Buried Lies

by Kaylea Cross

  Noah hated to let go of her but he set her gently down on the gurney. Poppy immediately curled into a ball, her eyes still tightly shut.

  Feeling helpless, he tucked the blanket around her more securely and stroked her hair as the paramedics took over. She didn’t answer them at all.

  One of them met Noah’s gaze. “We’ve gotta take her in right away.”

  Nodding, Noah steeled himself and took a step back, watching as they secured Poppy and lifted the gurney into the back of the ambulance.

  Beckett stepped up and set a hand on Noah’s shoulder. “You’re going with her?”

  Noah nodded and handed him the keys to his cruiser. “Will you drive it over for me?”

  “Of course. Jase and I’ll meet you there.” He squeezed once before walking away.

  Noah climbed into the back beside the gurney and dug Poppy’s arm from inside the folds of the blanket. Her skin was cold and clammy, her hands shredded so bad the sight of them filled his throat with the burning pressure of unshed tears.

  Then her face spasmed and her lips moved. Trying to speak.

  Noah bent down, squeezing her arm gently. “What, sweetheart?”

  “I was…his s-sixth,” she whispered hoarsely, so soft he could barely hear her.

  “Sixth?”

  “His s-sixth f-flower.”

  Cold punched through him at her words. There had been a flower on top of her burial site. A poppy.

  The fucker had planted a poppy on it to commemorate her.

  Noah whipped his head around to stare out at the hellish garden. He counted five other mounds just before the ambulance doors swung shut, each with a different kind of flower planted in its center.

  Meaning all five remaining flowers marked the other missing women’s graves.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Noah sat up straighter in the chair and rolled his head from side to side in a futile effort to ease the tension in his neck and shoulders. It was full dark now.

  They’d been at the hospital for more than fourteen hours and he was exhausted. Sierra, Jase and Beckett had all come by to spell him off while he dealt with necessary things about the ongoing investigation. For the most part, he’d refused to leave the premises.

  A few feet away, Poppy lay fast asleep in the hospital bed, but it wasn’t a normal, peaceful sleep. She’d been so deep in shock and so afraid that they’d sedated her to help her rest. Noah still wasn’t sure if she’d been aware of him with her the whole time.

  Everything about this broke his heart.

  Not only had she been severely psychologically traumatized, she’d also been dehydrated and needed a few dozen stitches in her hands. They were all bandaged up. She’d also showed signs of a fever and infection so they had given her antibiotics in her drip.

  He turned at a light tap on the door. Molly walked in, her shoes quiet on the linoleum floor. She was dressed in jeans and a top rather than scrubs. “What are you doing here?” he whispered, getting up to hug her.

  “Came to check on our patient. How’s she doing?” she whispered back.

  “Same. Hasn’t woken up since they put the meds in her line after lunch.”

  Molly made a sympathetic sound and looked at Poppy. “I just can’t even imagine what she went through.”

  “I know. It’s killing me to think about it.”

  Molly leaned her head on his shoulder. “But you saved her. You got her out. Focus on that part.”

  He couldn’t. Because he still felt like he’d failed her. “I missed all the signs. They were all right there in front of me and I didn’t see any of them.” Just like before, with Tom. “I didn’t think anything of Paul suddenly hanging around Poppy’s place.” The bastard had been too damn good at disguising the evil inside him.

  “He fooled everyone, not just you.” She shook her head, her springy curls bouncing slightly. “You must be tired.”

  Tired didn’t begin to cover it. This was a whole new level of exhaustion. “I’m okay.”

  “Do you need to go into the station? I’ll sit with her for a while if you do.”

  “Thanks, but I want to be here whenever she wakes up. I’m getting updates whenever they happen. It’s the FBI’s case now. Unless something critical comes up, I’m staying put.”

  “I understand. I’m glad she’s got you.”

  Noah hugged her into his side. “What about you? How are you holding up?”

  “I’m trying to stay busy. I don’t want to be at home. Beckett, Jase and Aidan moved a bunch of my stuff over to the rental house this afternoon but I don’t feel like going there either. Sierra and Beckett are letting me stay with them for a couple more days.” She paused, put a hand over her abdomen. “I’m having trouble accepting that he’s gone. And that this baby will never know him.”

  “I know.” He sighed. “I’m sure Beckett and Sierra are glad to have you. And if I can do anything, just let me know.”

  Molly looked up at him with a brave smile, heartache clear in her eyes. “Just take care of Poppy. That’s what you can do for me.”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Molly checked Poppy’s IV and made sure she was positioned comfortably before leaving.

  Noah went back to his “pullout” chair that he was about two feet too tall for, and laid his head back. What he wanted most was to lie down beside her and keep her close to him but he didn’t want her to wake up and panic.

  He didn’t know what to do to help her now and the lack of a plan was driving him crazy. He’d called his parents to tell them what had happened. They’d offered to come out but Noah didn’t want them here until Poppy was ready to meet them.

  Folding his arms across his chest he closed his eyes and managed to doze off. His eyes flew open sometime later in the darkness. Poppy stirred, made a soft sound of distress.

  Noah was next to her in a heartbeat, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Hey.”

  There was just enough dim lighting in the room for him to see her eyes open and focus on him. He held his breath, dreading the moment when she looked right through him as she had before.

  “It’s Noah,” he murmured when she didn’t say anything, smoothing her hair back from her forehead.

  She stared at him for so long that his heart sank. “I don’t like hospitals.” Her voice was sleepy, hoarse.

  Because she’d strained her vocal cords from screaming while trapped underground.

  He shook the horrifying thought aside, put on a reassuring smile. “You were dehydrated. They’ve been giving you fluids and medicine to help you feel better.”

  She tried to sit up, her elevated breathing telling him her anxiety was increasing. “Where’s the light switch? It’s too dark. Please, turn on the light,” she begged, an edge of panic in her voice.

  I’m afraid of the dark.

  When she’d told him about her childhood fear he’d never imagined she would be confronted with it in such a brutal and horrifying way.

  “Okay, watch your eyes,” he said, reaching past her head to push the light switch. A low-watt reading light came on.

  Poppy let out a shuddering breath and looked around the room, then at her hands. “They’re sore.”

  “Yes. You’ve got a lot of stitches under there.” He’d watched the staff pull countless splinters out of her raw wounds prior to stitching them up. She’d mangled her fingers and nail beds trying to claw through the lid of that fucking coffin. The pain must have been excruciating, but she’d kept going. Desperate to get free.

  It hurt too much to think about.

  “I want to sit up,” she said, rolling slightly to look for the button.

  “I’ve got it.” He hit the button on the side of her bed. “Are you thirsty? You’ve got some water right here. Or I can call a nurse and get you something to eat. You must be hungry.”

  She shook her head and met his gaze, her eyes full of shadows and horrors he couldn’t even imagine. “Did they arrest Paul?”

  The question threw h
im for a second. He hadn’t been prepared to talk about this with her yet. Had assumed they would ease into it after a day or so once she came around. “Yes,” he said, easing one hip onto the edge of the mattress beside hers. He wanted to hold her so fucking badly. Had been dying to while he’d watched her sleep. “I found him and arrested him.” He left out the rest of the details. She was under enough strain and would find out everything soon enough anyway.

  Worried brown eyes stared up at him. “Am I going to have to see him?”

  “Not for a long time.” But if this went to trial, as the sole survivor, Poppy would be the prosecution’s key witness.

  “What about the others? Have they found the others?”

  Noah hesitated a moment before answering. “The FBI is working on that right now.” They had a huge team at the property, recording everything prior to starting their excavations. The case was huge and already all over all the major news networks. The media had dubbed the psycho The Secret Gardener.

  Poppy exhaled, swallowed. “When can I get out of here?”

  “Maybe in the morning. The doctors want you to rest tonight, and make sure you’re feeling okay first.” Physically she was going to be fine. Mentally and emotionally was another story.

  A renowned psychiatrist was coming to see her first thing to do an assessment. There was no way she wouldn’t be traumatized by what she’d been through. Noah’s skin crawled at the thought of what it must have been like to be trapped underground and know she was going to die there. Fury burned beneath his skin, a deep, aching sadness lodged in his chest.

  Taking him by surprise, Poppy sat up and reached for him.

  Noah immediately gathered her to his chest, his heart twisting at the way she huddled against him, her cheek pressed to his shoulder. “This can’t be comfortable for you,” he said, shifting them.

  She made a mewling sound and shook her head, her eyes tightly closed as she clung to him, her bandaged hands resting on his chest. “Don’t let go.”

  Noah closed his eyes as bittersweet pain stabbed him. He hugged her tighter, wishing he could take the trauma and fear away. “I won’t.” The arm rail dug into his ribs as he leaned over it. “Just let me get you in a better position.”

  She stayed pressed to him while he lowered the arm rail, then swiveled around to recline on his side on the narrow bed. He tucked her into his body, careful not to pull on her IV line. Everything’s okay now. You’re going to be okay.

  He bit the words back. Because he didn’t know if everything was going to be okay and he wouldn’t make light of what she’d gone through.

  Poppy’s body was stiff in his embrace at first. Noah stroked her hair and back, let the quiet surround them while they soaked up the comfort from each other.

  Slowly her muscles relaxed and her breathing evened out. “Noah?” she whispered at last.

  “Hmm?”

  “I want to go home. To your house.”

  He tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll take you there as soon as I can. I promise.”

  ****

  He kept his promise.

  As soon as the discharge papers were signed and a nurse unhooked Poppy’s IV, Noah had taken her straight down to his cruiser, avoiding all the media people camped around the hospital, and driven her to his place.

  She was silent as she stared out at the passing scenery from the front passenger seat of Noah’s cruiser. It was another glorious summer day, the sun high in the sky, sparkling on the sea as they drove up Front Street. Whale’s Tale was busy. A few more media trucks were parked out front. Poppy could see customers filling the outdoor tables, and it looked like there was a lineup at the counter as well.

  She couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Her morning had been filled with doctors and FBI investigators. She had appointments scheduled for interviews this week, as well as sessions with a counselor and a shrink.

  She was tired to her soul. Vacillating between a state of numbness and disbelief, her mind having trouble coming to grips with what had happened to her. It felt surreal to be here with Noah now, watching the buildings and scenery pass by. She’d taken it all for granted before. Now she was sure she would never look at anything the same again.

  “Sierra dropped off some food for us,” Noah said as he turned off Front Street and headed away from the ocean. Tall evergreens towered over the road, encasing it in shadows. She would never take their beauty for granted again. “You hungry?”

  “A little.” Mostly she just wanted to be alone with him in a place she felt safe. He made her feel safe. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was with her.

  She glanced over at him. He was such a gorgeous man, the thick beard stubble on his face intensifying his masculine beauty. He’d been a rock for her so far, rarely leaving her side. She wanted to touch him, craved the contact, but her hands were still thickly bandaged.

  There were things she didn’t remember about the rescue. It had been Noah who had pulled her from her grave. Noah who had dug until his hands were raw, and insisted he be the one harnessed up to be lowered down to pull her out. He’d stayed with her in the ambulance and kept vigil over her in the hospital.

  Out of nowhere, tears flooded her eyes and her throat closed up. If he hadn’t found her, she would still be trapped in her grave.

  If he hadn’t found her, she would have died.

  “Thank God for you, Noah,” she choked out.

  He darted an alarmed look at her.

  She tried to pull it together but the emotion swamping her was too much. “I literally owe you my life.”

  “No you don’t. I—”

  “You pulled me out of there.” The words kept pouring out, unstoppable even as she swiped tears away with her bandaged hands. “You’ve been there for me since I came here. Through everything. You’re the one I thought about when he buried me.”

  It was hard to say the words but she needed him to understand. To know what he meant to her, even if she sounded crazy. “I couldn’t deal with knowing I was trapped and going to die in there. Couldn’t mentally handle it. So I went somewhere else in my mind. It was the only way I could escape it. And I thought of you. You helped me hold on.”

  Noah’s jaw tightened and his throat moved as he swallowed. He was silent a moment, staring straight ahead, then he abruptly pulled the cruiser over to the side of the road.

  Throwing it in park, he undid his seatbelt and leaned over to reach for her. “Come here,” he said, his voice husky.

  Poppy sniffed, her shoulders hitching as his strong, warm arms came around her. She looped hers around his neck and hung on, savoring his scent, every point of contact between them. This was real. He was real. She was alive and he was holding her.

  “I felt so goddamn helpless,” he said in a rough voice, his mouth right next to her ear. “And when I realized you were under the ground like that, I—” He drew a deep, steadying breath. “I should have stopped it. I would have done anything to stop it and protect you, and I couldn’t.”

  The pain in his voice sliced her up inside. She’d been so caught up in her own ordeal and trying to cope with it all, she hadn’t stopped to consider how this had affected him. What it had been like to not know where she was. And then to learn she was buried underground.

  She stroked one bandaged hand over the back of his head, aching to comfort him. “I know. Shh, it’s not your fault. And I’m okay now. You saved me.”

  “Christ,” he whispered, shoving his face into her neck. “Every time I think about what you went through, I…” He shook his head, hugged her harder. “I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry, and I swear I’m gonna do everything to help you get through this.”

  Tears dripped down her face when she squeezed her eyes shut. “I know. And I’ll help you. We’ll help each other through it.”

  They held onto each other for long minutes, with only the quiet hum of the engine in the background. Her tears faded, a sense of relief washi
ng over her.

  Finally Noah drew back to search her face. He wiped away the traces of her tears with his fingertips, then bent to kiss her softly. “I’m ready to be home.”

  “Me too.”

  She didn’t know what she’d done in her life to deserve a man like Noah Buchanan, but she was damn sure holding on to him with everything she had.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Noah sensed he was alone even before he came fully awake.

  Opening his eyes in the dimness of his bedroom, he turned onto his side, already knowing what he’d find. The other side was empty, the pillow bearing the mark from Poppy’s head.

  He sat up, glancing at the clock and sat listening. It was two in the morning. The house was silent. There was no light coming from under the en suite door. So she wasn’t in the shower as she so often was when he woke up alone in the middle of the night. Four times since the day he’d brought her here he’d woken when she’d gasped and jackknifed up in bed, hands curled into claws as though ready to scratch and fight.

  Shaken, bathed in a cold sweat, Poppy would gasp for breath, her heart pounding so violently that she shook. She would reach for him initially, let him hold her for a few minutes, but once she had her breath back, she always pushed away and retreated into the bathroom alone to shower.

  Every instinct he had demanded that he go after her, but he’d forcibly reined in his protectiveness and let her have the time she needed to deal with the nightmares, waiting until she crawled back into bed with him before pulling her into his arms for the rest of the night.

  Tonight was different.

  The night light in the corner was out. Poppy must have turned it off on her way out, because she knew the darkness helped him sleep better. The gesture touched him but he would happily sleep with all the lights in the fucking house on for the rest of her life if it helped make her feel safe.

  She’d been with him here for nine days now, and most of it had been a blur. He’d gone with her to all the interviews. Sat with her through her counseling sessions and her appointments with her psychiatrist, because she’d asked him to. Hearing her talk about her experience was hard.