Buried Evidence

by Kellie VanHorn

  Mary reappeared from the kitchen and deposited a mug of frothy coffee with cream on the table. The smell was enough to ease the tension in his shoulders. “It’s decaf hazelnut.”

  “Perfect.” He took a sip of the hot liquid, waving goodnight to his mother as she left the room.

  “Thank you, Mary,” Laney added.

  “Goodnight, kids,” she said.

  The same words she’d used all the time back when they were kids. He met Laney’s gaze to see a hint of laughter playing on her lips, and yet she fiddled with her mug as if she was embarrassed.

  He cleared his throat. “So, I’ve got an APB out on the suspect for tonight, and we’ll send in a team at first light to double check the woods around here. Hopefully some leads will turn up.”

  She nodded, then stared down into her mug.

  His fingers itched with the urge to take her hand, so instead, he took another sip of coffee. “Can you tell me what happened? In detail? Anything you can remember might help.”

  He listened as she slowly recounted how she’d been studying the case files when she remembered the unlocked door. How she’d taken a poker from the fireplace instead of waking his father. How the door had been open and the man had jumped her right here, mere feet from where he now sat.

  Anger burned like fire inside his ribs, until he had to stand up. “Laney, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have gone back to the station. It was stupid to leave you here.”

  She shook her head wearily. “I wasn’t alone, Ryan. Your parents were here. I could’ve woken them up if I’d truly been concerned. I just... It was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”

  Using a clean dishtowel, he picked up the fireplace poker. A scratch marred the floor’s finish where it had struck the wood. Another scar to remember something awful. Why did life have to leave so many of them?

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, setting the poker carefully on the table. His law enforcement mind was already busy dusting it for prints, but the part of him that had never stopped caring about Laney could focus only on her. If he was being honest, his feelings for her were seeping through the wall he’d built around his heart like water through a cracked dam.

  How would he stay afloat if he fell for her again?

  From the way she was watching him now, eyes following his every move, maybe she still shared those feelings. Was there hope for them?

  Should there be, after the way she’d left so abruptly?

  But it wasn’t truly her fault. He was the one who’d let things change. Maybe the time had finally come to try to make things right.

  “Laney?” He almost lost his nerve when her brows lifted a touch and she swallowed. More open to him than she’d been in a decade. But a man had to do the right thing, especially when given another opportunity. “I need to apologize to you.”

  * * *

  Laney knew what was coming the second the words popped out of Ryan’s mouth. Maybe it was the way he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment or the way his eyes had softened as he looked at her. They were encroaching on dangerous territory, but she didn’t have the heart to stop him.

  She squirmed in her seat. “For what?”

  He stared down at his hands—so much stronger now than when he’d been a teenager. Man’s hands, capable of keeping her and so many others safe. “I think you know, but I’ll say it anyway. For that night the week before graduation. I never should’ve let things go that far.”

  Heat crept up her neck and into her face, making the tips of her ears burn. “We were kids, Ryan. And that took two people.”

  But he shook his head, lips pressed together. “Even not being a believer, I still knew better. You deserved my respect in that area of our relationship, and you didn’t get it. God, in His mercy, protected us from the big consequences, but it changed our relationship anyway. I’m sorry for that.”

  Her breath froze in her lungs, and she clenched a hand under the table. Now would be the right time to tell him the truth—that they almost had faced a life-altering consequence. That she’d come this close to becoming her mother. The single mom in the trailer park—though in her heart of hearts she knew Ryan would never have let her raise a child alone, even as a teenager.

  But how did one drop a secret like that on their ex-boyfriend? Especially when she’d miscarried the baby before she’d even reached eight weeks?

  No, she hadn’t told him then, and she didn’t need to tell him now. Some secrets were better left buried.

  It took effort to relax her hand and reach for her mug of tea again. Only dregs were left in the bottom. She swirled them around, watching the golden liquid dance across the white ceramic. “I’m sorry too. I’m sorry all of it worked out the way it did.”

  “Why did you leave?” He tilted his head to one side, watching her, his gaze thoughtful. “Was it because of me?”

  “No.” Liar. She sighed. After how much he’d gone through for her in the last few days, could she really lie right to his face? “And yes. After what happened between us...and all those plans we had for the future...I got scared. I didn’t want to end up alone in a trailer park.”

  And I couldn’t face your family after I told Jenna to go out alone that day. Even now, the thought of how much the truth would hurt them... It was unbearable.

  A muscle ticked in his jaw until he let out a long breath. “You know I would never have let that happen, don’t you?”

  “I know. But we don’t always make the best decisions as teenagers, do we?”

  “No, we don’t.”

  She offered him a smile, waving a finger at his uniform. “You turned out the way I always imagined you would.”

  “Financially soluble and ruggedly handsome, with killer biceps?” He winked as he flexed an arm, revealing impressive muscles beneath his shirt sleeve.

  “More or less.” She laughed. “And me? Other than the short hair, am I what you imagined?”

  His expression shifted, the laughter fading into something more subdued. Deeper, as if he were tapping into a connection between them that could outlast time itself. “No, Laney. You are so much more—more alive, stronger, more accomplished—”

  “Or do you mean ambitious?” She smirked, but he wouldn’t be derailed from the serious turn of his conversation.

  “More beautiful than ever. Inside and out.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. How could he think so highly of her after the way she had treated him?

  Reality intervened before her feelings got carried away. No matter how attractive Ryan was now, no matter how many feelings still simmered between them, nothing could happen. Not with the secrets she still kept. She was heading back to the Smithsonian and her job as soon as this case was over.

  “Ryan, I...”

  Her expression must’ve said it all, because when he smiled, his eyes looked sad. “It’s been a long night, Laney. You need some rest. I’m going to double check the locks on the window in your room, and then I’ll sleep up here on the couch. Just in case anybody tries to break in again.”

  “Thank you.” Truth was, she’d feel a thousand times better knowing he was close at hand. No one else had ever had the ability to make her feel as safe. Or cared for. Or loved. Stop it, she chided herself.

  He stood, and when he offered his hand, it felt natural to let him pull her to her feet with her nose inches away from his broad chest. Closer than they’d been in a long time.

  Before she could object, he wrapped both arms around her and tugged her into an embrace. She melted into his warmth and comfort, feeling as at home in his arms as she had with his mother at the dining table. Alarm bells in her head told her to step away, but surely a moment wouldn’t hurt? After all, she’d been through a traumatic couple of days.

  “I know you’re going home soon,” he said, his chin lowered to the top of her head. “And I know our lives have gone i
n different directions and we don’t want anything to happen between us. But I’m not going to lie about how good it is to see you again, Laney.”

  She swallowed, pulling her head back from his chest to look up at him. “It’s good to see you too.” Her voice came out far weaker than it should have.

  His eyes roamed her face for another second before he released her and stepped away. Her back felt suddenly cold without his arms. He tipped his head in the direction of the guest room. “Come on. Time for you to go to bed.”

  As she followed him down the hallway, Laney couldn’t stop replaying his words in her mind. We don’t want anything to happen between us. Neither could she help noticing the disappointment nudging at her heart at the thought he was content without her in his life.

  ELEVEN

  Laney blinked awake at the buzzing sound coming from the nightstand. She groped for her phone and pried open her sleepy eyes to find a text from the Smithsonian. The package containing the remains had arrived. Her colleagues said they’d dive into the analysis right away.

  She flopped onto her back, groaning in pain as her muscles protested. Apparently that struggle last night had cost her more effort than she’d realized. Her throat was tender and bruised, too, from the assailant’s arm wrapped around her neck. A constant reminder that if they didn’t catch him soon, she might experience far worse. Shuddering, she glanced at the time on her phone and jerked upright.

  It was nearly 8:00 a.m. Ryan had let her sleep way too long, considering the way this case kept growing out of control, like a tumor. She flung back the covers and threw on some clothes—the same too-long blue jeans and black shirt as yesterday, thanks to her limited wardrobe. Somehow, heading to a department store to shop didn’t feel important at the moment.

  After brushing her teeth in the guest bathroom and running a comb through her unruly hair, she grabbed her laptop and headed out to the living room. The couch was empty, but a pile of messy blankets indicated Ryan had been sleeping there not too long before.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” He stood in the kitchen, holding a coffee cup and leaning against the island, one long leg casually crossed over the other. Instead of his uniform, he wore a pair of blue jeans and a dark gray CrossFit T-shirt that complemented his dark eyes...and explained where all those muscles had come from. Maybe she’d been staring a little too long, because he added, “Technically it’s my day off. But I figured you wouldn’t want to relax around here all day.”

  “No, not after last night.” Her voice came out a bit too high. Must be time for coffee. She snatched a mug from the cabinet and made a beeline for the Keurig on the opposite counter. Selecting a K-Cup from the rack bought her a few precious moments to compose herself. It wasn’t the memory of last night’s attack that was so unsettling—it was thinking about being wrapped up in Ryan’s arms. There was no doubt they’d reconnected and bridged one of the gaps between them, but she hadn’t expected it to affect her this way. Like an open door for all the old emotions.

  “How are you feeling?” He didn’t move, but she could almost imagine the warmth and strength emanating from him if he walked over to her.

  Foolish thoughts. She rolled her shoulders. “Stiff, but I slept well.” After starting the coffee maker, she faced him and leaned against the counter, nearly mimicking his pose. “I might have a bit of bruising on my trachea too. For a moment there last night, I thought he might strangle me.”

  Ryan pushed away from the kitchen island without a moment’s hesitation and crossed the gap between them. Warm fingers lifted her chin, tilting her face one way and then the other as he inspected her neck. His jaw muscles tightened, and when he released her, his eyes burned. “We need to have a doctor examine you. To document the evidence.”

  “Sure, if you think it’ll come up in court.” When the coffee maker clicked off, she took the steaming cup and stirred in sugar. “There’s something I need to go over with you about the Wilson case anyway. I’d like to see the transcripts of the trial.”

  “Not without breakfast, you two,” Mary called from the table. “I’ve got cold cereal and yogurt out here, or you can toast a bagel.”

  The curtains in the breakfast nook were back to their usual innocuous arrangement, tied off on either end of the sliding door. Only the pair of police officers down at the tree line indicated anything out of the ordinary had happened.

  At Laney’s questioning glance, Ryan explained, “They got here an hour ago. We processed the inside first—” he waved an arm around the breakfast area “—but didn’t find anything. Now they’re out back with my father, trying to retrace the route the man took to get into the yard. We’ll analyze the fireplace poker just in case the assailant left prints.”

  After a quick bowl of cereal and a visit to a physician’s office, Ryan drove them back to the police station.

  “It’s starting to feel like a second home in here,” Laney joked as she followed him to his desk. She could even greet the other officers by name.

  “Don’t get too attached. We don’t have the budget to hire a forensic anthropologist of your caliber.” The twinkle in his eye suggested he was joking, and yet Laney couldn’t help wondering if deep down he wanted her to go back to DC. Were those feelings from last night all in her head?

  She laughed it off anyway, because it was better this way. They’d agreed nothing would happen between them for a reason. Before Ryan could grab a chair for her, she helped herself, rolling it over to his desk.

  He turned on the computer and clicked through a series of screens to pull up the file she wanted. “The transcripts from the Wilson trial... Here you go. This document is hundreds of pages long, though. What are you looking for, exactly?”

  “You said Wilson insisted on his innocence, right?”

  “Yeah. He pleaded not guilty.”

  “Did the possibility of him being framed come up in the trial?”

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “You found something, didn’t you? Spill.”

  She laid her laptop on the desk, opening to the key photographs she’d sorted last night. “Here are pictures of the inferior or lower end of the right femur of each victim. The killer used some implement—presumably the knife from Wilson’s kitchen—to separate the leg above the patella.” She inhaled a slow breath, tapping the gallery app on her phone. Waiting to see Ryan’s reaction. “Here’s a picture I took yesterday morning. From Jenna’s remains.”

  He glanced back and forth between the phone and the laptop screen, the color slowly siphoning out of his face. “They’re the same.”

  “Yes.” She held up her hand. “There are a couple of possibilities here, though. One is that our soft identification of the remains from the bog as Jenna isn’t correct. They could still be your other cold case from a year later, making this one of Wilson’s victims. Alternatively...”

  “Wilson was framed, and there’s a serial killer on the loose.” He rubbed both hands over his face, then leaned back in his chair, staring at the corkboard over his desk. Jenna smiled back at them, her face just as Laney remembered.

  “I want to know if Wilson accused anyone else in the trial. Maybe when he was on the stand. Did he claim anyone specific was framing him?” She pointed at the monitor. “Can you search the transcript?”

  The keyboard clacked beneath his fingers as he typed into the search field. Together they scanned the highlighted passages in silence, looking for anything useful.

  Nothing. When his defense attorney had tried to guide Wilson into explaining how he’d been set up, the prosecutor objected. Question lacks foundation. Speculation. The judge had agreed. No names were given.

  “Let’s try the lawyer,” she said. “He’d know what Wilson intended to say.”

  It took a minute for Ryan to find the firm’s phone number and place the call. He put the phone on speaker so she could hear. An office assistant answered and let them know the attorney wasn’t
available at the moment. Ryan left a message.

  “Hopefully he’ll get back to us ASAP.”

  Laney sucked the inside of her lip. “What about Wilson? He’s at Indiana State Prison, right? Can we get an interview?”

  Ryan balled his hand into a fist and tapped it gently on the desktop. “Wilson’s dead. I never got the chance to tell you, but I spoke to the warden last night. He was killed in the yard two months ago.”

  “How convenient.” She pressed her lips together.

  “You’re thinking the killer is behind his death too?”

  She shrugged. “It’s all conjecture. But you said it’s been two years since the last disappearance here. Maybe after framing Wilson, your serial killer planned on ending his spree. Only now he’s realized he can’t stop, and he wanted to shut Wilson up permanently beforehand.”

  “There’s definitely a motive. It’d have to be someone who knew Wilson.”

  “Makes sense, given they ‘borrowed’ one of his kitchen knives a few different times.” She wrinkled her nose.

  Ryan nodded. “Okay, I can see that. I’ll contact the prison again to get a list of anyone who had contact with Wilson from the outside. Maybe the killer kept tabs on him. We can also dig for information on his personal life from before the trial.”

  Without waiting for a response, he picked up the phone again and tapped out a number, then pressed the receiver to his ear. She only half listened as he asked for the warden and was placed on hold.

  None of this explained why the killer was still targeting her. Sure, they wanted to cover their tracks and avoid being identified, but the remains were already en route to the Smithsonian. There wasn’t any reason to go after her now.

  Unless...there was more to Jenna’s original disappearance than she knew. Jenna had been her best friend. They were almost always together. If Jenna’s death was premeditated, had Laney been a target too? Was the killer hoping to finish the job?

  Such a horrible thought. A shiver worked its way up her back until Ryan took one of her hands into his.