Kerry rushed back into her lab with a Tampa phone book she’d borrowed from the reception desk. “Knock yourself out.” She tossed the heavy tome on the desk and it landed with a thud.

Hunter chuckled at her antics and looked up the number for Tameka’s surgeon. An expert in facial reconstruction, Dr. Paul Dalton was a renowned plastic surgeon.

Hunter dialed the office in the hopes of setting up an appointment with Dalton.

“Dr. Dalton’s office, how may I help you?” a sweet-voiced female answered.

He asked to speak with the doctor, and she told him Dr. Dalton was doing consulting work at the River of Hope shelter. Could he call back tomorrow?

“No problem.”

Kerry looked up. “He wasn’t there?”

“No. He’s doing charity work at the women’s shelter.”

“Really? I admire people who give of themselves like that.” Her eyes narrowed. “Battered women need an advocate.”

Had Kerry or someone close to her experienced abuse? “You know Jamal claimed Tameka had an appointment with Dalton the day she died.”

Her eyes widened and her pretty face paled. “All the women we found were battered.”

“I know.” Hunter let her sift through the facts. Sometimes another point of view could unearth a clue he hadn’t noticed.

Kerry paced the floor, her paper covered feet making a soft swishing sound on the tile. “Okay. We know Tameka went to Dr. Dalton to repair her face. What about Janet Kopetski?” She spun around to face him.

Her brows rose and her lips pressed firmly together. If only he knew for sure how these women had died, he’d tell her in a heartbeat. “What about her?”

“Did she go to Dr. Dalton? If she did, and if both disappeared after their appointments then—”

“Whoa. Who said they had the same surgeon? Besides, we have no idea when Janet Kopetski disappeared. All we know is that she’d cut her finger sometime before her death.”

“Then call Janet’s father to see if he knows who worked on her broken jaw and finger.” Her breath came out ragged.

“Okay.” Hunter wanted to help these women too, maybe as much as Kerry, but right now, he wanted to help relieve Kerry’s anxiety. He’d never met a woman who cared so much for the dead.

He flipped open his small notebook and scanned the pages detailing Norwood’s interview. “According to my notes, Mr. Norwood wasn’t in the know about his daughter’s medical issues.”

“He did say that.” She dropped into the seat next to him. “He said he’d ask his wife.”

Kerry touched his arm and heat shot straight to his groin, but he refused to admit his racing pulse was attributed to the fact Kerry stirred a long dead emotion inside him.

“So he did.”

Hunter admired her tenacity. Kerry leaned closer to him, and her scent shifted his focus to her as a woman instead of her as a professional.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Hardly, a ghost, more like a goddess. “Nothing.” Heat raced up his face. He turned his head, flipped to Norwood’s number, and punched it in his cell. Thank goodness Kerry wasn’t a mind reader.

Ten seconds later, the answering machine clicked on. Dumb move. He should have asked for Norwood’s work number when they interviewed him. He left a message regarding Janet’s surgeon and asked Norwood to call him back.

“Let me guess. He’s at work,” she said, her shoulders sagging.

“That would be my guess, but I don’t have that number.” He leaned back in the chair. “On a slightly different note, I did a little research on our charming Mr. Kopetski.”

Wide eyes stared at him. “What did you find?”

He cleared his throat, trying to keep his mind on the task at hand. “Seems Mr. Kopetski worked for the same financial institution as Janet for about six months. According to one of the coworkers, Kopetski was a hot head. He hated to lose money—his or his clients. He literally was in a fight with one of the brokers and got canned. It was about then he took out his frustrations on his new wife, Janet.”

She flinched and Hunter’s gut clenched. Stupid. He should have delivered the news with more subtlety. Kerry was a woman of great empathy, which was one of the reasons he found her so attractive. But dammit. She dealt with ugliness everyday. He thought she’d be desensitized.

“I trust the police have a record of his domestic violence against her?” she asked.

Hunter was impressed with how fast Kerry picked up the pieces of the puzzle and ran with them. “Yes. As a matter of fact, the cops were called to his house twice during their short marriage.”

Her lips firmed. “It’s hard to believe she would have put up with him after the first incident. What was the date of the last call?”

Hunter flipped through his notebook again. “Shortly before she was arrested for embezzling funds.”

Kerry’s face fell. “Oh.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t harm her after she was released from prison or that Kopetski didn’t push her down the stairs for that matter. It just means she didn’t report the crime because she was dead.”

“You’re probably right.”

“What I don’t get,” he said, “is the shelter connection.”

“She might have done volunteer work there.”

“It’s possible. I figured Janet would have had the money to pay for a good surgeon, assuming both she and her husband were pulling a decent salary.”

“Maybe she went to Dr. Dalton’s regular office and paid like a normal person.”

“Good thought, but why embezzle the funds if she could afford surgery on her own?”

“Surgery isn’t cheap.”

“True. I’ll draw a time line to make sure our dates and facts line up.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why we’re even speculating. We don’t know if they had the same doctor.”

“Knowing you, you’ll find out. When you do, don’t stop at the surgeon. See who the anesthesiologist was and other medical attendants. There could be a commonality there.”

“You’re good.” He loved how their minds reinforced each other’s.

Kerry shifted in her computer chair, and the metal leg squeaked. “Are you going to tell Jamal about identifying his fiancée or do you want me to call?”

“I’ll call both him and Tameka’s mother and tell them we have a match.”

“To be absolutely sure, I want to compare the DNA. It’ll take a few months to get the results back, but they should know I’m ninety-five percent sure it’s Tameka.”

He snapped his fingers. “Tameka’s mom gave me a hair brush. I put it in an evidence bag and locked it in the cruiser’s trunk.”

“Great.”

He raked his hands down his face. “There has to be some way to tie Janet Kopetski to Tameka Dorsey. I wish I knew what I was missing.”

* * *

Hunter wanted to wait until after Melissa had finished eating before he called Mr. Norwood again. He wouldn’t have to leave her with Jen if he could conduct business over the phone. Nothing gave him greater pleasure than to spend time with her. Unfortunately, his life was dictated by criminal activity, and Melissa often suffered because of it.

He polished off the rest of his coffee while Melissa and Kerry had some foreign conversation about the newest clothing styles. They giggled, and he just kept quiet.

When they finished dinner, Melissa and Kerry cleared the table and cleaned up. He was amazed. Every time Kerry asked Melissa to help her, his daughter beamed. She never pouted like she often did when he asked her to do chores.

Damn. He should have looked for a mother for his daughter. Between his job and taking care of her, he hadn’t found anyone he wanted in his life or Melissa’s.

From his vantage point at the dining room table, he studied Kerry bent over the sink washing dishes and Melissa carefully drying them. He shook his head, willing the blood to flow to his brain.

Yes, he could have Kerry watch Melissa tonight should the need arrive, but he didn’t like leaving them alone. With a possible serial killer on the loose, there was no telling what might happen, and he refused to put his daughter or Kerry in harm’s way.

Imposing on his sister was his only choice.

He turned his back to them and flipped through the pages of his notebook to contact Mr. Norwood. Before he finished his search, his phone rang. Speak of the devil. He gave himself a psychic point.

“Mr. Norwood. Thanks for calling me back.”

“I have the name of Janet’s surgeon you asked for. My wife said he’d done a wonderful job.”

Hunter waited a beat. “Who was he?”

“Paul Dalton.”

Adrenaline pumped through his system. “When was that?”

“I don’t have the exact date, but it was after Stanton broke her jaw.”

Hot damn. “Thank you, Mr. Norwood, you’ve been a big help.”

He disconnected and turned to Kerry. “Dalton.”

She turned off the water and faced him. “What about Dalton?”

“Sorry. That was Mr. Norwood on the phone. He said Paul Dalton was Janet’s surgeon.”

She smiled and pumped her arm once. “Yes!” Soapsuds flew off her hands. “I was hoping it was him. I thought it might make things easier, but I never expected our luck to hold up.”

“Who’s Dalton?” Melissa asked.

“He was a doctor who operated on one of my clients, that’s all.”

Some day, Hunter would have to speak freely in front of her. When she was older, he wanted her to understand how cruel the world could be, but right now, he wanted to protect her from the underbelly of society.

Hunter crooked his finger, and Melissa trotted over and climbed onto Hunter’s lap. He gave her a big hug and a kiss. “Why don’t you go boot up your computer, sweetie. I’ll send in Kerry in a few minutes and you can show her the new game Aunt Jen bought you.”

“Okay.” Melissa scooted off his lap and skipped out of the kitchen.

Hunter twisted back to Kerry. “Considering Dalton did pro bono work, it makes sense he’d have dealt with women from different walks of life. Janet probably was quite poor after her release from prison. If Kopetski pushed her, maybe she sought out the shelter to get away from him.”

“That makes sense.” Kerry tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and the soap clung to the side of her face. Cute.

Hunter leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Dalton might know of a connection between the women. I want to speak with him.”

“I’d like to come with you when you do.”

“Why?” He couldn’t take any more chances one of his calls could turn deadly.

“I thought I could show him the X-rays of my other two Jane Does and see if he recognizes them.”

Her logic always cut through the best of his intentions. “You think he could look at an X-ray and identify the person?”

She hesitated. “I bet if we described each of the women’s injuries, he might remember them. Besides, these women have been dead for six months to a year. You would think he’d have wondered why they never showed up for a follow up appointment.”

“That would make sense if they’d had surgery right before their deaths. It’s possible Dalton could have treated them and not have planned to see them again once they healed.”

“True.”

Her pressed lips and slumped shoulders tugged at a vulnerable spot. “I’ll take the X-rays and show them to Dr. Dalton. You can write down all the information you know about these women and give him the rundown.” He smiled, hoping a little charm would convince her.

Kerry’s hands shot to her hips. “Why are you shutting me out?”

“Keep your voice down. Melissa’s down the hall.”

“Sorry. I still think I should be there,” she whispered. The moment she stepped toward him he feared he’d cave.

“I understand your passion for finding the identities of these women. I even admire you, but this is my case. I won’t put you in harm’s way for anything.” Please let her be reasonable.

“Harm’s way? You just said this guy was the angel of mercy. He had no connection to them other than to have treated them. Isn’t that what you implied?”

Big mouth. Maybe he was being overly cautious. “After I see him, I promise to tell you everything he said.”

Her jaw tightened as she ran her gaze over him. “You’d better.”

Melissa called Kerry’s name and her whole demeanor softened. “I have to go.”

* * *

After Hunter dropped Kerry off at work and his daughter at his sister’s house, Hunter headed to Dr. Dalton’s office. His secretary showed Hunter to an office in the back of a three-story, all glass office building. Nice digs. The floor looked like polished granite and the artwork was worthy of being in a museum. No wonder the guy could afford to do charity work.

When Hunter entered the plush office, Dr. Dalton stood to greet him. The doctor was tanned, about thirty-five to forty, small of stature and dressed in what looked like a tailor made suit. Handsome, almost to the point of being pretty.

“Please, Detective, have a seat.” The dark blue, leather, high-backed chair went well with the gray carpet and light gray walls. Hunter eased down. Man, he’d never experienced a more comfortable seat in his life.

Dalton sat behind his desk instead of in the seat next to Hunter. The doctor was obviously into proving his superior position. The many diplomas on the wall were enough to convince Hunter the doctor was as good as he’d heard.

“I’m here to discuss two of your former patients, Tameka Dorsey and Janet Kopetski.” Hunter concentrated on Dalton’s eyes. They never lied.

“Lovely ladies.” Dalton’s smile was engaging, and his teeth were so white and straight, they looked veneered. “But surely you know I can’t give out information about my patients. Doctor-patient privilege and all that.” Dalton chuckled and appeared relaxed, but his eyes twitched. What was he hiding?

Hunter was prepared for the runaround. “They’re no longer your patients. Both are dead.”

Dalton clasped a hand to his chest. His mouth gaped open. “My God. When, how?”

Hunter didn’t want to give too many details. “Their bodies were found in shallow graves not far from here. Perhaps you saw me and the forensic anthropologist who created the clay model on TV.”

“No, I didn’t, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how upset I am to learn about their deaths. Tameka was engaged and so full of life. I believe Janet had had some trouble with her ex-husband but was trying to start her life over again.”

“Would you mind if your secretary showed me the dates of their last visit?”

He waved a hand. “By all means. I’ll let her know to give you the information on your way out.”

“Thank you.” Hunter didn’t move as Dalton stood.

“Anything else, Detective?” Dalton’s jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Yes.” Hunter handed the doctor the X-rays Kerry had prepared for him. “We also found two other females at the gravesite. Both had had plastic surgery of some kind. One was a thirty-five to forty-five Caucasian with a broken ulna that had pins and plates. She also had had a broken nose that required surgery. The second female, of white European descent, had been dead approximately six months when we found her. She was a bit younger. Her right eye socket had been damaged, and then repaired. Do any of these women sound familiar?”

Dalton slapped the X-ray onto the light board. He stared at the images, cupping his chin with his hand. “This doesn’t look like my work. I’m sorry.” Dalton glanced at his gold watch. “I’m afraid I have several patients to attend to. So if there’s nothing else...” Dalton’s gaze bounced around the room as he dragged a hand down the front of his neatly pressed suit.

“Just in case something comes to you, I’ll leave these X- rays. We have duplicates at the M.E.’s office.”

“That’s fine.”

Hunter stood and shook Dalton’s hand. Hunter never understood why a man would polish his nails.

* * *

Kerry’s lab door squeaked open. “Here ya go, Dr. H.” Steven rolled a body bag on a gurney into the room.

“Who is it?”

“Jane Doe #4. Dr. A said to tell you he’d finished the autopsy and she’s all yours.”

“Tell him thanks.”

Kerry wasn’t excited about having to remove what was left of the decaying soft tissue from #4’s body to make an identification, but the process required it.

She dragged the large stainless steel pot from the maceration station, filled it with water from the sink, and then added a tablespoon of Adolph’s Meat Tenderizer to speed the cleaning process. She then dropped it back on the burner under the hood and set the temperature to one hundred eighty degrees.

Her back screamed from the exertion, and a layer of sweat covered her brow. She’d have to cut away the large pieces of flesh first before soaking them in soapy water.

Fully suited up in hairnet, facemask, and gown, Kerry zipped open the bag. The fetid smell of decomposed flesh hit her hard. She should be used to the odor, but each body smelled a little different. And #4 was particularly foul, although she should be happy the maggots weren’t grabbing a bite.

Once she extracted the female from the bag, she carefully cut away the flesh with a scalpel. The tedious job would take hours.

Less than fifteen minutes into the chore, the door banged open. “Dr. H. You gotta come.” Steven was out of breath.

“What’s wrong?” Her heart jetted into overdrive.

“The cops just fished a body out of Tampa Bay. She’s pretty badly decomposed. Dr. A called and said he needs you.”

She held up her gloved hands. Bits of flesh dangled from her fingers. “I’m kinda in the middle of working on this woman.”

“Sorry. She’ll have to wait.”