by Vella Day
“Call me wimp, a goody-two-shoes, or whatever, but I could never live with myself if I lie to Phil about breaking into the store. While I was waiting for the blood analysis, I called a cop friend of mine and asked him about the legalities of obtaining a search warrant if we attained the evidence illegally.”
He had to be kidding. “And?”
“The judge wouldn’t grant one, he said.”
“We don’t have to say we broke in, you know.”
“That would be lying.”
Now he has to grow a conscience? “So?”
“I don’t lie.” Sam stabbed a hand through his thick, sandy hair.
“Even for a good cause?”
“No.”
“You knew this would happen as soon as I told you why I needed to get in the backroom. Why are you changing your mind now?”
He cocked a brow. “Because my conscience fought the battle against justice, and my conscience won.”
“That sounds like a country western song. Nobody will ever know if we don’t tell her. It’s not as if Deidra will report the break in.”
He leaned forward, and she could smell his aftershave lotion and almost forgot what he’d been saying. “Lying is lying, no matter the reason. To me, there’s nothing worse than someone not telling the truth.”
Jenna forced her face into a neutral position. She pressed a hand on her stomach to quell the acid that was eating away her insides. Their whole relationship was based on a lie. He’d hate her for sure if he ever found out.
“What do you propose?” she asked with a lightheartedness she didn’t feel.
“Find another way to catch Deidra Willows at her own game.”
Like she hadn’t been trying to do that for a month. “What if we just say that while I was working, I happened to notice an offensive smell—which is the truth by the way. When I went to investigate, I found a cauldron full of remains.”
“Deidra’s attorney would cut holes in your theory.”
The man had no imagination. Jenna crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat.
Someone punched the buttons on the lab door and Phil wheeled in. He glanced first at Jenna, and then at Sam. “Howdy folks. How are things going?”
She wasn’t in the mood for his cheeriness this morning. She was tempted to tell Phil the truth and see if he had any suggestions.
Sam moved away from Jenna. “Nothing much.”
What? Sam the confessor was keeping quiet?
“Well, I learned about an interesting development from Tampa PD. Seems they found a torso over at Ballast Point Pier. John Ahern, the ME in downtown, said the man’s head was severed in the same manner as Creighton Jackson—all clean lines and no tool marks.”
Oh, shit. She was the one who told her boss about the coincidence of the two bodies. Would Sam wonder how the TPD learned of the similarities?
“Did you tell him them about Creighton?”
“No.”
“How did they find out about the clean lines, then?” Sam asked.
“I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“Is the body coming here?” Sam asked.
Jenna studied Sam’s face. No mental machines seemed to be spinning. Maybe he never would know how the connection was made.
Phil lifted his right leg with his hands and changed positions. “I’ll ask.”
“Good. I’ll compare the style of amputation to Creighton’s Jackson. With Eric Markowitz’s help, I might be able to connect the two.”
She looked over at Sam wondering why he hadn’t spilled the beans about finding the new cauldron. There was a lot about the man she had yet to learn.
Jenna tried to block out Sam’s mumblings as he tested various weapons against the dent in skull that was, in theory, Carla’s sister. The DNA had not come back to see if there was a match, but regardless of whether Carla was related to the victim or not, Sam had to find the murder weapon.
Her butt had fallen asleep and her face itched from the gauze pads pulling on her cheeks every time she talked. She couldn’t wait for her injuries to heal. “Potty break. I’ll be right back,” she said.
Once out the door, she called Marlon Giombetti. Given the number of times he’d asked her out, she figured he’d do this favor for her. She explained she needed to find Richie Raden, a man she suspected of being involved in the recent grave robberies. Okay, not directly involved, but if he gave Deidra money to do a curse, she’d need bones, bones that might have been procured from graves.
“You owe me, Holliday.”
“Fine. Just do this, okay? But I don’t want Raden apprehended. I need to find out where the guy’s holing up in order to follow him. I need some information from him, that’s all.”
“You say you saw him with Willows, right?”
The man didn’t listen. “Yes, which implies your Jackson case might be related to this Raden guy.”
“Okay.” She couldn’t believe he hung up first. Whatever.
She actually used the bathroom before returning to the lab.
Sam dropped something heavy onto the metal gurney, and it sent out a strong ping. He blew out a breath.
Jenna walked over to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He stabbed a hand through his luscious sandy hair. “I’m not finding the weapon that crushed the skull. I’ve tried a crowbar, a hatchet, and a hammer. None of them match.”
She ran through some of the weapons used during her training. “What about a baseball bat?”
“Too round. This injury has beveled edges.”
Jenna studied the instruments he’d placed on the counter. “May I?”
“Sure.”
She picked up the hatchet, turned the blade toward her and slid the back of the hatchet into the large grove.
“I’ll be damned.” Sam’s smile reached his eyes and her heart lightened.
“Do you think this could be the murder weapon?” she asked.
“Not the exact one, but I’ll tell the police what they should be looking for. Good job.”
“Thanks. Tell me the story about how you learned to pick a lock.”
Sam’s hands stilled, and he glanced to the ceiling and then ripped off his gloves. “It’s not interesting.”
“It is to me.”
Sam stepped around the gurney and took Jenna’s hands. He walked her over to the two computer chairs and arranged them to face each other. Stress lines marred his perfect face.
“I was born in a small town in southeastern Ohio. Marietta to be exact, which is on the Ohio River. My father worked across the river, in West Virginia, at a packaging plant. My mom stayed home with my younger brother and me. We lived in a trailer, ate a lot of Spam, and went to school in clothes that never fit.”
What a depressing childhood. “My family didn’t have much money either, but at least we had a house and a fenced in yard.” Jenna moved her chair closer. “Were you a happy family?” She’d pictured Sam as a shy child who liked to smile.
“At first. Dad was a rough-around-the-edges kind of guy. He didn’t treat Mom very well, or us, for that matter, but she never complained. We didn’t either. Hell, we didn’t dare, unless we wanted the belt. When Dad lost his job, I was nine and Eddie, my brother, was seven and a half. We had to move up to Akron, Ohio where Dad found another job.”
She’d gone through a change of schools after her mom died. It sucked. “Was it hard to leave your friends?”
“I didn’t have many, so, I guess no. I never fit in at either school. I liked science and found dead people fascinating. No one else shared my passion.”
She almost laughed as his self-assessment, but her heart hurt too much for him. She wanted to console him, but she also needed to hear more. “What happened next?” She kept her tone as soft as possible.
“We did okay for the next three years until Dad lost his job again. He started drinking and we had to go on welfare. I... felt... I guess lost, would be the best way to describe it. I needed control in my life.”
“Ohmigod. That’s why you have to be neat and fold your clothes.”
“So I’ve been told. At least I didn’t go in the other direction and save every newspaper and piece of mail.”
“Hoarders are the worst.” She reached out and clasped his warm hand, hoping he understood she was there for him. “Did your dad find another job?”
He shook his head. “No one wanted to hire a drunk.”
“How is he today?”
Sam’s face pinched. “He’s dead.”
“Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry.” His father couldn’t have been very old. “What happened?” She sat back abruptly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I don’t want to pry.”
“It’s okay. It might be good to tell someone.”
And he chose her? Talk about guilt. “I’m listening.”
“I was having trouble sleeping one night when I heard a noise coming my parents’ bedroom. Mom was out of town visiting her older sister, so I went to investigate. I thought maybe Dad had fallen. He’d slipped before. I guess he didn’t hear me when I knocked, because as soon as I stepped into his bedroom, all I remember was the loud explosion of a gun.”
Jenna sucked in a breath. “He killed himself?”
“Yes.”
“So did my mom.”
His eyes widened. “How?”
“Pills. I never saw her dead, though. Dad found her and called the cops. She was gone before I woke up.” Sweat beaded on her forehead as chills put bumps on her arms. A boy so young would be scarred forever. Hell, she was too. “What did you do?”
His soft chuckle held no humor. “At first, nothing. I turned on the light and saw him lying there. I didn’t know what to do. I was thirteen, almost fourteen, and I was scared. It must have been two, three minutes before I had the courage to check him out. His face was half gone, but I still thought he might be alive. Dads didn’t die in my world. They lived forever.”
“Please tell me you called 9-1-1 for some adult help?”
“Eventually. It took years before I got over my hesitation. I thought if I’d acted quicker he might be alive today. The doctors told me my dad had died instantly, but I never could be sure.”
Jenna’s eyes watered. “What about your mom and your brother?”
“I didn’t call her until the next morning. I thought she’d be mad if I woke her up. I’m not sure she’s ever accepted my father’s death. The guilt from being away at the time of his suicide ripped her in two. You see they’d fought right before she left. She was convinced that’s what made him take his life.” Pain skittered across his face. “My mom took up drinking too and never stopped.”
Jenna sat there absorbing the terrible chain of events. “I can’t imagine such horror. How did your brother handle losing a dad?”
“Andy hurt the worst I think. After the gun went off, my brother apparently woke up and came in. I didn’t hear him until his sobs registered in my numb brain. I came to my senses and blocked his view with my body, but he’d seen Dad. That’s when I realized I needed to call for help.”
“That’s horrifying.” What else could she say? No words could express the trauma this man had been through. “And your brother. What happened to him?”
His eyes turned a dark, steely gray. “Eddie never recovered. For some reason, he decided that with Dad gone, he had to be the man of the family and bring in the money.”
“He was what? Eleven or twelve?”
“Twelve. We’re not quite two years apart.”
“The pain your family went through was incomprehensible.” It was similar to what she went through after her mother took her life. “What did your mom do for a living?”
“She worked as a hairdresser. After dad died, her job was to drink.”
Jenna swallowed. “How did you pay for school?”
“I served in the Navy for four years, partly to get away from the bad family dynamics and partly for the GI Bill.” He shook his head a few times. “I was a Navy Seal in fact. Or should I say, I went through the first seven of twelve months of training until an accident put me behind a desk.”
“An accident?”
He said nothing for a long moment. “It was stupid really. I was more than halfway through the course, when I went to a quiet lunch at a friend’s restaurant. There were maybe three customers at the place, max. A crazed man rushed in, gun in hand, with a mask over his face. He raced into the back where my friend was cooking.” Sam squeezed his eyes shut and gripped his fists tight.
She laid a hand on his. “What did you do? Did you have a gun or don’t Seals carry guns?”
“No gun on me. I called 9-1-1, but the cops would need at least ten minutes to respond. Two shots were fired and I reacted, giving no thought to the consequences. I charged in. I should have known better, but Gus was my friend and I’d seen his sixteen year old daughter in the back too.”
“What were you thinking dashing into danger?” She regretted the words the minute she said them.
“I wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to judge.” She softened her voice. “So then what?”
“I pushed open the door. The other three customers were a lot smarter. They ran to safety. To my horror, Gus was sprawled on the ground, blood pouring out of his gut. His daughter, Marie, was sobbing, begging for her life.”
Jenna sucked in a breath. “Ohmigod.”
“It gets worse. I shouted at the man to put his gun down. Me, the hero. The shooter didn’t hesitate. He turned the gun at me, fired, and then spun around to the daughter and shot her in the head.”
A salty tear streaked down her cheek. He was a hero, even if he didn’t believe it. “How badly were you hurt?”
He lifted his shirt and showed her a three-inch scar near his waist. She hadn’t noticed the injury when they were in bed. “The wound was the least of my concerns. I keep thinking if I hadn’t gone in, Marie might be alive today.”
“You don’t know that.” Her father had told her too many stories like this one. “What happened to the shooter?”
“He shot himself.”
From the small tick that lifted Sam’s jaw, he’d punished himself ever since. Poor Sam. “Maybe the attacker did you a favor.”
“How’s that?”
“It forced you to end your military career. You could have been sent overseas and died.”
“Sometimes I wish I had.”
He couldn’t mean it. She leaned back and inhaled, needing to learn more about him. “Why forensic anthropology? It seems a million miles away from being a Navy Seal.”
“Not really. I grew up wanting to help people. If I couldn’t save the world from terrorists, I could bring closure to the families who’d lost loved ones. And remember, I had a fascination with dead people for some reason.”
Like her reason for being a cop. “I understand.” Except she didn’t like the dead.
Sam scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’ve never told anyone this story before.” Tears shimmered in his eyes.
Jenna’s heart nearly exploded. “Thank you for sharing.” The urge to hear the rest of the story prompted her to push him a little further. “You never told me about the lock picks.”
His brows rose. “Ah, yes, the infamous lock picks. That’s how this saga started, wasn’t it? Well, after dad’s death, we went on welfare, but the money barely kept food on the table. When mom became sick, we couldn’t pay for her medicine. It was then that Eddie started stealing. He was the one who bought the picks.”
“How did you get involved?” Sam was so straight-laced, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything illegal—until he’d helped her.
“When I was sixteen and Eddie was almost fifteen, he wanted me to help him break into a convenient store. I said no. Wondering if he had a gun, I searched his room. I found no gun, but I did find lock picks, and I became fascinated with them. I learned to open all kind of doors, just to see if I could, but I never did anything illegal.”
Jenna
looked deep into his eyes. The ache coming from him tore at her soul. “Then something bad happened, didn’t it?”
“Yes. Eddie stole some money from a bunch of older boys at school. They found out about the theft and beat him up real bad. Said if he didn’t return the money, they’d kill him. I thought I had no choice. I had to help. I’d already lost my father, and I didn’t want to lose my brother too.”
“So you broke into the store and took the money.”
“Yes.”
A sob caught in her throat. He’d grown up without knowing love, kind of like her after Mom died. Something inside her nearly broke. A deep yearning to connect with him nearly drowned her. “Did you get caught?”
“No, but after I gave my brother the amount of money he needed, I returned the rest to the store. They never found out who was responsible. After that, I retired my lock picks.”
“Then why did you keep them?”
“I guess to remind me that when things become bad in my life, it’s a lot better than it used to be.”
She took both his hands in hers, stood up, and pulled him to her. With as much tenderness as she could manage, she cupped his face in her hands. She wanted to give him comfort, give him everything he never had. She stepped back and unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged it off. Sam’s eyes widened. For once, he didn’t protest or say now wasn’t the right time for sex. They’d shared an unbreakable bond, and she could sense Sam felt the strong connection too.
He slipped his thumbs under her bra and raked his thumbs over her hardened nipples. Excitement rippled through her. With her gaze locked onto his, she stood on tiptoes and dragged his head down to hers, hoping he wouldn’t push her away. He needed to know someone cared. The moment their lips locked, Sam seemed to transform into a man full of passion, wanting to release all his fears, his guilt, his anxiety.
He backed her up to the counter opposite the door and lifted her onto the flat surface. The cold metal froze her rear, but she wasn’t going to complain. He unhooked her bra and slid the strap down with such care, she wondered if he thought she’d break if he went any faster.
