by Kylie Brant
But he wasn’t wrong about her. He knew he wasn’t. Lucy Benally was perfect for him. They were meant to be together. He just had to shut off the noise in his head long enough to figure out a way to make that happen.
Dropping down on the couch, he picked up his laptop and began looking for his and Lucy’s new home. Somewhere remote. Isolated. Sonny was a patient man, a gentle one, but the lessons would be easier once Lucy realized she had nowhere to run. No one to turn to.
No one but him.
Chapter 8
“Sleep is known for it’s restorative powers, Lucy. That’s why they invented beds.” Gavin Connerly stifled a yawn as he helped the diminutive ME push the gurney holding the body discovered the evening before from the morgue’s refrigerated room. The wheels of the cart clattered in the early morning silence as they pushed it down the sterile dimly-lit hall toward the autopsy suite Lucy had claimed.
“If you’re that tired, you can climb up on this cart once we transfer the body to the autopsy table.” But Lucy’s words lacked rancor. Unlike Gavin, the work they’d been involved in for the last several hours had exhilarated, rather than exhausted her. Her mind couldn’t rest until she had answers, and if her mind wasn’t at rest, well…then her body was out of luck.
“I was shocked when you offered to accompany the ME assistants back here with the first two bodies.” There was suspicion, and a discomforting hint of insight in his words. “What gives, Luce?”
“Don’t call me that.” She opened the door into the suite and they maneuvered the gurney inside. “The first station. Help me transfer her over to its table. Please.”
His teeth flashed then, making his narrow face ridiculously attractive. Her stomach did a neat flip. From hunger, she assured herself as they brought the gurney beside the stainless steel table and carefully lifted the body onto it. She’d skipped dinner. And chances for breakfast were looking about as feasible as Gavin’s pleas for sleep.
“I think that’s only the second time I’ve ever heard you say please.”
Because he so clearly wanted her to inquire, she ignored the remark. “I can handle it from here if you want to go back to the hotel.”
“The first time was the night we spent together before I flew back to California.” He wheeled the gurney to the opposite wall of the suite and returned with a saunter in his step. His green eyes were alight with amusement, and something else. Something she didn’t want to identify. “As I recall it was after I touched you right…”
“I seem to recall that you were the one to do most of the begging.” She turned to the cupboard several feet away and took out the tools she’d need and arranged them on the autopsy tray. She mentally damned herself for being drawn into the conversation after all. Lucy didn’t need any verbal reminders about the hours she’d spent wrapped around Gavin Connerly. Her memory of that time was spectacularly vivid.
“You know, you’re right.” He followed her to the counter and propped his lean form against it. The man seemed to have a phobia about standing upright. “I wouldn’t mind doing some more begging when we’re through here. I’m not proud.”
“I’ve noticed.” Arranging the hammer, bonesaw, scalpels, and knives on the sterile paper towel covering the tray, she placed the tray on top of a four-shelf rolling cart and returned to the table, careful to keep her back to him so he wouldn’t see her smile. Hers was a somber job and Lucy was a serious woman with little time for frivolity. Longer exposure to Gavin’s seeming constant affability would surely elevate him from irritant to unbearable annoyance.
Maybe that would be the trick to extricate him from her thoughts. The idea tantalized. She could increase the time she spent with him rather than avoiding him altogether. It was almost certain that he wouldn’t wear well.
That thought summoned another, one much more intimate. She cast a speculative glance in his direction. Perhaps the chemistry between them would burn itself out if she spent more hours stretched out with him in that hotel bed he mentioned. Enough to completely satiate her of this inexplicable attraction.
His brows rose. “Whatever you’re thinking, I think I like it.”
She turned away and the sight of the three bodies waiting, still and silent on the gleaming stainless steel tables, jolted her focus back to the job. “I’m serious. I can take it from here. Go get some sleep. The victims aren’t going anywhere.”
There was a long tension-filled silence behind her. Then Gavin appeared at her side. “I think we both know that you can’t get rid of me. And sometime soon you and I are going to have that discussion you’ve successfully avoided since I got here.”
“I think the matter at hand is a little more important than a conversation,” she retorted. She brushed by him to retrieve the hand-held oscillating saw and the pruning shears that she favored as rib cutters. Both instruments were placed on another tray and set on the second shelf of the cart.
“Agreed.” He went to dig in the cupboard and collected measuring cups, a skull chisel and toothed forceps to join the ones she’d set out. “The job first. But then…”
A shiver chased down Lucy’s back at the promise imbued in his words. She’d been granted a reprieve and it was one she gratefully accepted. Sometime in the intervening hours she’d manage to rebuild her usually stalwart defenses. Because it was going to take far more than sharp words and a prickly exterior to drive this man away.
She was going to need a fortress.
* * * *
“You summoned?”
Masked and gowned, Cam and Sophia entered the autopsy suite. When the smell assailed her, Sophia reared back. The odor was as powerful as a weapon, strong enough to bring tears to her eyes. Blinking them away, she was again reminded that given the offender’s predilection for the dead, he may be unable to smell or deliberately rendered himself that way. The odor was different from the stench of putrefaction she’d expected. Formaldehyde was the uppermost in the scents stinging her nose despite the mask she wore.
Gavin Connerly gave them a lazy wave, but Lucy spared them only the briefest of glances. “I figured you’d be in a hurry for information. As it happens, I’m in a hurry to deliver it. I’d like to start the autopsy. Sophia. I assume that butt-ugly suit is part of the disguise?”
Until that moment it hadn’t occurred to Sophia to consider that Lucy, who was not considered part of the investigative team, wouldn’t have been given the truth about the false obituary. And she felt a stab of remorse for that. “Not a very effective one, obviously.” She strode to the woman’s side. Touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I was allowed to tell a few people the truth, but I didn’t have your number.”
“Well.” The other woman gave her a small smile. “That’ll teach me to be so miserly about giving it out. I wouldn’t have known the truth if it weren’t for blabbermouth over there.” She jerked her head in Gavin’s direction.
“And you’re welcome,” he inserted.
“Can you put off the autopsy for an hour?” Cam’s request elicited a dagger-like stare from Lucy. “I’ve got a briefing in thirty minutes.”
“And I’ve got three of your victims ready to give up information about their killer.” She walked to the side of the first autopsy station and tapped the table impatiently. “I understand another body is being excavated as we speak.”
Cam nodded. “There’s even a possibility of a fourth in that grave. They’ll be digging for a while. I’ve also got a dive team forming, so I’m probably going to be at the site most of the day. Which doesn’t mean I don’t want to be at the autopsy” Cam hastened to add as Lucy narrowed a look at him. “I just can’t be in two places at once without cloning myself.”
“Out of an abundance of concern for a world with two of you in it, I’d advise against the process.”
Concentrating on breathing through her mouth, Sophia looked at the bodies. Back to Lucy. “You’re doing all three autopsies today?”
The ME’s mouth quirked. “I’m good. But not superhuman, unfortunately
. I’ve done an exam and photos of all three already. They’ve all been weighed, cleaned and x-rayed. I’ll probably get one autopsy done myself before heading home for some sleep.”
“Don’t let her fool you. She’s hoping that when other staff comes in and sees the second two victims ready, they’ll start the autopsies sooner rather than later.”
Cam grinned at Gavin. “A woman after my own heart.” He glanced at the sharpened tools on the tray next to the autopsy station. “Figuratively speaking.”
“I’m just being efficient.” Lucy’s tone was dismissive. “ But I plan to get this first victim done before I leave today. I’ll just let you know when the final report is ready.”
“I can have another agent here. Just give me some time.”
Cam and Lucy exchanged glares. Sophia knew that being present at the autopsy meant the agent was privy to the ME’s observations as she worked on the victim. And since they were in a hurry to glean whatever they could about the crime, it was imperative to have an observer from the task force at the autopsies, rather than wait for a report that could take days or longer.
“I can understand your hurry,” she told Lucy, turning to scan the other tables. “You’ve got quite a job on your hands. We’re in a hurry too, to learn anything you can tell us.” She turned back to smile at the woman by her side. “I’m not going to volunteer to be the one to observe your work, but someone from the team should be here. How much time can you spare us?”
“Oh, come on, Luce, tell them the truth.” Pushing away from his stance against the counter, Gavin approached them. “She really just wants to get done as much as she can before the other examiners arrive and she has to share the fun.” To Cam he said, “We can stay busy for another hour before beginning. But no more than that. Neither of us got any sleep last night.”
The look Lucy was aiming at the forensic anthropologist should have flayed several layers of skin off him. “You’re not in charge here, Connerly. You weren’t even invited. And I say…”
“As Lucy said, we examined all three victims,” he continued calmly, seemingly unconcerned by the woman seething at his side. “All have been embalmed, although maybe not professionally. “There’s embalming fluid leaking from two of them. All were vaginally and anally penetrated, but the…ah…damage from the sexual assault, at least outwardly, appears to be less extensive than that sustained by the first six victims.”
Elbowing the man aside, Lucy marched to the computer atop a cart in the middle of the room and typed in a few commands. Sophia was relieved—and more than a little amused—to see a PowerPoint display of photos detailing every step of the excavation. The ME was notoriously OCD about keeping digital files of her work.
Lucy scrolled to pictures that had obviously been taken in the lab. Then slowed to display them. “It’s not just the sexual assaults that appear to be less brutal. The torture—while definitely evident—wasn’t as ferocious as the others, either. You’ll note here,” she flipped to another set of photos showing the leathery dehydrated skin from the backs of the bodies, “that all three victims have been numbered. If I enhance the pictures…rotate them…”
Cam and Sophia moved forward to examine the photos more carefully. “That looks like a seven. Or a one.”
“Rhonda Klaussen, Vance’s first victim bears a one,” Cam said tersely. His gaze was intent on the screen.
“A seven then.” She peered more closely, felt more certain of her observation when Lucy highlighted the wounds in the photos using a tool to draw circles around each of them. “It is a seven. And the next…” She swallowed hard. Laid a casual hand on the nearby counter. Gripped its edge tightly. “Four.” Without appearing to, she drew in a deep breath. Released it slowly. And struggled to keep a tight seal on the door against the memories that threatened to intrude.
It served no purpose to wonder about the number she would have borne if she hadn’t escaped from Vance. Or to question the location chosen for the shallow grave her body would have been excavated from, had it been discovered at all.
“What’s the next number…shit.”
Cam’s voice succeeding in pulling Sophia from the nightmare that threatened to pounce. She re-focused on the screen. Hissed out a breath. “Is that…”
“Yep. This is the victim found a couple night’s ago when the sick fuck decided he was in the mood for romance.” Lucy’s voice was hard. And her eyes, like all of theirs were glued to the newest photo displayed on the screen. “I had to enhance the pictures to be sure of the number, but anyone disagree that she’s number sixteen?”
* * * *
“I’ve always wondered what that meant, that saying on the sign Lucy has sitting out.” Cam parked the car in the lot of the Iowa State Patrol Post 1 building, where DCI Zone 1 field agents had their offices in Des Moines. The IOSME shared a campus with the state crime lab in Ankeny. Given the hour, they’d bucked traffic all the way here. Cam and Sophia walked across the pavement to the structure. “I know it’s hers because I never see it unless she’s the attending ME. But I’m not sure what language it is.”
Sophia recognized the verbal distraction for what it was. Her mind was furiously circling the ramifications of what the ME had revealed. But the upcoming briefing would be soon enough to focus on that. So she accepted the reprieve his conversational gambit provided even as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides. Although not wearing the towering heels she usually favored, Sophia’s steps were shorter than his. He unconsciously adjusted his stride to accommodate her. The small gesture softened something inside her. “The language is Navajo, I assume. Lucy grew up on the reservation.”
He stopped in his tracks. Stared. “She’s Native American?” Almost immediately he corrected himself. “Sure she is. She has the coloring. I just never thought… Actually I try not to think about Benally when it doesn’t directly involve a case. That’s how I can sleep at night.”
Sophia gave a smug smile. “You two do seem to have a rather…caustic relationship. Too much in common, I think.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “You share the same abrasive charm.”
“I’m officially offended,” he declared. He squinted a little against the bright overhead sun. The expression had tiny creases fanning from the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t a man who was going to get less devastating over time, she realized. In the ultimate unfairness of fate, every crease, every line to his face was only going to make him sexier. And more and more, she was coming to realize that she wanted to be there to experience those years with him.
The thought yielded a familiar flare of panic, one that took effort to extinguish. She’d exerted careful control over every aspect of her life, including the men she allowed in it. Her brief intimate relationship with Cam had been an aberration, one she’d been quick to correct when she’d felt too much for the man, much too soon. But Mason Vance had shattered the allusion that any amount of personal control could truly keep a person safe. And she was coming to recognize that some risks were worth taking.
Cam Prescott just might be one of them.
“Every time I’m in an autopsy suite with her, I leave feeling like she’s used the scalpels on me, rather than the victim,” he complained as they drew closer to the building.
“When I meet someone with a prickly exterior like hers, I immediately wonder what experiences have caused it. Which is something she and I actually have in common,” she declared as she walked briskly beside him. Women who wore wigs for health or other reasons would have her undying admiration in the future. Already her head itched. And the entire day still lay before her. “I dissect personalities. She dissects corpses.”
He grunted, checked his watch. Whatever he saw there had him quickening his step. “Not just corpses. If Connerly spends too much time around her, he better watch his back.”
A smile played around the corners of her mouth at the thought of the two. “Oh, I don’t think Gavin is threatened by Lucy. Just the opposite.”
It obviously took a mom
ent for him to grasp her meaning. When he did he froze, his hand on the door handle to the entrance. “Are you saying…uh-uh. No way.”
“Who’s the expert on people here, Agent, you or me?” She reached out to pull open the door and he had to step aside or risk getting beaned by it.
“You mean he…they…both of them… Holy shit.” He seemed ridiculously dazed at what she was suggesting. “That would explain why he offered his services this time around, and pro bono at that. But sleeping with Lucy Benally…” Cam gave his head a little shake as if to clear it as they walked down the hallway to the conference room that would hold the briefing. “Connerly’s got balls, I’ll give him that. Probably not for long, since it’s Benally, but still.”
Her elbow caught him in the ribs. “Stop. I think they’re cute together.”
His golden brown eyes widened comically. “Cute? Sure, praying mantises are cute. Right up until the female devours the male’s head.” He opened the door to the conference room and waited for her to precede him.
His words were an almost jarring reminder of her earlier thoughts. “And yet the male mantis takes that chance. Proving that even in nature, love is never without risk.”
* * * *
“So far the excavation has yielded two more bodies.” Scanning the team members gathered in the conference room, Cam saw identical grim expressions stamped on every face. “We know there’s at least one more. All the bodies were embalmed, so none are skeletonized. That’s going to be a huge help for us when it comes to identifying them, which is good because the embalming will make it real difficult to get a time of death.”
The evidence team would have taken core samples from the soil as the digging continued, to look for plant life and other evidence that might give them hints about how long they’d been buried. “The excavation is continuing. The HRD team got three separate hits on the river. I’ve alerted Department of Natural Resources. They’re bringing a boat with a side scan sonar.”
