Kaylin Baird was buried in a shallow grave not far from the cave complex where her killer had kept his victims. Less than twelve hours after Elaine Hansen helped elicit Gaines’s confession, Nolan, Sara, and her team had arrived at the grove of trees near a weathered deer blind. Within five minutes of arriving, Peaches had located the spot. Sara and her team spent the day toiling in the sun, and by nightfall they’d completed the excavation and loaded everything into the van to take back to the lab.
The Hansens had once owned the twenty-acre property and leased the mineral rights to an oil company. But the wells and the money had stopped flowing, and the property was sold for next to nothing, creating one of the many hardships that set the stage for Bryce Gaines’s tumultuous childhood.
Not that Nolan gave a shit.
He saw it over and over—the endless cycle where cruelty begets cruelty, abuse begets abuse. Nolan no longer focused on excuses. People had to be held accountable, and holding Bryce Gaines accountable for the rape, torture, and murder of seven women was Nolan’s chief objective now.
Now he peered through the window into the autopsy suite where Sara was finishing up. She made a few notes on a clipboard and then set it aside on the counter where Aaron stood at a laptop. The two exchanged words, and then Sara stripped off her latex gloves and tossed them into a trash bin before scrubbing her hands and stepping out of the laboratory.
“Have you been here long?” She checked her watch. “I thought we said nine.”
“We did.” He nodded toward the lab. “How’s it going?”
Sara heaved a sigh. “It’s done.”
Nolan was surprised.
“I still have to write up my report, but my findings are complete. You have a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She perched on the edge of her desk and took a deep breath. “Cause of death, blunt-force trauma to the skull. The instrument was something long and heavy.”
“We recovered a tire iron from the Tahoe with some blood on it.” As Nolan had expected, Gaines’s vehicle was a treasure trove of evidence.
“An instrument like that would fit,” Sara said. “We can have our tool-marks examiner take a look to confirm.”
“Okay, what else?” Nolan braced himself.
“No further fractures. The only other sign of bone trauma is an old injury to her arm, which matches the X-rays provided by the family.”
“From when Kaylin was thrown from a horse.”
Sara nodded.
“So you’re saying . . .”
“She was not tortured and held captive like the others. No signs of further bone trauma, no garrote marks. It appears to have been a blitz-style attack from behind. She was buried soon after, clothes intact, in an eighteen-inch grave, which is pretty standard.”
Jesus. She had a standard for what constituted a shallow grave.
Nolan studied Sara’s face. She looked tired. She was tired. She’d had less than four hours of sleep last night before waking up and embarking on an excavation, followed by an autopsy. It had been a marathon day.
“So.” She checked her watch. “What’s the plan?”
“After this, I’m headed to the Bairds’.” He needed to do it tonight, even though he was dreading it.
She nodded. “I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
She stood. “Just give me a minute to clean up.”
Nolan put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve had a grueling day.”
“So have you. And the worst part isn’t over yet. I know, Nolan. I’ve done this before. Talking to families is the hardest part.”
Her eyes glinted with determination. She wanted to come, and if he was honest, he wanted her at his side.
And in that moment, it struck him. She was the strongest person he knew. He’d always thought he was tough, but Sara was tougher.
“Nolan, these people are grieving and heartbroken. They’re going to have questions, and I can help you answer them.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “Let me come with you.”
“All right.” He nodded. “Let’s get this done.”
• • •
Talia went straight to the hospital after work and nearly bumped into Dax as he walked out the door.
“Hey.” He stopped in front of her. Talia hadn’t seen him in the two days since Gaines’s arrest.
“I’m here for Grace. Is she—”
“You just missed her,” he said. “They discharged her twenty minutes ago. She went home with her parents.”
A nurse appeared behind him, pushing a man in a wheelchair. “Excuse me, sir?”
“Sorry.” Dax stepped out of the doorway, joining Talia on the sidewalk.
She hadn’t expected to see him here, and she wished she’d brushed her teeth after the Italian sub she wolfed down for lunch.
“Are you here for an interview or . . . ?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said. “I just wanted to check in, see how she’s doing.” She paused, searching his face. “Better, I guess, since she’s been discharged?”
His brow furrowed. “Better. Not good, but better.”
Another plainclothes cop stepped through the door, this one with a fat brown case file tucked under his arm.
“Hey, I’ll catch up,” Dax told him. The guy headed for the other parking lot, and Dax turned back to Talia.
“How’d the interview go?” she asked.
He blew out a sigh. “Fine. That was our last one, I hope. She needs to be left alone for a while.”
“Was it as bad as we thought?”
“Worse.”
Talia’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She looked at him more closely. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sometimes this job . . .” He shook his head.
“I know.”
Their gazes locked. It wasn’t often she heard people talk about the stress. Men almost never did.
“I just sent you an email,” she said. “We ID’d one of our Jane Does from the park.”
His expression perked up. “Who is she?”
“Teresa Marin. Turns out she’s from Abilene.”
“How’d you find her?”
“Basically, wading through missing-persons cases from the last two years. Her physical description was consistent, so I ran it down. She disappeared two summers ago. She was estranged from her family, so it took a while for her to be reported. When she missed paying her rent, her landlord tracked down a relative, and her family ended up filing a report.”
Dax nodded. “ID?”
“Her sister recognized a gold pendant found with the body. We confirmed through dental records.”
“Good work.”
“Thanks.”
He held her gaze, and the moment stretched out. “You parked out here?” He looked over her shoulder. “I’ll walk you.”
They started toward the parking lot, and Talia tried to think of something to say. She came up empty, and soon they reached her car. She fished her keys from her purse. She had no more excuses to linger with him. Or even see him again.
“Thanks for your work,” Dax said.
“No problem.”
“I mean it. Without your help, Grace might never have made it home.”
Talia nodded. He was right, and it was the one thing to feel good about in this whole disturbing case.
She popped her car locks and opened the door. “Well. Take care.”
“You too.” He stepped back. “And if you get up to Austin, call me.”
“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“We could go get a drink together. Or listen to some blues somewhere.” He smiled, and she felt it down to her toes. She’d told him she liked blues music, and he’d been listening. And he wanted her to know he’d been listening.
Talia smiled up at him. “I’d like that.”
CHAPTER 30
S
ara woke with a start as her front door swung open. She felt a spurt of panic, but the familiar sound of Nolan’s boots against the floor made her relax.
She glanced at the clock. It was one fifteen. She listened to Nolan’s footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen, where she’d left a light on. She heard the swoosh of his jacket landing on the armchair and then his gear hitting the bar: keys, holster, handcuffs.
More footsteps, and then the bed sank with a creak. One by one, his boots hit the floor, and then he stretched out behind her and hooked his arm over her waist as he kissed her neck.
“Umm. Hi.” She rolled over to look at him. The light from the kitchen cast shadows across his face.
“Sorry I’m late.” He kissed her. “Liquor-store hold-up.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, but not for food.” He dipped his head down and nibbled her neck.
“Seriously, I can heat something up for you.”
He smiled.
“Food, Nolan.”
Another kiss. “I’m good.”
She searched his eyes and noticed the tension. “What’s wrong? Were there fatalities?”
He propped himself up on his elbow. “Nothing like that.”
Dread tightened her stomach as she looked at him.
He brushed a lock of hair from her face. “Hank is retiring.”
“Oh.” She tried to clear the haze of sleep so she could think about the implications.
“The mayor wants to appoint me acting chief. And he’s recommending me to the city council as the permanent replacement.”
Sara sat up. The sheet slipped down around her waist, and Nolan’s gaze went to her skimpy black nightgown as she scooted back against the headboard.
“Damn, now I’m really sorry I’m late.” He leaned in for a kiss, but she held him off.
“Nolan, that’s great. What did you tell him?”
He eased back. “Nothing.”
“What do you mean? You had to tell him something.”
He looked at her evenly. “I told him I needed to think about it.”
Sara watched him, trying to read his thoughts. Her heart was racing now, and she wondered if he was worried about the same thing she was.
It was the fifth night this week he’d shown up at her apartment after midnight. In the three weeks since Gaines’s arrest, they’d spent every single day shuttling back and forth between houses—mostly sleeping at her place, meaning that Nolan dealt with four hours of driving, which cut into his sleep and his time off. Sara traced her fingers over his hand, wishing things were different. He’d just gotten here, and he’d have to be up and gone again in a few hours.
They couldn’t keep this up if he became chief of police. But just the thought of limiting their relationship to weekends or—God forbid—ending it felt like a knife in her chest.
“I’ve been thinking.” Nolan cleared his throat, and she braced herself for more news she wasn’t going to like. “We’d have more time together if we lived in the same place. Yeah, we’d still work long hours, but at least we’d see each other coming and going.”
“You mean move in together.”
He nodded.
“Where would we live? Your place, I assume?”
He tipped his head to the side. “It’s possible. I mean, when you get callouts, the person’s already dead, right? They’ve been dead a while. It’s not as time-sensitive as, say, a robbery in progress.”
Sara’s nerves started up again, and she had a flashback to how she’d felt with Patrick, when he used to make everything revolve around him. His career, his schedule, his life plan.
“So I should move,” she stated, trying to keep the tightness out of her voice.
“I was thinking I should.”
“But . . . if you’re going to be chief, you need to be there. In Springville.”
“Hear me out.” He squeezed her hand. “I do need to be near my jurisdiction. But right now, I’m living on the far west side of town. If I moved to the far east side, I’d be the same distance from the police station but half an hour closer to San Marcos. We’d still have a drive to deal with, but it wouldn’t be as bad.”
“You mean you’d get a new place?”
“We could get a place.” He kissed her knuckles. “Something we choose together.”
She stared at him. “But that’s your grandparents’ house, Nolan.”
“So?”
“So . . .” She shook her head. “How would this work? I want to hear your hypothesis.”
He smiled. “Always the scientist.”
“Yes. Explain to me the logic of you selling your family home to shack up with a woman you haven’t even known very long.”
“Well, for starters, I don’t think of it as ‘shacking up.’ Fact, I’m pretty old-fashioned, so I’d prefer to have a commitment first.” He paused, searching her reaction, and Sara was pretty sure her shock was written all over her face. “But if you want a trial run, I’m open to that, too.”
Her mind was reeling. A commitment, as in an engagement?
“Uh-oh.” Nolan frowned. “You look worried.”
“I’m just— I’ve never lived with anyone.”
“Same.”
This was news to Sara. And the fact that she didn’t know this little tidbit about his life just showed how crazy it was to be talking about moving in together so soon.
“But you love that place. You know your neighbors. And that house has been in your family for generations.”
He shrugged. “A house is just a building. It’s the people in it that matter. I can move closer to where you work.”
“You’d do that for me?”
His look turned serious. “I’d do anything for you.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in. As they did, warmth spread through her entire body. That giddy, euphoric feeling that had been sneaking up on her for weeks now was back, but stronger.
“Nolan, I think—” Her throat felt tight, and it was hard to speak.
“What?”
“I love you.”
He laughed and rested his head on her shoulder.
“What’s so funny?”
He smiled up at her. “You’re just now figuring this out? I figured it out weeks ago.”
She frowned. “That I’ve fallen in love with you or vice versa?”
“Both.” He scooted closer on the bed and cupped the side of her face as he kissed her. “I love you, Sara. I want to be with you. I don’t give a damn where we live, and if you want to stay here in this loft, I’ll turn down the chief’s job and stick to being a detective if that means this can work between us.”
Tears filled her eyes as she watched him. She didn’t want him to turn down anything, but his willingness to make sacrifices for her overwhelmed her.
“I want to go to sleep with you. And wake up with you.” He brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder. “Even if it’s at oh-dark-hundred when one of us gets called to a crime scene and has to leave.”
She kissed him, and that was all the encouragement he needed to wrap his arm around her and drag her down on the bed to ease himself on top of her. He kissed her long and deeply, putting all the emotions swirling inside of her into a perfect kiss. He pulled back and propped his weight on his elbows.
Sara gazed up at his deep brown eyes that could so quickly go from sharp to passionate to loving. She traced her finger over his jaw.
“So, you really want to move in together?” she asked.
“That’s just the start of what I want, but yeah.” He stroked her cheek. “What do you want?”
“I want that, too.” More of that giddy warmth rippled through her. It seemed impossible. They hadn’t known each other that long. So much had happened so fast, and her mind was spinning.
Her heart was spinning, too.
“This is crazy,” she said. “What are we doing?”
His smile faded, and his eyes grew somber. “I don’t know, but it feels right. I know my mind,
my heart. And this feels right.”
She smiled up at him. “Feels right to me, too.”
More from this Series
Untraceable
Book 1
Unspeakable
Book 2
Unforgivable
Book 3
Snapped
Book 4
More from the Author
Her Deadly Secrets
Desperate Girls
Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next sizzling stand-alone thriller from Laura Griffin
HER DEADLY SECRETS
Available in July 2019 from Gallery Books
CHAPTER ONE
Kira Vance gripped the steering wheel and navigated the slick streets. The summer downpour had come out of nowhere, catching her off guard. She’d wanted to make a good impression, and now she was going to arrive not just late but soaking wet in a white T-shirt that was nearly transparent.
Water dripped onto her shoulder as she reached a stoplight, and she glared up at her leaky sunroof. There was no denying it—she needed a new car. Her little Celica had six-digit mileage and a bad transmission, but she refused to trade it in. She couldn’t afford an upgrade and the car had been with her through so many ups and downs, she was sentimental about it.
The phone chimed in the seat beside her, but she ignored it because it was Ollie, her shrewd, rude, and sometimes infuriating boss. She didn’t want to talk to him on the phone. She needed a face-to-face.
As Kira skidded away from the intersection, her car’s engine warning flashed on.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
She’d just had it in for an oil change, and the guy had said he’d checked everything.
But people lied. Often. If they didn’t, she’d be out of a job.
Kira’s work was a search for the truth—the good, the bad, and the ugly. She dug up the facts and let the lawyers deal with them in court. Or not. Sometimes her discoveries meant a witness wouldn’t be called to testify. Or the defense developed a new strategy. Sometimes her discoveries poked big fat holes in the case of a zealous prosecutor.
The truth cut both ways, and that’s what she liked about it, and finding that truth gave her a heady rush that made up for the downsides of PI work, such as dealing with cheating spouses and deadbeat dads and insurance scams. Those were the cases that made her pissed off and cynical.
Stone Cold Heart Page 28