Authors: Kylie Brant
Waking Evil 02 (55 page)
“Ramsey.”
She turned at Dev’s voice, immediately concerned by his expression.
“What is it?”
He drew her away from the group. “I heard one of the deputies say he’d just come from Rose Thornton’s place. She’s been found dead.”
It took a moment to make sense of the words. “Not murdered.”
He shook his head, his expression a little dazed. “No. But Ramsey . . . they say she’s been dead at least three months.”
“It’s impossible.” Dusk was falling as they made their way toward Rose’s property, avoiding the emergency vehicles in the rutted overgrown drive. “You just didn’t remember what she looked like and we were talking to someone else, that’s all. You said yourself you hadn’t seen her for years.”
“It was her,” he said flatly. “Her that we talked to at her place. It was Rose that I spoke to on the road the night she warned me you were in danger. I’m tellin’ you, they’re carrying the wrong body out of that cabin. It’s not Rose’s.”
The medics were carrying out a stretcher holding a long black-zippered bag. Dev stopped the car behind a state police vehicle and Ramsey got out. Jogged over to the stretcher. Flashing her temporary badge, she said, “I’d like to ID the victim.”
“That’s already been done, ma’am.”
“I need to see for myself.”
The two medics looked at each other. Shrugged. “Ain’t gonna be pretty,” one said as he reached down to partially unzip the top of the bag. “There were so many flies in that cabin we had to go out and get masks.”
It wasn’t the sight of the partially eaten away remains of the face that had Ramsey taking a step back. It was the fact that she recognized it.
Dev slipped an arm around her waist as the medics continued toward the ambulance. “It’s impossible,” she said again, but weakly this time. “How can that be? We saw her. We talked to her.”
“We thought we did.”
The emergency vehicles were starting to pull out. Dev pulled her toward the side of the house. Ramsey was still shaking her head as they made their way to the back of the cabin. “Maybe she hasn’t been dead as long as they think. Insects inflict a lot of damage. Closer examination might have the ME revising time of death.”
“But I’m tellin’ you, she was there on the road that . . .”
When his words halted, she turned to look at him. Followed the direction of his gaze to the area beyond the cabin’s back porch.
Rose was standing there. Floating, really. The woman she’d just seen in the body bag. In the same clothes she’d worn the one time Ramsey had met her.
It looked like Rose Thornton. But the image of her wavered at the edges, like a reflection in a clear pond. And in the next moment her image melded into that of a young woman in a high-necked buttoned-up gown. Her eyes were filled with sorrow.
“Ruth,” Dev breathed.
As if his voice banished it, her image trembled. Faded. And then there was nothing but the lights. Dancing balls of illumination that flickered and skipped across the yard. Burning bright and brighter. Over the garage. Above the brush. Into the woods before they vanished.
“Shit.” She was holding on to Dev’s arm so tight she had to be hurting him, but Ramsey couldn’t bring herself to let go. “What the hell was that? What
was
that?”
was
that?”
“That,” he released a shaky breath, his voice filled with a wonder she was far from mirroring, “was one of those things that can’t be explained by science. I have a feeling the residents of Buffalo Springs have seen the last of the red mist.”
Her mind was still grappling with implications she couldn’t let herself fathom. He turned her to face him. “See, that’s what I’ve been sayin’.” The curve of his lips was belied by the serious light in his eyes. “You can’t analyze everythin’ in this world. Some things you just have to accept for what they are. For what they could be.”
Her voice was shaky. “I think someone told me that once.”
Dev nodded. “Sounds like a wise man. Here’s some facts for you to think ’bout. We both do some travelin’, but when I’m writin’, I can do that ’bout anywhere. I’m not fussy ’bout where I live.” His smile hadn’t faded. Neither had the intensity in his gaze. “I
am
fussy ’bout who I live with. Guess I’m hopin’ you’re not quite as fussy, ’cuz I’d like to be livin’ with you.”
am
fussy ’bout who I live with. Guess I’m hopin’ you’re not quite as fussy, ’cuz I’d like to be livin’ with you.”
She sensed he was feeling his way with her. Offering only as much as it took to keep her from running like hell. Away from what he offered. Away from what he wanted.
Her palms dampened. There was a hammering in her heart. A thundering in her ears. “I’m not a good bet.”
“Honey, I chase ghosts for a livin’. You’re the one takin’ a risk here.”
A laugh escaped at that, although she knew it wasn’t true. Of the two of them, she was the one terrified to disappoint. Terrified that whatever she gave could never be enough.
But when she looked at him, she knew what her answer would be. Because whatever else she felt, the biggest fear that loomed was elicited by the thought of never seeing him again.
“I’ve taken the easy way most of my life. Easier not to feel anything at all. What I feel now, for you . . .” She drew in a breath. “It scares me to death. But the thought of losing it, losing you, scares me even more.”
The bruises on his face still lingered, but it was the pure joy in his expression that had her heart stuttering. “We’ll take it slow,” he promised, his head lowering to hers. “How do you feel ’bout namin’ our firstborn after my daddy?”
She started, the panic at peak alert, until she saw the wicked light in his eyes. “We’ll take it slow,” Ramsey repeated firmly.
But as her lips met his, she knew that she was going to find a way to accept every last thing Dev was offering.
And offer him the same.
Turn the page for a preview of the third book in Kylie Brant’s exciting Mindhunters series
WAKING THE DEAD
Available November 2009 from Berkley Sensation!
Seven stainless steel gurneys were lined up in the morgue, each occupied by a partially assembled skeleton and a large garbage bag. The bones gleamed under the fluorescent lights. At the base of the last gurney was a heap of stray bones that had been found lying separately. Caitlin Fleming’s first thought was that they looked forlorn. Deprived of their dignity, until they could be rejoined to form the remnant of the person they’d once belonged to.
Her second thought was that without the skulls, the chances of identifying those persons decreased dramatically.
“What do you think?” Sheriff Marin Andrews demanded. Her booted feet sounded heavily as she walked from one gurney to the next. “The bones were pretty much loose in the bags, but the medical examiner made an attempt to reassemble them. We brought out the bones scattered on the bottom of the cave floor in a separate body bag. Recovery operation was a bitch, I’m telling you. The cave branches off from the original vein, gets wider and higher. Then it drops off to a steep chamber about seven feet down. These were probably dumped from above into that chamber.” She must have caught Cait’s wince, because she added, “We had an anthropologist from the university supervise the removal process.”
Cait nodded. She was rarely brought onto a case in time to help process the crime scene. But that didn’t stop her from questioning what might have been destroyed or overlooked in the recovery. “I’ll want to see the cave.”
Andrews’s expression first revealed shock, then amusement. “Fortunately for you, that won’t be necessary. It’s on the face of Castle Rock and not easily accessible. Either you climb down from the top, or you scale upwards nearly eight hundred feet. There are trails, of course, but they could be tricky for an inexperienced climber. We don’t need an injury on our hands before we even get started.”
“I’m not inexperienced.” Cait knew exactly what the sheriff saw when she looked at her. It was, after all, the appearance she’d cultivated for well over a decade. But her days on the runways of New York, Milan, and Paris were long behind her. She was as comfortable these days in a room exactly like this one as hiking in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
The other woman shrugged. She was probably about fifteen years Cait’s senior. Her looks were nondescript. A sturdy build filling out a beige uniform. Close-cropped light brown hair and hazel eyes. But Cait knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceiving. Marin Andrews had a reputation for being an excellent, if ambitious cop. And that ambition, along with her father’s millions, were rumored to be priming her for a chase to the governor’s mansion.
Cait’s help in solving this case would provide a stepping-stone to that end.
“Figured you’d want to see the area, anyway. That forest fire in the eastern Cascades has depleted the personnel at the forestry stations, but we’ve hired Zach Sharper to stay available during the course of the investigation. He’s the outdoors guide who found the bodies. Said he was preparing for a client who wanted to spelunk some out-of-the-way caves, so Zach explored a few off the beaten path. Thought he’d discovered a new one when he stumbled on this.” Andrews waved a hand at the skeletons. “He runs a outfitting company. Rafting, kayaking, mountain climbing, hiking, that sort of thing.” The assessing look in her eye said better than words that she didn’t believe Cait’s assertion of her outdoor experience. “He’s also on the search and rescue team when campers and hikers go missing. He’s got some rough edges, but he’s supposed to be the best in the state.”
“I can handle rough edges.” Cait walked around the gurneys to peer more closely at the nearly identical junctures where the skulls had been separated from each skeleton. She looked around then, spotted a magnifying loupe on a set of metal shelves in the corner, and retrieved it before continuing her examination.
“The guy from the university said it looked like a knife or saw was used to decapitate them.”
Cait moved to another gurney to peer at the vertebra. “I’d say a saw. With luck I may be able to narrow the type down for you.” Straightening, she scanned the remains lined up on the stainless steel tables. “You’ve got four men and three women, but I suspect the medical examiner told you that.”
“He did. He also tried, and failed, to find a cause of death for any of them. But this thing is way out of his league and he knows it. He’s a pathologist, not a forensic anthropologist. When I saw what we had here, I immediately thought of Raiker Forensics. Adam Raiker assures me you’re the best in this field.”
Cait used the loupe to take a close look at the femur of the second skeleton. The guy had suffered a fracture to it at some point in his life. It had knit cleanly, suggesting certain medical attention. “I am,” she responded absently. She looked up then to arrow a look at Andrews. “My assistant will be arriving at dawn tomorrow with our equipment. Will this facility remain available to us?”
“It will. The building is less than a year old and state of the art.” The look of satisfaction stamping the sheriff’s face told Cait better than words that the other woman had been a driving force behind the new morgue. “Anything you need, talk to the Lane County medical examiner. His name is Steve Michaels. You’ll have to meet him tomorrow.” Cait followed the direction of the woman’s gaze to the clock on the wall. Eight P.M. And she’d left home at six in the morning in order to catch her flight from Dulles. Weariness was edging in, warring with hunger.
“I’ve arranged two rooms for you and your assistant at the Landview Suites here in Eugene. You’ve rented a vehicle?”
“Picked it up at the airport.” The compact SUV looked perfect for the ground she’d be covering in the course of this investigation. “I’d like all the maps you can provide for the area. Roads, forests, surrounding towns . . .” A thought struck her then and she looked at the other woman. “And thanks for arranging for the weapon permit so quickly.” Raiker refused to let any of his consultants work without one.
Andrews lifted a shoulder. “Your boss made it clear that condition wasn’t up for discussion. I doubt you’ll need it. These bones may have been in that cave for decades. Even if foul play is determined, the unknown subject is probably long gone by now. The threat should be minimal.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. It certainly doesn’t take decades for a corpse to be reduced to a skeleton. In some climates it’d be a week if the body were left out in the elements. In Oregon it’d take several weeks or months, depending on where the body’s dumped, the season, the temperature, insect and animal access. Maybe you’re right and these bones have been there for that long. But not necessarily.”
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