.
Smiling slightly, he eased back. “Looked like you were leaving. Want me to walk you out?”
“Sure.”
Sara hung her lab coat, then grabbed her computer bag. Nerves flitted in her stomach as she followed him out the door and locked up.
They walked down the long corridor toward the elevator. They rode up without talking, and she resisted the urge to pelt him with questions. She wanted to know what he thought of the Delphi Center, her coworkers, her theories.
She wanted to know why he’d kissed her again and why he couldn’t stay longer.
Nolan unclipped his visitor’s badge and left it on the reception desk. The lobby was deserted except for the weekend security guard. They stepped outside into the warm breeze. The sun had dropped behind the trees, but they still had some daylight left. They started walking toward the parking lot, and Sara spotted his pickup in the front row right beside her Explorer.
She glanced at him. “So, what’s next with the investigation? Do you have a plan?”
He smiled. “Of course. The plan is for Mia to get a DNA hit that magically solves the case.”
“I’m serious.”
His smile faded, and he looked down. “I’ve got a lead on a vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Security cam picked it up at the bar where Alicia Merino went missing. It’s a white Chevy Tahoe, about ten years old. No plate, but I’ve got make, model, and approximate year, so that’s a solid lead.”
They reached his pickup, and Sara thought of the last time they’d stood together beside his truck. She noticed his furrowed brow and the tense set of his jaw. The stress was weighing on him, and she wished the circumstances were different.
Maybe when everything died down . . . what? They’d go out for drinks together? Strike up a romance?
They didn’t even live in the same town, and besides, he was married to his job. So was she. The chances of this going anywhere were nonexistent.
But the thought of not seeing him anymore? That seemed wrong. Completely unacceptable.
His frown deepened.
“What?” she asked.
“I wish I had more time here.” He eased closer, and her skin tingled again as he rested his hand on her shoulder. “But I have to get back.”
“I know.”
She wanted him to stay anyway.
“Keep me in the loop, Sara.” He sounded all-business now as his hand dropped away.
“I will.”
• • •
Grace thought about food. And water. She thought about tall, juicy hamburgers and fizzy Coke poured over chipped ice. She thought about apples, and peaches, and even pickles, which she hated. Anything to take her mind off the pain and the fear and the endless blackness.
He’d left behind a bottle of water and three small pouches of orange-flavored slime. Some kind of sports gel, she guessed, although sports gel was as foreign to her as monkey brains—which she would have gladly devoured this minute if given the chance.
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br /> The sticky little packets were just enough to keep her alive. Just enough to keep her from sliding into nothingness. Why hadn’t he let her die already?
The answer was a sharp kick in her hollow stomach. Because he’s coming back.
She had to think about food again. Anything, anything, anything besides the coming pain.
The last food she’d chewed had been a warm flour tortilla at the Mexican place on Sixth Street—which now felt like another planet in a galaxy far, far away. They’d ordered fajitas for the table, but Grace had passed, worried she wouldn’t be able to zip herself into her dress for Bella’s wedding.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of her family. Had the wedding come and gone? Time was gray and shapeless, like smoke curling over a campfire, only there was no fire here, and everything was pitch-dark. Grace didn’t know if it was day or night or how many hours she’d spent in this godforsaken tomb.
She tucked her knees to her chest to ward off the chill, but it didn’t work. The floor of the cave was hard and damp, as were the walls. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think warm thoughts to keep her teeth from chattering.
Hot sand. Soft beach towel. Bright sunlight. She imagined a warm breeze and a bottle of water in her hand. She imagined guzzling it down in big, wet gulps that cooled her throat.
Grace whimpered, and the sound snapped her back to reality.
No warm beach. No thirst-quenching water. Just cold, empty darkness and the terror that never would end. Her stomach clenched as she pictured him looming over her.
He’d been back twice with a flashlight that made her blink and cower. He’d shoved her face into the dirt and raped her viciously. The first time, she’d struggled and fought him, only to feel his hands clamp around her neck, which introduced her to a whole new level of pain and panic. Turned out the survival instinct was strong. Her body wanted to breathe even more than her mind wanted to dissolve into blackness, letting the despair and the pain and the loneliness swallow her whole.
Miles above her, a high-pitched squeak, like fingernails on a chalkboard. And she remembered she wasn’t alone. The bats were stirring. Soon the air around her would shift and churn as they left for their nightly hunt. It was her only hint of time passing.
Grace didn’t trust herself to remember, so she’d peeled off the tip of a fingernail each time it happened. Six fingernails gone. Six days—although she had a sinking feeling she’d miscounted. Her mind felt fuzzy. Unreliable. The only thing she truly knew for certain was fear and pain.
The sharp claws in her stomach started digging again.
Maybe he’ll be back soon.
She hated herself for thinking it.
She hated him for planting the poisonous seed in her mind.
If he did come back, she’d gouge out his eyes this time. She’d smash his face and take every morsel of food he had with him. She’d take his flashlight and bash his head in and knock his teeth out with it. She’d be ferocious. Wild. Savage.
If only she could get her wrists free, or her ankles. Or muster the energy to lift her head off the ground, or scream, or even talk.
A sob caught in her swollen throat, and she started to cry. Tears and snot leaked out, wasting her precious fluids, but she couldn’t stop. The fear was back. She felt herself sliding deeper into the void, letting go of everything, all of it, even hope.
No, she told herself. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t give up. No, no, no.
CHAPTER 15
Talia pulled into Orr’s Nursery and parked beside a sign advertising two-for-one bags of potting soil. She and Nolan were in an unmarked unit and had spent the entire afternoon working their way down the list of white Chevy Tahoes registered in Allen County.
“You been here before?” Nolan asked.
“Bought a rosebush here once.”
“Thought you lived in an apartment?”
“It was for my mom.” Talia cut the engine and surveyed the tables in front filled with daisies and marigolds.
“There’s the vehicle,” Nolan said, nodding at a row of cars beside the corrugated-metal building. A dusty white SUV with a bent rear bumper sat at the very end. The vehicle belonged to Chad Lindell, thirty-six. Lindell had done a year in lockup following an aggravated assault. Lindell had been one of the first names on their list, but his vehicle hadn’t been at home, and Talia had had to track down his workplace through his parole officer.
Talia looked at Nolan, who had taken the lead on all the previous stops. “I’m ready to switch. Mind if I do the talking this time?”
“He’s all yours,” Nolan said. “I’m not even here.”
“What are you going to do?”
He smiled. “What do you think? Look for clues.”
“What, like maybe he left a bloody murder weapon on the front seat?”
“Hey, you never know.” Nolan pushed open his door. “You got this?”
“Absolutely.”
They split up, Talia heading for the nursery entrance as Nolan strolled across the lot to casually check out the Tahoe. He wasn’t exactly subtle, though. Even with his gun concealed under his leather jacket, Nolan looked like a cop. And any ex-con would spot their unmarked police unit a mile away.
A row of green wagons was parked at the nursery’s entrance. Talia walked past them and was greeted by a smiling blond woman wearing a green apron.
“Help you this evening?”
“Chad Lindell. Where can I find him?”
The woman turned and pointed across the rows of shrubs in five-gallon containers. “At the side entrance there with that delivery guy.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
Talia took her time approaching the two men, who stood beside a tall stack of mulch bags. Chad also wore a green apron, and Talia recognized his shaved head from his booking photo. The man was short but stocky and probably outweighed Talia by a hundred pounds.
Chad signed something on a clipboard, then handed it back to the delivery guy, who nodded and walked off.
“Mr. Lindell?”
Chad turned around, instantly suspicious. His gaze went straight to Talia’s badge.
“What do you want?”
“Detective Vazquez, Springville PD. I’d like to have a quick word.”
He darted a look over her shoulder. “I’m working here.”
“This won’t take long.”
He folded his arms over his chest.
“Would you prefer to talk at the station house?”
“No.”
“All right. Sir, is that your vehicle out front there? The white Chevrolet Tahoe?”
“What about it?”
“The 2009?”
He frowned. “What about it?”
“A vehicle like that came up in connection with a crime recently.”
“Hey.” He stepped forward. “Some jackass backed into me and took off. I didn’t even see it.”
“When did this happen?”
“ ’Bout a week ago. Why?”
“Did you file a report?”
“You think I have time to file reports? I’m working two damn jobs just trying to keep my head above water.”
Talia nodded, pretending to be sympathetic. “Mr. Lindell, I noticed you received a speeding ticket in San Antonio last August.”
The frown deepened. “I paid it.”
“Do you get down there a lot, sir?”
“Come again?”
“San Antonio? How often do you go there?”
His gaze hardened. Obviously, she wasn’t here about a crumpled bumper. “I don’t know. Now and then. I’ve got friends there.”
“When was the last time you visited San Antonio? Do you remember?”
“August. When I got the ticket. Why?”
“Are you sure?”
His glare intensified, but Talia stood her ground.
“I’m sure.” He glanced over her shoulder again. “Anything else? I need to get back to work here.”
; She didn’t say anything, just watched him, trying to read his expression.
“That it?”
“That’s it, thanks.”
He stalked off, and Talia watched him. He went right past several customers and disappeared into the corrugated-metal building.
Talia returned to her car, where Nolan stood waiting by the passenger door.
“How was he?”
“Hostile.” She slid behind the wheel. “But not spooked. He lied about his Tahoe, though. Told me someone backed into him.”
“How do you know he was lying?”
“I could tell.”
“Okay. What about San Antonio?”
“He copped to the ticket in August. Said that’s the last time he was there.” Talia pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway.
“And?”
She glanced at Nolan.
“Do you believe him?” he asked.
She sighed. “I do, actually.”
“At least you got him on record with that. Now, if we find out he was there October second when Alicia Merino disappeared, he’s got a problem.”
“I’ll talk to his PO again. See if he knows anything about these friends in San Antonio.”
“Not a bad idea,” Nolan said.
“But I doubt if it matters. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“Why not?”
“Call it a hunch.” She looked at Nolan. “How many left on that list?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Seriously?” She slapped the steering wheel. “We’ve been at this all day, and we’ve got shit to show for it.”
Nolan shook his head. “Welcome to Homicide.”
• • •
On impulse, Sara swung into the Walmart parking lot on her way into Springville. She passed through the rows of cars but saw no white Chevy Tahoes, old or otherwise. Across the street was a cinema, and Sara tried there, too, spotting a silver Tahoe parked at the end of a row. But besides being the wrong color, it was so new it had dealer plates.
Feeling foolish, Sara returned to the highway and cut across town to the motel. She didn’t need to drive around town this evening. What she needed to do was catch up on paperwork and get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow.
Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped lunch and it was almost six. Sara surveyed her options as she drew near the motel. Pizza Hut. Subway. The diner that the motel manager had recommended. And then there was the Dairy Queen where she’d gone with Nolan.
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