Bone Deep

by Janice Kay Johnson

  Kat wondered how many of the plants would be purchased at Sauk River this year.

  She fled as soon as she could after the meeting, glad she’d been able to sit near the door. Annika raised her eyebrows as if in question when she saw Kat going, and Kat mouthed, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  A nod, and she slipped out, hurrying to the parking lot, the first to reach her car. She felt sick. What if Grant couldn’t figure out what was going on? What if the next bones were presented to her publicly? Leg bones in one of the ceramic pots for sale inside? A pelvis hung over the rack of seeds? The possibilities were many and so awful, she had to close her eyes and rest her forehead against the steering wheel. The police would have to make a statement. The whole story would be revived in not only the local paper, but the Herald and even the Seattle Times. The way the bones were being presented was macabre enough to potentially appeal even to national news organizations.

  Kat didn’t know if she could bear it.

  She straightened and in her sideview mirror saw a cluster of people exiting the library and spreading through the parking lot. Her hands were shaking, but she put the car in gear anyway and drove home, grateful that the roads were mostly empty.

  The house was dark. She should have left lights on. For the first time it occurred to her that her home was no more inviolate than the nursery. She’d been glad enough since Hugh’s disappearance that she had near neighbors instead of living out at the nursery. The houses to each side of hers were dark, too, though, and she thought uneasily about how the back door had only a push-button lock. She wouldn’t swear all the windows were locked at all. If she was the object of this campaign of terror and not just her business, home might not be a refuge.

  Feeling like such a coward, she sat in the car for a good three minutes before working up the nerve to get out and go up the front steps. She heard only silence when she unlocked the door and stepped cautiously inside. She turned on a light in every room and left them on behind her. She wouldn’t feel comfortable until she was sure she was alone in the house.

  Downstairs she checked the windows, the coat closet, the pantry. Upstairs, she looked under beds and in closets. She propped a chair under her bedroom doorknob and, even so, couldn’t sleep.

  Which meant she looked like hell the next morning, with huge dark circles under her eyes, a lovely contrast to pasty skin. Kat groaned, peering at herself in the mirror. With a sigh, she scraped her hair back in a ponytail. The nice, brisk air outside would give her cheeks color.

  She dressed in faded overalls, long-sleeved T and thick socks to keep her feet warm inside rubber boots, then added a fleece jacket since the forecast on Yahoo! called for temperatures in the forties.

  Spring, where art thou? Her attempt to be whimsical fell flat in her own mind. She knew—knew—that Grant would show up at some point during the day. For once, she wanted to see him, even if another visit from the Fern Bluff police chief would only add fuel to the gossip. Had he learned anything?

  This would all be easier if his presence alone wasn’t enough to put her on edge. She had so many conflicting emotions where he was concerned, it was like…like putting fried oysters, jalapeno peppers and chocolate chips all on a pizza. Nothing went together. Result: upset stomach.

  It was the push-pull between her attraction to him and her knowledge that he could hurt her as she’d never been hurt before that caused most of this inner turmoil. Well, that along with the fact that she saw him look at her sometimes with that flat cop stare and knew he expected to be arresting her for murder one of these days. Not what you’d call reassuring. And yet…when she was scared, it was Grant she wanted.

  Which made no sense at all.

  Midmorning she called Annika and lied, telling her she’d been battling a migraine last night. Annika thanked her for helping to reconcile the warring factions, and they exchanged a few words about the unseasonably wretched weather. Going out in it, Kat thought ruefully about how only two weeks ago she’d been glorying in the validation of being chosen for the award. Hadn’t the sun been shining, too? Business had already been picking up for spring, she did remember that, and she’d assumed the publicity would boost it even more. Instead, today was all but dead… Poor choice of words, she thought, hastily correcting herself. Business was slow.

  She’d made herself go to work in the far greenhouse, sans iPod and wishing she could lock the doors at each end. But she gradually relaxed, the rhythm of repotting settling her nerves, the humid warmth welcome after the chill outside. Nonetheless, her head came up sharply when the heavy door opened. Her pulse leaped.

  The sight of Grant in his uniform didn’t do anything to settle her heartbeat.

  Their eyes met briefly, then he glanced around the greenhouse, taking in the rows of potted seedlings laid out on long tables. He strolled toward her, peeling off the parka with a police department patch on the chest as he came. Kat suffered from the usual ache she felt whenever she first saw him. He looked too good, even though he wasn’t exactly handsome. Nowhere near as handsome as Hugh had been. His features were blunt, his nose a little crooked, his mouth…hard. He didn’t seem to smile all that often, and too frequently his dark eyebrows were drawn together in a frown. Something about the lines to each side of his mouth and the crow’s-feet beside his eyes made him look world-weary and older than she suspected he was.

  But he was also big and broad-shouldered and he had a way of moving that twisted her up inside. He was lighter on his feet than he should be, and she knew without ever seeing him in action that he could respond with lightning speed and violence when he had to.

  “Waiting for a bone to pop up?” he asked, nodding to the trowel in her hand.

  “I’ve reached the point where I’m numb. It’ll take more than another small bone to faze me.”

  His eyes searched her face, seeing more than she’d like, Kat guessed. “How are you?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that felt like his big, calloused hand did when he touched her.

  The very few times he’d touched her.

  Kat’s throat closed. She, who hated admitting to any vulnerability, heard herself say after a minute, “Shaky.”

  “I don’t know how you could help but be.” He pulled up another stool and sat facing her, close enough his knee would have bumped hers if she moved at all.

  “At the garden club meeting last night, some people wouldn’t meet my eyes. Another one or two gave me the cold shoulder.”

  “You might be seeing what you’re afraid you’ll see, not what’s really there,” he said with surprising gentleness.

  Kat laid down the trowel and bent her head to look at her hands, which suddenly wanted to tremble. “Yes. I suppose that’s possible.”

  “Did anyone actually say anything?”

  “No.” She paused. “I overheard one of my own employees talking about me the other day, though. I wanted to fire her, but…”

  When she didn’t finish, Grant did for her. “You’d make an enemy out of her.”

  “Apparently, she’s next best to one already.” She lifted her head, hoping she didn’t look too beseeching. “I don’t understand why.”

  He surprised her again, laying a big hand over one of hers. Oh, yes, sighed a voice in her head that had to be hers even if the satisfaction in it did shock her.

  “You lived through it last time,” he said quietly.

  She tried really hard to smile. “I know I did. But this…is different.”

  “No. It’s just part two of whatever happened then.”

  That jibed with what she’d thought last night at the garden club meeting, but… “Why now?” she asked. “Why wait so long?”

  “I don’t know. If we can figure that out, we can probably figure out the rest.”

  Kat nodded after a moment. “Business is down. It’s going to be down even more if I wasn’t imagining all those snubs last night. Those are my best customers. If they quit shopping here—”

  “Gossip can have the opposite effect
, you know. People don’t want to miss out on anything. They may shop here in droves in hopes they’ll be the eyewitness to something exciting. You’ll gain new customers.”

  She shuddered. “It occurred to me to wonder how the ante can be upped. If you know what I mean.”

  “I know.” His expression had abruptly become unreadable. He was all cop again, watching for her to betray herself in some way.

  Kat quit feeling safe because he was there and switched seamlessly over to feeling threatened. With a small movement she withdrew her hand from under his.

  His gaze flicked down, then focused on her face. “What are you bracing yourself for, Kat?”

  “A stray bone or two won’t have much impact. What occurred to me is that a public presentation would be hideous.”

  “You mean, let one of your customers find the next bone?”

  She couldn’t help this shudder any more than she’d been able to the last. “Can you imagine?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. The thought’s crossed my mind, too.”

  “What do I do, come early every morning and search the nursery before we open?”

  “Might not hurt.”

  “Dear God.”

  “Kat…”

  There was something in his tone. Kat stiffened.

  “Do you know anything you haven’t told me?”

  She withdrew, infinitestimally enough she hoped he didn’t notice. Flippancy seemed her only defense. “You mean, did I bash in Hugh’s head and forget to mention where I hid his body?”

  Grant’s expression hardened. “Have you gotten any notes? Any phone calls?” He paused. “Is someone trying to blackmail you?”

  It took her a moment to suppress the wash of anguish. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? Sadly, I can’t afford the million bucks.” She shrugged. “Apparently somebody doesn’t like ‘gee, no’ as an answer.”

  Muscles flexed in his jaw. He waited.

  “No!” It burst out of her, a detonation that left her raw. “No! I don’t know anything.” She was trembling as she stood and backed away from him. Why had she ever imagined he was on her side? She knew better.

  “Kat.” Grant stood, too, slowly, as if he was being careful not to spook her. “I’m sorry. I had to ask.”

  “And you thought if I’d killed him, I would tell you?” she said incredulously.

  “I thought if it was an accident, you might be getting scared enough that you would.”

  “He drove away. I never saw him again.” Maybe she managed the monotone because she’d said this so many times before.

  “All right.” There was that damn gentleness again. He was placating her, thinking he’d soothe her into forgetting that he had accused her of murder. “Then we’re still at square one.”

  “There’s no we. You’re investigating a murder.” She stared at him. “I’m facing the fact that somebody hates my guts.”

  “I want to believe in you.”

  “But you don’t,” Kat said flatly. “Don’t bother pretending.” She crossed her arms. “Are you testing the bones for DNA?”

  Somehow he’d closed the distance between them. Kat couldn’t go much farther without bumping into one of the big tables.

  “No.” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “I will if I have to, but I think the wedding ring is a pretty clear indication that the bones are Hugh’s. Unless there’s any chance he wasn’t wearing the ring when he disappeared?”

  Was that a question, or not? Kat tried to decide. “He was wearing it,” she said. “He never took it off. Never fiddled with it. I’m not sure he even remembered he was wearing it. It was just…there.”

  “Would you have noticed if he wasn’t?”

  She momentarily closed her eyes. “Yes. He’d been…affectionate the day or two before. When I woke up that morning, his arm was lying over me. I remember studying his hand when I woke up. I won’t absolutely swear he didn’t take it off and put it in the glove compartment as he drove away, but why would he?”

  She saw something on Grant’s face. She couldn’t decide what.

  “All right,” he said again. “If nothing else shows up in the next week or two, I’ll request a DNA test. Results are slow coming, though. The crime lab gets pretty backed up.”

  “But you don’t think you’ll have to.”

  Eyes watchful, he said, “Dental X-rays would tell us the same thing, easier and cheaper.”

  Her breath huffed hard from her. It was a moment before Kat could speak. “You mean, if…if his skull shows up.”

  He made a quick movement toward her. She made as quick a one back, until the rough edge of the table pressed into her lower back. Very, very calmly, she said, “I always enjoy talking to you, Grant. But now, if you don’t mind, I’d better get back to work.”

  “You’ve never wanted anything to do with me, have you?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes dark and searching.

  The first truly personal words he’d spoken to her in four years, these felt like another body blow.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Why?”

  “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have.” He sounded angry. “You shouldn’t have kissed me back.”

  Her arms tightened around herself. “No. You’re right.” She was mad at her own thin wisp of a voice.

  “I was divorced and you were widowed not that much later.”

  Her chin snapped up. “I didn’t know I was widowed.”

  “In all these years, you never suspected the son of a bitch was dead.”

  “Of course I suspected it!” She swung away, presenting her back to him. “But I didn’t know. How could I?”

  “You couldn’t let yourself feel anything for me because you still thought you were married.”

  Oh, damn, damn. Why now?

  “I didn’t know he was screwing around on me. If he was. But you did. So you figured I should do it, too, is that it?”

  His hand closed on her shoulder. Squeezed, just a flex of his fingers. “I never thought that, Kat. I didn’t mean to kiss you. I wouldn’t have cheated on Rachel.”

  “Then what?” Kat whispered. “What?”

  “I went deaf and dumb. Not blind. I could see you. But…I couldn’t stop myself. I don’t know how else to explain. I couldn’t not take you in my arms.” He was still kneading her shoulder; with him so close, his ragged breath ruffled the tiny hairs at her nape. “I was sorry. Kissing you once made it worse. I hated myself for doing it.”

  Her eyes were glazed with tears, and she never cried. Never. “I hated you for doing it, too. I felt like a slut.”

  “Some things,” he said in that gruff but heartstoppingly tender voice, “can’t be denied. What I felt from the first time I saw you is one of them.”

  “And that makes it fine?”

  “No.” He heaved a deeper breath. “It doesn’t. It didn’t then. But I’ve been hoping like hell ever since that someday you’d forgive me.”

  It wasn’t him she hadn’t been able to forgive. It was herself. But telling him that would bare something she didn’t dare let see the light of day. The best she could do was lie.

  “I didn’t give it as much thought as you seem to think I did. I was mad, and I was upset with myself. What we’d done…it made it worse when Hugh disappeared. And when you were the one investigating his disappearance.”

  “I know it did.” His hand left her. “I wanted to find him dead in a way that made it plain you had nothing to do with his death. I wanted you to be a widow. You think that hasn’t haunted me?”

  The pain she heard made her turn so that she could see his face. “Your divorce wasn’t even final.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” That betraying muscle jerked in his cheek. “I felt like scum, but I wanted you too much not to think it was meant to be.”

  “I…didn’t know.”

  His gray eyes were turbulent. “Didn’t you?”

  Oh, Lord. She had known. Maybe not then. Then she’d
been consumed with bewilderment and grief. She’d been frantically trying to keep the business afloat, and it was all she could do to hold her head high despite the sudden pools of silence that were louder than whispers. But in the years since, Kat couldn’t deny she’d seen the way Grant looked at her sometimes. And although he’d never said a word, never made a move toward her, she’d known that if she had ever quit turning away when he approached, he would have made that move. And she’d been afraid of what she’d feel if he did.

  “Not then,” she whispered. “Later, I wondered.”

  “Every time you rebuffed me, it sliced me to the bone.”

  “I don’t understand.” She’d already said that, hadn’t she? She didn’t understand anything anymore. Why people did what they did, why they felt what they did. Why she felt what she did.

  “This is no time to be having this conversation,” Grant said roughly.

  “No.”

  “But we are. Kat…” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You did kiss me back, didn’t you? You felt it, too.”

  God help her. “Yes.”

  With a groan, he gripped her upper arms and pulled her close. Even before their bodies collided, she was reaching for him. Her mouth claimed his as much as his did hers. The kiss was deep and hungry and desperate, just as the one four years ago had been.

  Kat hadn’t let herself think about that kiss, and she’d wanted another one more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  Teeth, tongue and lips. The slam of his heartbeat and the moan that escaped her. The hard length of his body against hers. The hand he’d plunged into her hair to cradle her head and tilt the angle to suit him. She was all sensation, all longing and urgency and need.

  But he did raise his head eventually. Panting, they stared at each other, and Kat remembered. Only three days ago, her dead husband’s skeletal hand had been given back to her. And this man, the one holding her, still harbored more than a niggling doubt about her innocence in Hugh’s disappearance.

  She let her hands drop from Grant’s chest and scooted sideways out of his reach. He took a step after her.

  “That wasn’t a good idea,” Kat told him.

  He stopped. The heat in his eyes cooled even as she watched. “No,” he finally said. “I guess it wasn’t. It was inevitable, though, Kat. And it will happen again.”