Stone Cold Heart

by Laura Griffin

  “Not everyone.” He paused, and she waited for him to explain. “I left Austin PD under a cloud of suspicion. There were some allegations being investigated by Internal Affairs.”

  She stopped and looked up at him, surprised. “Were they legit?”

  “No. IA cleared me.”

  “Good.”

  He looked away, and it seemed like there was more he wanted to say on the topic, but she didn’t want to pry. Still, she was curious. What sort of “suspicion”? She wanted him to open up to her. But intimacy was a two-way street, and if he opened his life to her, he’d expect her to do the same.

  Nolan shook his head. “This case has been hard on everyone. I intend to solve it. People need answers—although I don’t think they’re going to like what I find.”

  Sara eased closer. “How do you mean?”

  “Well, you’ve probably heard the rumors. A lot of people think Kaylin was kidnapped by a transient. A tourist. Some evil stranger passing through. But I believe he’s local.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve got a gut feeling about it.”

  Sara watched him in the darkness. “People never want to believe there is evil and cruelty in their midst. They never want to think people they see day to day, people they trust, are capable of inflicting pain and suffering.”

  He nodded. “The folks around here are proud of this town. It’s friendly and scenic. People look out for each other.”

  “Except when they don’t.”

  “That’s right.”

  He stared down at her for a long moment. Then he started walking again, sweeping the flashlight over the rocky ground, and Sara fell in alongside him.

  Nolan halted. “Hey, look.” He took a few paces and crouched down. “Shine that light this way.”

  She aimed the UV light at something beside the rock, a scrap of white fabric. Excitement flitted through her as she stepped over.

  “Looks like a T-shirt,” he said.

  “Don’t touch it.”

  Nolan shot her a look. “Wasn’t planning to.”

  Sara unzipped her pack and took out a pair of latex gloves. She passed one to him and pulled on the other.

  “It’s stuck under the rock, looks like,” Nolan said.

  Sara took out her camera and a ruler for scale. After snapping a few photos, she moved the rock aside and picked up the garment. As suspected, it was a T-shirt. It had been white originally, but now the fabric was dirty and stiff, too crunched up to read the lettering on the front.

  “I’ve got an evidence envelope in my truck,” Nolan said.

  “I’ve got one here.” Sara pulled a folded envelope from her bag, and Nolan opened it so she could drop the shirt inside.

  “It might not be hers,” she said.

  “True.” Nolan stood up. “Then again, it might.”

  Sara stood up and looked around. Then they combed the ground for another half hour but saw no more evidence. After scouring the entire creek bed, they headed back to the parking lot. They didn’t talk, just made their way silently up the steep path. By the time they reached the top, Sara was breathing hard and in need of another shower. Nolan wasn’t even winded. She still didn’t know what he did for exercise, but he was in excellent shape.

  “I’ve got some water,” he said when they reached the lot.

  Sara followed him to his pickup. He popped his locks and reached across the front seat for a bottle of water. She set down her backpack and the evidence envelope so she could unscrew the lid and take a gulp.

  “Any chance you can run the shirt back at your lab?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She watched his eyes. “You don’t want to run it through the state crime lab?”

  “I’d just as soon get the results back this century.”

  Sara took another swig and passed him the bottle. He set it on the hood.

  “We’ll run it for DNA, blood, anything we can find, but it might not belong to the victim.”

  “Then again, it might,” he repeated.

  She liked his optimism. The determination in his voice made her feel better about a case that was growing bleaker by the day.

  He stepped closer, peering down at her in the darkness. He slid his hand around her waist, and her heart started to sprint.

  “Nolan—”

  He kissed her. No hesitation. He just leaned down and settled his mouth over hers, silencing whatever she’d been about to say.

  She responded without thinking, and the instant she tasted him, she wanted more. He tasted sharp and masculine, a flavor she liked. Her hands slid up around his neck, and he made a low groan and pulled her closer. His fingers curved around her hips as she went up on tiptoes, pressing her breasts against his solid chest, and she realized they fit together perfectly, despite the height difference.

  His mouth was hot. Hungry. He dug a hand through her hair and tipped her head to get a better angle. He kissed her deeper, but still she couldn’t get enough of his taste and his scent and the hard feel of his body. Something inside her just reacted, like she’d been craving him without even knowing it.

  He eased back, blinking down at her, and she saw the surprise on his face. He started to say something, but she cut him off with another kiss. He felt so good. He pulled her against him and slid his hand over her breast, and she felt the delicious heat of it through her clothes.

  How how how had she gone so long without this?

  He jerked back suddenly.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” she asked, disoriented.

  “Sorry.” He eased her away from him, and she heard the faint squawk of a radio in his truck. He pulled the door open and grabbed the receiver. “Hess.”

  Sara turned away, not listening to the garbled response. She tugged down her tank top, which had ridden up, and brushed her hair from her eyes.

  She was at a crime scene. She was here to collect evidence, and instead she was kissing the lead detective on the case. What the hell was she doing?

  “Sorry.” He slammed the door and stepped over. “I have to go in.”

  “Of course. I’ll just . . .” Flustered, she bent down for her backpack and the evidence envelope. He bent to help her, and she bumped her head against his chin on the way up. “Ouch.”

  He held her arm to steady her and gazed down. “You all right?”

  “Yes, fine.” No, she wasn’t.

  “I’ll call you when I finish tonight.”

  “Don’t.”

  His eyebrows tipped up.

  “I’ll be asleep.” She stepped away, holding the backpack in front of her. “Early start tomorrow, seven A.M.”

  The radio in his truck started squawking again, and he turned and scowled at it.

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Sara—”

  “Good night.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Nolan was up with the sun. He downed some strong coffee and checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed anything overnight. Then he threw on his running clothes and stepped outside.

  His six-year-old neighbor sat on the steps of the porch next door. Emmett had his dog beside him and his feet propped on his skateboard. At the sound of Nolan’s screen door, the dog perked up and trotted over.

  Nolan waved at Emmett. The kid waved back.

  “Is your mom up?” Nolan asked, making sure to face him. Emmett was deaf, but he could sign and read lips. The boy pointed at the house, where his mother was probably making breakfast or getting ready for work.

  Lori Davies was a single mom. Like Nolan, she had inherited her house from a grandparent. Unlike Nolan, she still owed money on it, and she worked two jobs to keep up with the payments. She probably could have found something cheaper at one of the new apartment complexes, but that would mean giving up her yard and her rabbit hutch, and Emmett loved animals.

  Thor was sniffing around Nolan’s feet now, wagging his tail, as he sensed a run in his future.

  “Mind if I take Thor?”

&nb
sp; Emmett shook his head, and Nolan ducked back inside to grab the leash off the table by the door, where he also kept a pile of plastic bags for the two or three times a week he took the dog jogging.

  “Thirty minutes,” Nolan said, and Emmett waved.

  They set off at a brisk pace, with Thor close to Nolan’s side. Part greyhound, part mutt, the dog was lean and wiry. He had a lot of energy, and Lori was always glad for him to get some extra exercise.

  Nolan spent the first mile getting the kinks out. He hadn’t run all week, and his body felt it. He passed a park with a playscape and a basketball hoop. No suspicious people or vehicles. The place was deserted except for a lone guy using the chin-up bar.

  Nolan hung a left onto a winding road that hugged a creek. Giant cottonwoods offered shade, and the ground was covered in kudzu. Thor liked it down here, but Nolan had to keep the leash short so he wouldn’t dart into the brush.

  Nolan picked up the pace. His breathing settled into a rhythm, and he thought of Sara.

  He’d caught her off guard when he kissed her. It wasn’t something he really thought through—he just did it because she was gazing up at him, and it felt right. After a few seconds, she’d relaxed, and that was when things heated up. She’d responded with her whole body—her mouth, her arms, her hips—and he’d been so consumed he’d lost track of where he was. He’d lost track of everything but how much he wanted her.

  Nolan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so turned on, and it was a problem. Sara was far away, and not just in terms of geography. She had walls up. He’d sensed it from the beginning, although he didn’t know why. Getting her to open up wasn’t going to be easy.

  Not that he minded. Nolan liked a challenge. But this one came at a tough time. He wished he’d met Sara eighteen months ago, when the biggest thing on his plate had been a serial flasher going around town. Or even last fall, when he’d been working with a DEA task force closing in on a meth ring.

  What he had now was bigger. And personal, because of the Baird family. Even beyond that, it was personal because it threatened the very heart of his hometown. Nolan had made it his goal to help hold back the tide of drugs and violence and callousness plaguing the cities around him. For the first time since he’d moved back, Nolan saw the true scope of what he’d set out to do.

  The problem was he liked Sara. A lot. He liked the way she tasted. The way she felt. He liked the way his truck smelled like her after she’d ridden in it. And the attraction wasn’t just physical. He admired what she did, too, and how she did it. He’d come to understand that her careful, meticulous process wasn’t something meant to drive him crazy, even though it did. It was who she was. She was thorough and methodical and dedicated to her work. Last night was a case in point. She would leave no stone unturned—literally—in her search for answers. Sure, Nolan was dedicated to his work, too, but that was different. He knew these people. This was his home. Sara worked nights and weekends in the blazing sun, and she did it for perfect strangers because it was the right thing to do.

  Thor pulled at the leash, and Nolan reined him in. As his shoes pounded the asphalt, he thought of his last serious girlfriend. He and Michelle had gone from being partners at work to off-duty friends to having an intense sexual relationship that nearly ended Nolan’s career when she was brought up on corruption charges. Nolan thought of how naive he’d been then and how much he’d taken for granted. Growing up surrounded by people with integrity, he didn’t see when someone close to him didn’t have any. The whole thing had blindsided him. Michelle wasn’t who he’d thought she was, and her betrayal still felt like a gut punch.

  Never again. Next time he got involved, he was going in with eyes wide open.

  Nolan hung another left, taking a street that would loop back past the park. He sped up his pace, letting his thoughts wander, and, of course, they went to Sara. He thought about her mouth and her body and her fingers combing through his hair. The last mile was a blur, and then he was back at his house, sweaty and winded and greedy for the day. He took Thor inside, where he unhooked the leash and went to the kitchen to fill a bowl with water. The dog lapped it up as Nolan filled a glass for himself.

  His phone buzzed, and he recognized Sara’s number.

  “Hess.”

  “It’s me. Are you up?”

  Just the sound of her voice made his heart thud, and he knew he was in trouble.

  “I’ve been up,” he told her. “You said seven, remember?”

  “Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I got here at six.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The Sangria rock wall.”

  He put his glass down. “What’s wrong, Sara?”

  “You need to get out here.”

  • • •

  Sara heard him before she saw him. The low rumble of his truck moved past her, and he pulled onto the shoulder. Sara kept her gaze on the digital display, wishing the numbers would tell a different story.

  The truck door slammed. She turned around and saw he hadn’t wasted time shaving after she called.

  “What happened?” he asked gruffly.

  “I started at the wall. Sangria.” She nodded at the rock face that gleamed rosy-pink in the morning sun. “Maisy said that’s where Kaylin liked to climb.”

  Nolan didn’t even look. He was frowning down at the device in her hands.

  “When I was there, I noticed this bike trail I didn’t know was here. It’s not on the map.”

  Nolan looked over her shoulder now at the landscape behind her. Dirt had been shaped into steep mounds and ramps—an obstacle course for BMX bikes.

  “It’s soil, Nolan.” She stepped closer. “Not hard like the rest of the park. Everything else I’ve seen here is rock, but then there are these few acres of dirt. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  “What is that?” He nodded at the device in her hands.

  “Ground-penetrating radar. It picks up anomalies.”

  “Anomalies?”

  “Soil disturbances. Pockets of air, loose dirt.” She paused. “When a body decomposes, the tissue breaks down, creating a space underground.”

  He stared down at her, not even blinking.

  “You’re sure?” he asked.

  “Not yet. But the reading I’m getting is pretty indicative.”

  “You’re telling me you think there’s a body buried here?”

  “At least one, maybe more.”

  • • •

  Talia squeezed her unmarked sedan between two patrol cars. Nolan’s truck was across the street just beyond a black RV with the Delphi Center logo on the side.

  She got out and looked around, unnerved by the crop of blue tents that had sprouted overnight.

  “Talia.”

  She turned to see Nolan striding over. He had a phone pressed to his ear and latex gloves covering his hands.

  “Yeah, I know. She’s here now.” He ended his call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

  “What’s with all the tarps?” she asked.

  “Sara’s idea. She doesn’t want any more drone footage leaking out.”

  Talia glanced at the anthropologist, who was on her knees beside a pit, collecting something with a small tool. More people in blue coveralls worked a pit just a few feet away.

  Dread tightened Talia’s stomach as she looked at Nolan. “How many graves are we talking about?”

  “Two so far,” he said. “Did you get what we needed in San Antonio?”

  She held up a thumb drive. “You have a computer here?”

  “This way.”

  Nolan peeled off his gloves as he walked past her. He tromped up the stairs to the RV. Talia followed him inside and was smacked by a wall of cold air. The place was frigid. Aaron stood at a counter, tapping away on a laptop computer.

  “Nice digs,” she said.

  Aaron glanced up. “Welcome to our mobile laboratory, otherwise known as the Ice Hut.”

  “This computer free?” Nolan asked. Without waiting for an
answer, he sat down at a workstation tucked between a cabinet and a mini-fridge.

  “Help yourself.”

  Talia handed Nolan the thumb drive, then grabbed a rolling desk chair and pulled up beside him.

  “I got copies of all the reports, the interview transcripts, everything,” she said. “But the main thing you need to see is the video. Here, let me navigate.” She reached around him for the mouse and clicked open the only video file on the thumb drive.

  Grainy surveillance footage showed a bar parking lot. A neon sign within the frame said RICO’S.

  “This bar is on the north side of town, several blocks off I-35.”

  “Twenty-three fifty-two,” Nolan said, reading the time stamp at the bottom of the screen.

  “Watch,” Talia said.

  On the video, a line of people filed out of the bar, several not too steady on their feet. All were men. But then a woman stepped out.

  Nolan leaned closer.

  “That’s not her. Just wait.” Talia glanced up as Aaron left the RV. Quiet settled over the room. Nolan stared at the screen, and the only sound was the low hum of the refrigerator beside them. Talia had a sudden craving for something cold to drink.

  “Think they’d mind if I grab something?” She reached for the door.

  “They keep evidence in there.”

  “Ew. Never mind.”

  Nolan tapped the screen. “That’s her—the girl who just exited. Alicia Merino.”

  Talia leaned closer. “You’re good. I hardly recognized her. She doesn’t look like her driver’s license photo.”

  The woman had straight dark hair that trailed all the way down her back. She wore a sleeveless white shirt and a short black skirt that made her legs look long, even though the police report put her at five-two. Alicia had a phone in her hand, and she was texting away, not paying attention to her surroundings as people streamed in and out of the bar.

  “Watch what happens,” Talia said, though she didn’t have to. Nolan’s eyes were glued to the screen.

  Alicia glanced up from her phone. She said something to someone off camera, then shook her head. She looked down, then back up again. For a moment, she didn’t move or talk. And then she stepped forward, moving out of camera view.