by Vella Day
Jenna was the last person Sam expected to show up at the lab, especially after Phil had basically booted her out. He had no idea how she’d made it past security, unless Phil had left her name with the guard. It was one more thing to investigate.
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” she said, half out of breath. “When I called the Center to speak with you, they patched me through to your boss.” As she breezed by him, her floral scent tightened his groin. “He said I was welcome to stop by anytime.”
The matchmaker would hear about this. Only Chance knew about what happened with Sam’s wife and why he didn’t want or need another relationship.
Jenna leaned over the pile of bones on the gurney, her hands clasped behind her back. He didn’t have time to socialize, and he certainly didn’t have time to think about her or her scent. “I hope you don’t mind if I work while you look around. I have a lot to do.” He thought that came off well—welcoming, but not inviting. A non-scientist would become bored in less than five minutes. She’d be saying goodbye in no time.
Jenna frowned and nervously ran her finger through her hair. Damn. He hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but he wasn’t convinced he’d proven himself to Phil yet, and time was of the essence. Alienating her wasn’t his goal either. Jenna might be able to help with what went on in Botanica’s back room.
“No problem.” She strutted over to the computers. “What’s this?”
The superimposed X-ray over one of the skulls gleamed a bright blue. “I was trying to match some dental X-rays to the skull in the cauldron.”
“Cauldron?”
“The pink shrink wrapped item you saw the other day when you were here.”
“Oh.” She bent over the computer screen. “Those two look like they match.”
Apparently the fact the cauldron contained a skull didn’t seem odd. He supposed it made sense since she worked in the business. He walked over to where she stood. “I thought so at first too.” He tapped the screen. “See how the teeth don’t line up precisely.”
“Yes.”
“Means those two are the wrong people.”
When she continued to study what was on the screen, he moved back to the gurney and slid his magnifying glass over the cranium.
“Now, what are you looking for?” He almost jumped. He hadn’t noticed she’d stepped close. Too close in fact.
“I’m trying to identify the victim’s age.”
She eased back to give him room. “How can you tell that from just a skull?”
He debated suggesting he explain at a later date, but since she seemed so interested, he didn’t want to extinguish her enthusiasm. The teacher in him had kicked in. “See these cracks in the skull?” She nodded. “The smoother they are, the older the person. This one is no teenager.”
Jenna leaned back as if someone had pushed her. “Male or female?”
“I can’t tell yet.” The color in her face had gone from slightly pink to death white. “Are you okay?”
She looked up and he could have sworn her eyes were watering. “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Do you want to sit?” He nodded to the stool.
Her smile faltered. “No, I’m good.” She pointed to another skullcap. “And this one?”
She might sound fine, but her clenched fists told him otherwise. “This person was late twenties to early thirties.”
Jenna’s brows pinched together as if she were trying to do a complex mathematical formula in her head. “I can’t imagine the connection between those two. How did they end up in the same melting pot, so to speak?”
He had to hand it to her. She was clever. “I have no idea, nor is it my job to figure that out. I’m just here to find the identity of the people.”
“Any evidence of trauma?”
Her question surprised him. Even taking into account all the CSI shows, Jenna’s deathly serious tone set off an internal alarm.
“On the older one, yes.”
Sam’s stomach let out a loud grumble. Jenna grabbed his arm and tugged, as if the previous conversation had never existed. “I’m famished too. What do you say we get something to eat?”
“You go ahead. I’ve got work to do.”
She leaned closer and poked his arm. Her large, brown eyes searched his face. She was such a tiny thing, and her clean scent raced to his groin. Stupid body.
“You are human. Right? You have to eat sometime.”
Before he answered, a series of beeps, indicating someone was entering his lab, interrupted them.
Jenna’s eyes widened and her mouth half opened. “Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I should go and let you do your thing.”
Carla Pendowski, the computer guru never made a lab visit—at least not to his lab, but he was glad she’d chosen that moment to enter. The tech glanced over at Jenna. “Hi, I’m Carla.”
“Jenna Richman.”
Carla turned toward Sam, winked, and held out an envelope. “I have a letter addressed to you. It looked important so I brought it right over.”
He looked at Jenna. “Give me a sec, and I’ll walk you out.” Though if she got in through the security doors without his help, she probably could get out. He took the #10 envelope with his name typed in large bold letters, set it down, and pulled off his gloves. There was no return address or stamp. “Who’s it from?”
“What do I look like? A snoop? I didn’t open it.” She shot Jenna a conspiratorial smirk. He figured woman did that kind of thing. What did he know?
He ripped open the short end and emptied the contents on the counter. A tri-fold letter fell out. When he reached out to pick it up, Jenna stopped him.
“Maybe you should use gloves.”
Who was this woman? “Why? Do you think the envelope is tainted with anthrax or something?” He chuckled, but she didn’t return the smile.
“Well, it’s been done before.” If only she knew how much he respected her insight, she wouldn’t have acted insulted.
Carla planted a hand on her hip, her brows raised. “Ever hear of fingerprints?”
Sam shook his head and smiled. “You women. Why must you think in such sinister terms?” Both of the women’s eyes widened. He must have overreacted. Being near Jenna made him lose his tight reign on logic.
“You don’t know where the envelope has been,” Carla chimed in.
“Fine, but how do you know it’s not from a female admirer?”
Carla chuckled. “I haven’t seen you glance at a female since you’ve worked here. Until now, I hear.”
God. He didn’t need Jenna thinking she was the exception to the rule. “You girls win.” Sam pulled on a clean pair of latex gloves and picked up the letter. He read the short message, not quite understanding why anyone would have sent it to him—or what it meant.
As Jenna peeked over his arm. “Who’s it from?” she asked in a sultry whisper.
“I have no idea.”
“Read it out loud.”
He cleared his throat. “Beware the bones you seek to identify. I will curse you if you disturb their souls.” He tossed the letter on the table. “That’s dumb.”
Silence passed between Carla and Jenna until a small sound eked out of Carla’s mouth.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Her eyes glistened. “It’s a curse. You should put the bones back into the cauldron and tell Phil you refuse to work on the case.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “You believe in that black magic stuff? This is a joke. I wouldn’t be surprised if Phil sent this because I have the cauldron.”
“I don’t think so.” Carla wrapped her arms around her waist, and her large, gaudy ring caught in the mesh of her shawl. She tried to pull it out, but that seemed to make things worse.
Jenna shot over to Carla. “Stand still. I’ll help.”
As Jenna freed her, a tear dripped down Carla’s cheek.
“Carla, did something happen to make you fear spells?” he asked. There was more to the story than some witch’s spell.
> She spun around and punched the door open button. “I can’t talk about it.” She ran down the hall.
Had Jenna not been with him, he would have followed her. Perhaps Gina could offer some insights on Carla’s odd behavior. The women in the lab seemed to stick together.
When Sam turned back to Jenna, he caught her reading the note he’d left on the counter. Fortunately, she had the sense not to touch the paper with her bare hands. She too was acting as if this threat was for real.
She glanced up. “Could you make a copy of this? I have a friend who might be able to help with the meaning?”
“Not a problem, but I don’t believe I’m in harm’s way.”
“Think about it. You receive a cauldron full of bones. How many people were even aware you’re working on this case?”
“Besides you?”
She opened her mouth, and then shut it. “Yes, besides me.”
“The Tampa Police Department. They recovered the cauldron. And Phil, my boss, who assigned me to the case, along with his assistant, Gina.”
“How about the owner of the cauldron? Where did the police find these bones?”
“In a storage shed on Dale Mabry, why?”
“Do you know for sure the owner didn’t see the police take possession of the cauldron? Or follow the cops to this facility?”
He liked her sharp mind. Sam didn’t think like a criminal, but Jenna apparently did.
She ran her fingers through her hair. From the softening of her face, the silky texture gave her pleasure. His mind jumped to doing the same thing until she dropped her hands.
“It’s worth looking into, but how did they know I was the one with the cauldron. I’m not the only forensic anthropologist at HOPEFAL.”
Jenna’s right shoulder jutted forward. “Do you know if the police checked the logs for who entered the storage area last?”
“How should I know? I just analyze bones. I’m not a detective, nor do I interface with the cops. That’s Phil’s job.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can lower your shields, Scottie.”
Okay, so she nailed him. It just wasn’t a topic he wanted to discuss. Bottom line, the cops had failed his wife, and he didn’t trust them.
She snapped her fingers. “Could someone here at the lab have leaked the information?”
He stared at her wide-eyed, innocent face. To his knowledge, no outsider other than Jenna had been in his lab. Could she be the leak? “I wouldn’t know.” But he sure as hell would find out.
8
“You tossed her out?” Phil set his Coke can on the desk and frowned.
“Damn right I did.” Sam tucked his thumbs in the pockets of his lab coat as he paced Phil’s office. “You tell me how someone other than the police and you knew I had the cauldron. Jenna was the only one in and out of the lab who wasn’t an employee. She had to have mentioned it. Remember she works at an occult store. Perhaps she recognized the cauldron and is here to find out what we know.”
Phil appeared to ponder his comment. “A student could have seen the cops drag in a pink shrink wrapped pot.”
“Even if someone had noticed the cauldron being delivered, a casual passerby wouldn’t put a curse on me, and a casual passerby wouldn’t know I’d be the one assigned to check out the cauldron.” Sam couldn’t stop pacing.
“Do you have any proof of Jenna’s involvement?”
Before Sam could come up with a good response, Gina breezed in. “Dinner.”
Phil’s face brightened. “Thanks.” He took the plate of meats and fruits and placed it on his lap. The tempting aroma reminded Sam he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
Gina stood behind Phil. The two looked like a solid team, but they couldn’t have been more different. Phil had on his pale blue buttoned down shirt with the HOPEFAL logo and beige slacks that blended in with pasty white skin. Gina wore skin-tight black pants and a low cut red top that contrasted well with her ebony skin.
Sam still hadn’t figured out their relationship. He’d heard Gina’s dad had been Phil’s captain when he worked at the sheriff’s department, and Gina had confided in Sam that she’d been a history teacher before deciding she wanted to be a cop. After Phil was shot apprehending a killer, she gave up her aspirations to go into law enforcement and agreed to help Phil run this lab.
Phil looked up at Gina and smiled, and a small surge of envy surfaced at their tight relationship. He thought he and Tammy had been tight too, until she turned on him with no apparent remorse. He’d been used, plain and simple.
“I hear you have a new girlfriend,” Gina said.
Not again. “Hardly a girlfriend, or even a friend. I think she’s a plant, though I don’t know her agenda.”
Her brows creased. “What happened?” Gina stepped from behind Phil and perched a hip on the edge of Phil’s desk, showing off a long, lean leg.
“Ask Phil, who hopefully will find out what he can about this chick. She’s dangerous.”
Sam knew his response was rude, but he wasn’t very rational when it came to women.
Carla leaned over the bathroom sink and wiped her mouth with a rough paper towel. She’d vomited every day for the last week and knew why after last night’s test. She grabbed her stomach. The bastard who’d raped had gotten her pregnant. While having a child was a dream come true, she didn’t want to have a baby under these circumstances. She was single, only twenty-three, and had dreamed of falling in love with Mr. Right.
Her parents had drilled into her that Catholics didn’t get abortions. To make matters worse, her attacker had been black. That alone would kill her folks when or if they ever found out. Her older sister went missing six months ago, and Carla doubted they could handle any more grief.
She’d have to keep her problem from them until after the baby was born, and then give the child up for adoption. She sniffled and swiped a tissue across her nose. Enough. Suck it up, Carla. What’s past is past.
She peered into the mirror to see if any telltale sign of her vomit episode showed. Other than her red eyes, she appeared normal—well as normal as she could be. Once she redid her ponytail, she headed out of the bathroom.
As she turned right to head back to her office, she bumped into a wall of a man. He grabbed her upper arms, probably to steady her, but the restriction caused a need-to-flee so strong her heart nearly jumped out of her chest. She pushed away from her attacker and nearly tumbled on her butt. Somehow, the man managed to catch her before she hit the floor.
“Excuse me,” the mystery man said in an unexpectedly soothing voice. His tone didn’t sound anything like the man who’d attacked her, nor was he an African American, but that didn’t matter. Her distrust of men had hit a high a few months ago.
He searched her face. “Are you okay?”
Carla took a deep breath. “I think so.” Stupid. All men weren’t bad, just the one who’d violated her.
“You look pale,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your office.”
Carla couldn’t remember the last time anyone had bothered to help her. Most people called her four eyes, geeky, or gawky. She couldn’t help it if she was good at math and computer science.
“Sure. Okay.” She didn’t need help finding her way down the hall, but she’d been stupid to turn down his offer. He was a hunk with a capital H. “My office is the last one on the right.”
He walked close beside her, acting as though she might stumble at any moment. They stopped at the office entrance, and she turned to face him. It was almost like a date. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Her door nameplate was glued next to the door. “Carla Pendowski.”
“That’s me.” She smiled and waited for him to say something inappropriate about her nationality since she’d spent her childhood being the butt of Polish jokes.
Instead, he smiled back. “Chance Tavares. Nice to meet you.”
“Chance. What a wonderful name.” Maybe she’d get lucky. Ha. Ha. Not going to happen.
For a
moment, he almost looked uncomfortable. They shook hands, hands that were warm with slightly callused palms and strong fingers. He was definitely all male.
Before Carla could come up with something pithy to say, the tall stud placed a hand on the small of her back, and she nearly swooned from the intimate contact. It must be the dehydration or the ranging hormones that were affecting her equilibrium.
He led her over to her desk and pulled out her chair. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine.” While she wanted to say something smart sounding, her mind came up blanker than a zero megabit file. “So what brings you here to the lab?” Oh, that was exciting.
“I just started working here with Dr. Eric Markowitz.”
“You’re working for Eric, huh. I’m sorry.”
He laughed, and then pulled up a chair. “Why do you say that?” He winked. “Give me some dirt.”
Her heart beat faster. Why was he bothering with her? He was so cute. “He’s a stickler about everything.”
“Cool. He’ll help make me be a better pathologist.”
What a great attitude. Carla wanted to tell him he had the most beautiful dark brown eyes, but she wasn’t good talking to drop dead gorgeous men—especially ones with fit bodies. She wished her body didn’t have all those bumps and lumps, but that’s what she deserved from sitting at a computer all day.
Feet pounded outside her office and Sam rushed in. Chance jumped up. “What’s wrong, Sam?”
“Carla, who gave you the letter?”
“I told you I saw it on the front desk. Harold was somewhere else, so I picked it up. Why?” Surely he wasn’t freaked out over the note now.
“I went out to the parking lot to retrieve something from my car, and I found my car windshield broken.”
She gasped. “It’s the curse.”
Carla and Chance rushed after Sam as he sped outside. Both acted as though he might punch out someone—and he’d been tempted. Actually, he’d been more tempted to yell at Harold for leaving his station.
Two cops were stationed next to his car, filling out paperwork. Fixing the windshield would put a strain on his already tight budget, and he needed his car in case Mrs. Delansky had a doctor’s appointment or required her prescription to be refilled.
