Buried Alive (Buried #1)

“We never discussed it. To this day, my sister and I haven’t talked about what might have happened. It’s as if Keith never existed.”

“That’s a shame. One should never forget a family member.” He swallowed hard.

Before she had a chance to question him back, Hunter pulled the photos of the woman toward him and placed them in a folder. “Did you decide to help other victims locate their relatives so they wouldn’t have to suffer like you did?”

Kerry nearly lost her breath as her stomach did a little somersault. “Yes.”

Hunter reached out and squeezed her hand. Even though heat rushed up her arm, she shuttered her emotions. “Then we will find out the names of these women. You have my word.”



Answer the damn phone. He paced outside Kerry’s lab, debating if he should do something with the bones—like steal them.

“Yeah?” Loud mall-like voices sounded in the background.

Leaning against the cold, cement wall, he checked to make sure no one was within close range. “They found the bodies,” he whispered.

“What bodies?”

“What do you mean what bodies?” With Kerry gone for the day, he punched in the code to enter.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” A young child screamed in the background.

“Apparently, the dirt washed away one of the bodies and the cops got wind of it. Our office was called in, along with some new forensic anthropologist who unearthed all four bodies.”

“Shit. Did he learn anything?”

“It’s a she. After seven months I’m not sure what she’ll find. Two of the women are in autopsy. Kerry, the anthropologist, sent DNA from one of the women to FDLE today. It’s only a matter of time before they come up with something.” His grip tightened on the phone. “You said you were careful.”

“I can assure you I didn’t leave any evidence if that’s what you’re implying.”

He strode around the lab and checked the two bodies Kerry had stored in the cooler. Would the bones talk to her? “What do you want me to do?”

“Watch the anthropologist. If she gets too close, kill her.”





4





Kerry kneaded her lower back after she eased out of her car. She stood on the street, hands on her hips and studied the three extra cars blocking her grandfather’s driveway.

Duh. How could she have forgotten? Thursday night was poker night. Oh, joy. That meant she wouldn’t get any more sleep tonight than she had last week. Grandpa’s old cop friends didn’t know when to stop.

She searched through the hidden treasures in her purse until she located her house key. If she entered through the back door, she might be able to sneak in unnoticed. That wasn’t very nice of her, but she wasn’t in the mood to socialize with Grandpa’s friends after trying to piece together the bones of dead females all day. Tonight’s newscast had reported the discovery of the bodies, but thankfully, the details had been sparse. If these nosy men learned what she’d been working on, they’d ask a gazillion questions, conveniently forgetting an ongoing investigation meant her lips needed to remain sealed.

She rotated the kinks out of her aching shoulders before heading around back. The sweet smell of night blooming jasmine rode on the humid air. After all the formaldehyde and dead flesh she’d sniffed, it was good to realize she could smell something this aromatic.

She prayed John could come up with a clue to help identify the four women lying on the morgue tables. If the stars lined up, Detective Markum would have a list of missing people for her by tomorrow and someone would have closure.

Kerry peeked though the kitchen window. No Grandpa. Good. She slipped inside. As she pulled the door closed, the dog’s nails scratched against the wood floor. He was coming her way. Crap. Buster barked.

“Shh.” As if telling her grandfather’s Jack Russell Terrier to keep quiet would do any good. Buster was a born yapper. Kerry dropped to her haunches and scratched the rambunctious dog behind his ears, and he quieted. “That’s a good boy.” She could only hope her grandfather had been so engrossed in his card game he hadn’t heard the frenetic alert.

“Hi, Kerry,” her grandfather said.

Guess not.

“Hi, Grandpa.” She stood and the stiffness in her back warned her she needed to find a Pilates studio soon. Nothing better than strong abs to help a weak back.

“You’re late. I was worried about you.”

“You of all people should understand how hard it is to work on a case and keep regular hours.”

God only knows he’d put Nana through intense misery every time he didn’t show up for dinner on time. It was no wonder she died of a heart condition. Nana had made her promise not to marry a cop, unless she wanted to be a young widow. Life was tough enough, she preached, without the agony of wondering when she’d hear the bad news her husband was dead.

“I do, I do.” Grandpa stepped back and ran his gaze up and down the length of her. “You don’t look so good,” he said before sniffing the air in exaggeration. “You don’t smell so good either. Tough day at the lab?”

“I’m fine, Grandpa.”

He snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. Your sister called for you tonight.” Grandpa averted eye contact. “Twice.”

The muscles in her neck locked. “What did she want?”

“You know what. You can’t avoid Susan forever, you know.”

Wanna bet?



Hunter grimaced as the new intern, Gina Andries, joined him and Phil at the conference table. Too bad her uncle, aka, Hunter’s boss, hadn’t briefed her on the dress code. The woman looked like she was interviewing for Vice rather than Homicide.

Her straight black leather skirt came to mid thigh, and her too tight top showed more skin than was good for her in an office made up of eighty-five percent men. Fortunately, she had the body to carry off the sexy, slutty look. Her straightened black hair and large hoop earnings reminded him of Lara Croft on a mission to meet, or maybe kill, a man. On the upside, Hunter welcomed more African American women to the force.

At least Kerry Herlihy had dressed appropriately at the crime scene. Now there was a class act.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hunter watched his partner’s jaw slacken and his eyes widen at Gina’s slim body. Christ, Phil didn’t need to lose focus this early in the case. Hunter could only hope his partner wasn’t thinking of doing something stupid, like getting involved with the boss’s niece.

She leaned over the table and stuck out her hand. “My bad. Where are my manners? I’m Gina Andries, Jack Andries’ niece. But I’m sure you already know that.”

Hunter and Phil exchanged greetings with her. Yes, they knew. Her uncle had given them a rundown. Gina was a big health nut, a stickler for details and hard headed.

They’d also been given strict orders to make sure Gina understand how tough it was to be a cop. Their mission? Convince her to return to teaching high school history. In Jack Andries’ opinion, his brother’s little girl didn’t have what it took to be a cop.

Jack went so far as to suggest one way to dissuade her was to make her understand how rough things could get—with one caveat. She was only allowed to go on ride alongs where she couldn’t be hurt.

As if he and Phil could control every situation. Thugs pulled guns on them all the time. If nothing bad happened, how would that dissuade her from joining the force?

God this was a bad idea. If something went wrong and Gina got injured, or God forbid killed, the legal ramifications boggled Hunter’s mind. Hunter had failed to convince his boss this whole interning stuff was not only not department sanctioned, but it was way too dangerous. Too bad Jack wouldn’t budge. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that was all there was to it.

Gina leaned forward. “I want to thank both of you for helping me get my start in the department.”

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