Sam narrowed his gaze. “Should I ask why you’re both covered in dirt?”
“Better you don’t.” Cait grimaced. “Not unless you want to know we spent time holed up in a crypt.”
“Yeah, not gonna touch that one.” He swept a hand toward the door. “Cait?”
She eased past him, and he closed the door behind them both. Then he reached out and brushed dust off her shoulders. “Maybe we should hit your apartment first so you can change.”
She gave him a sideways grin. “You’re so gonna want to wash your hands.”
Sam sat on Cait’s bed while she showered for the second time that day. Jason had called Dr. Thurgood, Lisa’s dean at the university, who’d agreed to speak with them as soon as classes let out for the day. Sam had checked in with his detectives, who were following up leads on two more missing girls. They hadn’t yet found anything connecting them to Lisa’s disappearance other than the fact they were in the same age group—and they’d gone missing on the very same day.
With the lieutenant making noise about calling in an FBI profiler, things were getting more complicated with each passing second.
Almost as complicated were his feelings for the woman who’d stripped to the skin without a single blush as she’d brushed past him to step into the shower.
He wanted to ask about the cemetery, but she’d been tight-lipped in the car. Which had his belly boiling. Something had happened. Something that scared her.
“Really wanna go there?” she’d asked.
Grunting, he’d tightened his hands around the wheel. “I only need to know what’s pertinent to the investigation.” He’d lied, because as much as he wanted to know what had frightened her, he wanted to give her time to get back in control. Keeping her fear in check was important to Cait.
“The list was all that’s pertinent, Detective,” she’d said, her voice clipped. But then she’d flashed him a bleak smile. “Sorry, I’m a little keyed up. Don’t know what it has to do with anything, but creepy shit happened as soon as we got there. Guess that’s a clue all by itself. It says the Worthens and Lisa are connected. We just have to figure out how.”
So he’d held back the questions he’d wanted to bark about why they both looked rumpled and dirty. Why Jason had been wearing only socks on his feet, one muddy. Why her face was white and her jaw tight, but he didn’t really want to know, because then he’d be drawn into whatever weird-ass magical thing had happened. And he decided he’d had enough. For now.
It was happening again. He was getting close. Worrying about her. No, scared shitless for her. He’d been down that path before. He tightened his tie.
All Sam wanted was to solve the case, wrap it up with a plain and simple bow, and kiss her good-bye. Again.
Only he was pretty sure he’d want to do more than kiss her. The thought of all that creamy flesh, sinewy muscle, and curves slick with soap made his mouth water and had his dick throbbing—a permanent condition whenever he was in touching distance of his ex.
“You ’bout finished up in there?” he shouted toward the bathroom.
“You try to wash corpse dust from your hair,” she hollered back.
What the hell? His jaw grew slack. He glanced down at his hands, then scooted off the bed to head to the kitchen sink.
In the distance he heard the shower stop and the shower curtain swish open. Hands gripping the sink, he fought not to head straight to the bedroom for another glimpse of her nude body as she pulled open drawers and dressed.
Bare feet padded toward him. He cut off the tap and dried his hands on a dish towel.
Arms encircled his waist from behind. Cait snuggled up against his back. “It was scary out there, Sam.”
Barely breathing, he held still. She smelled of coconut and flowers and humid heat. “Were you in danger?” he asked, his voice roughening.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
So why were her arms tightening around him?
Sam turned slowly. Cait was wrapped in a towel, water dripping from the ends of her hair. Her gaze stayed on his chest, hiding her eyes from him, which in her case were wide-open windows into her emotional state.
Despite all his arguments with himself he pressed a thumb under her chin and lifted her face. Her eyes blinked, and then her gaze locked with his. Without her usual scowling mask she appeared younger than her thirty-three years. Pale, with bright spots of color centered on her cheeks, she was vulnerable in a way he hadn’t seen in a long, long time.
The invitation was clear.
Oh, he was tempted. But afterward…he wasn’t ready to step back into the minefield of constant arguments and distrust. Leaving her bed that morning had been painful enough. He’d been reminded how good they were together in this one very important way. But everything he’d learned about the secrets she’d kept, the life he’d never known existed, made him wary.
Her mouth parted.
Damning himself, he bent to kiss her. Just a quick press of lips. Just a peck to reassure her.
The kiss exploded like an incendiary grenade. Her tongue stroked his lips, and he opened. His hands twisted in her hair, pulling her head back so he could ravage her mouth.
His cock throbbed, and he ground it against her, clothing and thick terry frustrating him until he was all but growling as he gathered her closer. Last chance, buddy. You’re gonna drown. He raised his head. “Want to fuck, or do you want to make it to the university before the professor leaves?”
“We could be quick,” she whispered, her facile hands roaming his back and buttocks.
“Uh-uh. I get you under me, I’m staying awhile.”
Her lips pouted.
He almost grinned, because as hot as she was for it, she was also eager to solve the mystery. Cait was like a pit bull with a chew toy. She couldn’t let go until she’d demolished every clue.
“Bastard,” she groaned.
“Get dressed,” he said, his voice gruff. “You’re wasting time.”
She turned, and he swatted her bottom. The quick scowl she threw over her shoulder as she stomped away nearly had him smiling.
Instead he grimaced and adjusted himself, trying not to think about the fact he had her smell all over him. Lord help him. He was falling fast. Next time he didn’t know if he’d be smart enough to push her away. She’d felt too damn right inside his arms.
“Hand it to him on a platter, and what does he do?” Cait muttered, pulling a dark, short-sleeved T-shirt over her head, then donning a thin leather jacket. Too hot for the weather, sure, but she wanted the extra armor. Black leather spelled badass, and she hoped he read the message loud and clear.
Glancing in the mirror, she felt more herself. Color had returned to her face. Her eyes no longer looked haunted. A scowl dug a line between her brows, and she liked seeing it there, because maybe he’d think she didn’t give a damn that he’d turned her down flat.
“Hurry it up,” he called from the other room. “We’ve only got an hour before our appointment. Who knows if we’ll find parking anywhere near the professor’s building.”
Funny, the way he’d kissed her, she didn’t believe he’d had a thought for their appointment with Lisa’s dean.
His body had been hard, head to toe—even his mouth, which had damn near bruised hers, he’d been so passionate. The way he’d cradled her close, squeezing so tight she couldn’t catch her breath, she’d felt every inch of his desire digging into her belly.
One little finger tucked into the edge of her towel, and she doubted they’d have made it to the bed in the other room. The kitchen counter maybe—the floor, if they’d decided to take a few seconds more.
So why had he pulled away? Was he really that worried the professor wouldn’t wait, or had he finally figured out she was more trouble than she was worth?
Trouble was what stared her in the face right now. The obstinate jut of her chin. The icicle gleam in her narrowed eyes. Cait didn’t do well with rejection, especially after Sam had taken that kiss so fa
r. She’d thought for sure he was right there with her. Despite the cool shower, her skin prickled; her breasts and clit throbbed.
With her fingers she ruffled her wet hair, swiped coral lipstick over her mouth, and then made a face in the mirror before she headed out of the bedroom.
Black boots stomping, she whizzed by Sam, who gave her a hot stare, and sailed out the door. He’d parked beside the sidewalk.
Without looking left or right, she hurried to the car. From the side she saw a figure. Not Sam’s. A woman’s, dressed in a slim gray skirt and gray silk shell. Cait didn’t have time to pull back and lifted her arms to brace for the collision. “Pardon me.”
The figure walked right through her, then stopped to glance back, blonde hair swinging around slender shoulders, blue eyes wide.
Cait closed her sagging jaw with a snap, flipped up the door handle of the car, and slid inside, watching as the woman walked slowly toward her door and peered inside the window.
What the hell? Swallowing hard as Sam got into the car, Cait kept silent, waiting to see if he’d noticed what had just happened.
But by the impatient way he shoved the keys in the ignition, slammed the gearstick, and pulled away from the curb, he hadn’t seen a thing.
Despite the added armor, she felt chilled to the bone. This was something new. Completely unexpected. She wasn’t just hearing ghosts. Now she was seeing them.
Chapter Eleven
Dr. Emory Thurgood led them into his cramped office and emptied a couple of chairs filled with books and students’ papers. “Please sit down,” he said, indicating available seats with a vague wave before settling in his own squeaky metal desk chair. “You’re here about Lisa?”
As she sat, Cait nodded. “We’re investigating her disappearance.”
The worry furrowing his forehead seemed sincere. He sat forward in his chair, his hands clasped together as he gave them both a glance that told them he was ready to help. “I can’t believe this. She’s such a talented girl. So smart. Her parents and I have spoken on the phone. Of course, they’re worried sick.”
Cait studied his appearance—khaki pants and sneakers; pale, striped, short-sleeved dress shirt; slightly shaggy hair; and dark-rimmed glasses. He appeared exactly as what he was—a college professor nearing his forties. Mentally, she scratched him off the list of human suspects, or at least moved him further down. Even though she already knew in her gut that no human was responsible, she had to consider the possibility the disappearance was an ordinary crime.
She nodded to Sam, handing him the lead, so she could continue to study the professor’s reactions.
Sam pulled the crumpled list from his pocket and extended it. “Does this mean anything to you? We found this in her apartment.”
The professor scanned the list and nodded. “The first name does. Jonas Worthen. Lisa was responsible for determining the likely identity of the body we found. That’s the name she came up with.”
Sam sat up straighter. “You found a body?”
“Which we reported to the police,” the professor said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Since evidence showed the body’d been there a long time, the responding detective allowed us to continue with our excavation effort.”
“You say Lisa identified it.”
“As part of their requirements to earn their master’s, grad students have to participate in a dig. I usually spend my summers in Egypt and take several with me. Recently, I was asked to excavate a Civil War site here. The university allowed me to add a course for the summer and fall semesters to help students finish their requirements closer to home. Lisa’s an undergrad student, but since she’d shown promise, I permitted her to audit the course. The project was an old bunker, beneath one of the hills overlooking the river. We hoped to find cannonballs, munitions, maybe some buttons and other artifacts. In the course of our excavation, we also found the body.”
“And you think it was this Jonas Worthen?”
The professor’s eyebrows drew together. “It’s strange, really. The body was wrapped in linens and saturated in some sort of herbal oil. Its jaw was strapped closed, and an emblem was pinned to the wrappings. By its size, we guessed the body was male. Lisa was pretty clever. Spent hours researching the crest and found out it belonged to a family that perished in 1863.” He glanced at the list. “I assume the other names on the list are those family members. The last time she was here, she said she wanted to find their gravesites.”
“Jonas Worthen and his entire family have graves in Edgemont Cemetery. A family plot,” Sam said. “Why would you think it might be his if his headstone is there?”
“Well, it’s one of those mysteries, isn’t it?” Dr. Thurgood’s eyes gleamed. “We’ll want to find those graves and disinter the bodies to take DNA samples. We might actually prove the body we have is Jonas’s or perhaps some other family member’s. Or maybe the crest was more widely used, and we’ll never know the body’s identity.”
Cait shifted in her chair. “Where is the body you found now?”
“Still in the bunker. Undisturbed except for the head wrappings. Nasty business there. One of the day laborers opened it up.” He shrugged. “Got curious, I guess. After he messed with the corpse, I decided to lock up the site. There was some other trouble—equipment missing, accidents. I wanted a chance to look at our security and figure out if the laborer was working alone. Now this thing with Lisa…” He blew out a deep breath and hung his head.
“This trouble. Can you be more specific?” Sam asked.
“We set up a table with a microscope to examine the linen wrappings. The slides were smashed. Tarps, ropes, notes went missing. From inside the bunker. So we know it was someone working the dig, not the usual vandalism surrounding a site.”
“What about the emblem?” Cait asked, her mind working fast, wondering what it all meant. Accidents, vandalism, an unidentified body buried in a bunker. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose.
“It’s still pinned to the body. I don’t remove things without fully documenting and preserving the finds.”
“Can we get access to that bunker?”
The professor glanced up, eyes narrowing. “I’m not sure how that would help…”
Cait waved a hand. “We’re trying to build a picture of Lisa’s life—the things she was involved in. Those accidents and missing things—they might be somehow related. We won’t know until we’ve explored everything.”
“Would you like me to take you?”
And have him shadowing her every move? Not likely. She already had Sam. “Can we just get the keys and have a look around for ourselves?”
His affable, open expression changed, closed. “I’m responsible for the excavation. I don’t like the idea of anyone going there without supervision.”
Sam touched her arm. “We have a crime to investigate,” he said, his tone firm. “We prefer no interference.”
Her muscles stiffened. His gesture told her that he’d handle it.
The professor’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you think I have something to do with her disappearance?”
“Not at the moment,” Sam said, moving forward in his chair, “but your reluctance to help us do our job sheds a different light on things.”
The professor’s mouth pursed. He dug into his pocket and removed a key ring, then slid one off. “Take the key. It opens the padlock on the door we erected to close the bunker. I don’t have anything to hide. But be careful when you’re inside. The roof is unsupported except for old wooden braces that are rotting. The body’s toward the back of the bunker. Don’t touch it.”
“Don’t plan on it. But we have to look around.”
“This day laborer…” Cait said softly, her gaze narrowed. “The one who disturbed the body…what’s his name?”
“I’ll do you one better.” Dr. Thurgood thumbed through a standing rack of manila folders, selected one, and handed Sam a photocopy of the worker’s driver’s license. “I was getting ready to fire him. He s
aved me the bother. Haven’t seen him since the day he cut the wrappings.”
Interesting. “What was his job?”
“Muscle. He picked out mortar to remove bricks, took out shovelfuls of dirt behind us as we cleared each area, working toward the back.”
“And had he done anything like that before?” Cait asked. “Shown any particular interest in the dig?”
“None. He was rather lazy, leaning on his shovel and smoking until someone gave him a direct order to do something.” He shrugged. “But what can you expect? We can’t afford to pay more than minimum wage. Guess we’re lucky more items didn’t walk away from the site.”
Sam pushed up from his chair.
Cait did the same. “Thanks for your help,” she said. “We’ll be in touch.”
“The site’s across the street from the Metal Museum in De Soto Park. You can’t miss the big white tent covering the entrance. Without the generator running, you’ll need flashlights.”
“We’ll get the key back to you tomorrow,” she said.
Dr. Thurgood nodded. “Just…don’t touch anything—if you can help it.”
Cait lifted a hand and followed Sam out the door. They paused outside the professor’s door.
Sam shoved the key in his pocket, then handed her the photocopy. “Not feelin’ good about this guy.”
She glanced at the picture of the dough-faced man with dirty blond hair and a hint of a scraggly beard. Michael Donnelly. “Think Lisa’s disappearance might have nothing to do with the supernatural?”
One side of his mouth curved. “What’s the matter? Would you be disappointed if Lisa was the victim of a run-of-the-mill kidnapping?”
“Not at all.” A shoulder shrugged. “So much simpler. I just hope she’s still alive. But it will mean this is a bit of a tangent if it’s not connected to Henry’s death at all.”
“Worried you won’t get paid if it’s not about Henry?”
Cait snorted. “I’m not an asshole, Sam. And you forget. The Farmingtons have Jason and me on retainer now. So this is still my case.”
Shattered Souls Page 9
