A slow tingle pricked her hand, causing hope to surge. Concentrating, she moved her fingers. At least she thought something moved. Before she had enough time to test the rest of her body for movement, the back door whipped opened and a flashlight shone in her eyes, and blinded her.
“You want me to git her?” a stranger asked.
“Yes.”
Thrill shimmered in the doctor’s voice. Bastard.
“The paralytic should have worn off by now. You can breathe on your own.”
The doctor ripped out the tube, and Tameka sucked in a rasping breath. Her raw throat screamed as pulses of blood snaked up her body. She wanted to feel, wanted to move, wanted to escape.
“Here, let me help you out of those clothes. We don’t need any evidence left behind,” the stranger said.
He ripped out her earrings, tugged off her shoes, and stripped her bare. Tamika was helpless to stop him. He tossed the clothes into the back of the ambulance, and when he stepped back, the cool air rippled over her skin.
“Carry her up to the site.” The doctor’s voice dripped with anger.
Oh, please don’t rape me.
She couldn’t make out the face of the man who dragged her off the gurney, but he reeked of body odor and alcohol. He slung her over his shoulder and carried her up a long, dark path.
She couldn’t lift her head to see where he was taking her, but the pounding of another set of footsteps told her the doctor was right behind.
When the man flung her off his shoulder, she waited for the pain to rip up her spine when she landed, but instead, soft wet dirt slapped her back and head. Air whooshed out of her lungs. Dirt walls rimmed her body.
A grave? Noooo. Please, no.
She sucked in wisps of air. Her heart pounded full blast.
Tameka squeezed her eyes shut a split second before a shovel of dirt landed on her face. A scream of terror bubbled in her throat as another heap of earth landed on her chest. Her right arm twitched, but not enough to stop the soil from raining down on her.
Bless me Father, for I have sinned. Oh, how I have sinned.
Tameka tried to curl into a fetal position, to hide, but her muscles wouldn’t obey. Dirt splattered across her chest, but her numb mouth wouldn’t move to tell him to stop. Dear God, have mercy on me.
A shadow blocked the last rays of dusk.
“At least your child will never feel the back of a hand or the sting of a whip. Look how pathetic you are. Bruises. After all my work, you made yourself ugly again.”
He was wrong. She wasn’t ugly anymore. He’d made her beautiful. Her unborn child was beautiful.
He tossed another heap of dirt over her body, over her face, and over her legs. “You should thank me for putting you out of your misery.”
She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Needed air. More air.
Oh, God, forgive me. I don’t want to die.
1
Tampa, Florida
Fifteen months later
“The guy from the Environmental Protection Agency nearly tripped over the damned thing,” Homicide Detective Hunter Markum said as he slid from the sheriff’s cruiser he’d parked under a clump of pine trees.
His partner, Phil Tedesco, huffed. “That would take anyone’s breath away. Is he sure the head’s human?”
“We’re about to find out.”
His body still thrummed from the jerky ride to this woodsy patch of land, his back jarring with every bump. Hunter shaded his eyes against the bright Florida sun, rolled down his sleeves and searched for the man who’d called in his gruesome discovery.
Phil pointed to a portly, older gentleman picking his way down the dirt road two hundred feet away. “That him?”
The old man waved. “Hey.” A handkerchief over his mouth muffled his voice.
Hunter’s stomach roiled, the same as it did every time he had to face the dead. After all these years, he should be immune, but he wasn’t. “Must be.” He took a deep breath. “Here goes.”
As he and Phil strode toward the guy from the EPA, a white speedboat zoomed down the murky Hillsborough River, playing hide and seek with the dense foliage. The whirring and whining of the engine grated on his taut nerves.
Hunter returned his gaze to the elderly gentleman, who stumbled a few steps before he caught his balance. “Whoa. Watch yourself,” Hunter called out. Poor guy. Finding a skull out here would be enough to shake anyone up.
The moment the man reached them, he flashed an official-looking badge with shaky fingers. “Bill. Bill Ebsary.”
Hunter introduced himself and his partner. “Are you up to showing us what you found?”
“Sure.” Ebsary nodded. “I’ve been studying the land for over thirty years, and this is a first for coming across a body. Gave me the creeps.”
“I hear ya,” Hunter said. “Bill, you didn’t touch anything, did you?”
“Just brushed away the leaves, that’s all. Once I realized what I was looking at, I backed off and called you guys.”
Hunter glanced at the cloudless sky, thanking the gods for small favors. He waved a hand for Mr. Ebsary to lead the way. “What were you doing here anyway?”
The drug deal Hunter had investigated on this land last year filtered through his mind—along with the three dead teenage girls who’d died from overdosing.
“My job. The Altwood Company purchased this property a few weeks back. They plan to build a business complex here, but we have to make sure the land doesn’t need any more clean-up before we issue a permit.”
“And is it? Clean, that is?”
“Yes, sir. I was ready to sign off on this parcel and go home to grab a cold beer when I noticed this odd looking rock. Right over there.” He pointed to a nearby scrubby patch of weeds. “Let me show you.” He continued through the underbrush to the area.
A palmetto’s saber-sharp tip pricked Hunter’s arm and penetrated his long sleeves. Blood pooled up through his blue shirt. Damn.
“What led you over here?” Hunter said, pushing ahead.
Phil cursed as he tripped on a long brambly vine.
“The holes caught my eye,” Mr. Ebsary said. “After I moved the leaves, I had a near heart attack.”
Hunter knelt, careful not to touch anything as he studied the empty sockets of a human skull gaping back at him. His gut soured as he stared at the remains of what once was a living, breathing, human being. Who are you? Someone’s sister? Mom? Dad? A child’s parent? Someone’s spouse?
Don’t do this to yourself, Hunter. Stay detached, stay focused. These aren’t Denise’s bones.
Hunter took a deep breath but couldn’t smell a damn thing other than the damp soil and the scent of mild algae bloom coming off the river. He prayed he wasn’t growing desensitized to the smell of death after ten years on the force, but then again the body was skeletonized.
Hunter was almost positive the skull was human, but he still needed confirmation. Department rules.
Hunter studied Bill Ebsary. Poor guy looked pretty green around the gills. “Hey, Mr. Ebsary. Mind stepping back a bit?”
Hunter didn’t need him puking on the grave. Not a chance in hell the investigative gurus would find much evidence after all this time, but he owed it to this person to be thorough. Someone had to look out for the dead.
When Hunter stood, prickly plants stuck to his pants legs, but there was no use pulling them off. They were everywhere.
A rustling in the brushes caught his attention. He whipped around and reached for his gun, but he didn’t draw. A second later, a squirrel dashed through the leaves and stilled, no doubt as jittery as he was. Christ. He’d thought the sound might have come from another drug dealer. Get a grip.
Hunter stood. “We’ll need to call in our crime scene unit.”
Ebsary nodded.
Once they arrived, Hunter and Phil worked with the CSU for a good two hours doing a complete grid search of the area. The prickly vines tore holes in five pairs of his gloves, and the knees of his jeans were stained brownish red from the clay soil. They’d found nothing except beer bottles, cigarette butts, a couple of needles, condoms, and Styrofoam cups. Good thing someone bought this parcel. It might cut down on future crime.
His cell rang. It was John Ahern, the deputy Medical Examiner. Hunter spoke to him for a moment, and then disconnected before finding Phil. “M.E.’s finally on his way.”