After a wonderful lunch at a restaurant overlooking the Gulf of Mexico, Hunter headed further south toward Siesta Key. Windswept trees and colorful plants, abloom with pinks, oranges and yellows surrounded the homes that faced the Gulf.

Natural, beautiful, serene.

“Where are we going?” Kerry asked for the umpteenth time. She hadn’t been able to contain her excitement ever since he’d picked her up. No one had ever surprised her like this before.

“As I said, it’s a surprise, but I will give you one piece of good news to help tide you over.”

She wanted to smash him. “Tell me.”

“When we searched Paul Dalton’s house and office, we found mementoes from the women he’d killed.”

“Mementoes? Like what?”

“Mostly jewelry. Something to remind him of the women he saved or so he claimed. I’ve been spending every waking moment meeting with the victim’s relatives and friends, trying to confirm the jewelry belonged to the deceased. Believe me, it wasn’t easy.”

“Wait a minute. Paul Dalton admitted to killing those women?”

“Saving those women, you mean? Yes.”

That made no sense. “How did killing them save them?”

Hunter pulled to a stop at a light and turned to her. “He said he and his older brother had been abused as children. Seems his father had an untimely death. Paul Dalton was never sentenced, but the locals are still convinced he killed his dad.”

“Steven Dalton told me how his father, Paul’s brother, would beat him when his dad got drunk. He also admitted to killing his dad. Their stories sound the same.”

“Abuse runs in families.”

“In a way, I don’t blame either of them for killing their abuser.” The look on Hunter’s face made her hold up her hands. “I know that’s illegal, but I can see why he’d be pushed to murder. Abuse can destroy all sense of morality.”

“I see you two bonded before he buried you.”

“Not so much bonding—more like bondage.” God, what a nightmare that had been.

The light changed and Hunter drove on. Kerry pushed aside the Dalton family saga. Instead, she marveled at the clean row of upscale shops and sidewalks lined with palm trees.

Hunter pulled into a pink and green one-story motel. Small cabins dotted the shore. “I thought you could use a little R&R after your experience.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I wanted to work on skull #3. She’s not finished and I wanted to get her in front of the camera as soon as possible.”

“That’s part of the surprise. Once we had proof that a serial killer murdered the women in the field, Jack Andries was willing to foot the bill for someone to finish the recreation. In fact, he found your old instructor from the FACES lab for the job.”

“Kimberly?”

Hunter nodded.

“That’s wonderful. Now I know we’ll find #3’s identity.”

Kerry was able to relax for the first time in months. Once Hunter checked them in, he carried their bags into the tiny efficiency. Clean, with a seaside motif, it was a perfect for a romantic getaway.

“Change into something cool.” Hunter opened his suitcase and pulled out a pair of blue swim trunks. “I want to walk on the beach with you by my side.”

Excitement rippled through her. “That sounds divine.”

As she turned, Hunter’s cell rang. “Hi, Jack.”

Now what did his boss want? If Hunter had to leave on another case, she’d scream.

“No fucking way. You sure?” Hunter faced her, his brows raised to the sky. Then came a chuckle. “I never would have guessed.” A smile lit Hunter’s face.

She mouthed the word, what, but Hunter held up a finger.

“Sure, I’ll tell her.” He disconnected. “You will not believe this.”

“What?”

“Paul Dalton is a woman.”

The wind through the palm trees, along with kids screeching on the beach must have made her misunderstand. “Did you say Dr. Paul Dalton, our resident killer, is a woman?”

“Yup. Carla Pendowski, who’s a computer wizard at the department, researched Paul Dalton’s background once they saw he was missing his man parts when they checked him into jail.”

Man parts? “It’s called a penis. You can say it.”

“Yeah, well, anyway. Paul, or rather Paula, was raped as a child. She married at age eighteen to get away from dear old dad and was severely beaten by her new husband. As a result, she needed plastic surgery to repair the damage. Once under the knife, she decided to have facial reconstruction to look like a man, complete with a new brow ridge and a more masculine jaw.”

“That’s amazing. What about gender reassignment surgery?”

“She didn’t have that done. Only a hysterectomy and lots of testosterone shots.”

“It makes so much sense now. She didn’t want other women to suffer like she had. My God, why didn’t she get help?”

“We’ll never know. She hanged herself this morning.”

Kerry gasped. “Part of me feels sorry for her too.”

“Don’t. She/he was a vicious vigilante.” Hunter pummeled his fist in his palm. “I should have seen the signs. Dalton was small for a man and had the nicest hands. I figured that’s why he became a surgeon.” Hunter held up his large, meaty palms. “I could never hold a knife with any precision with these paws.”

Kerry wanted him to hold something else. “I say we put Dr. Paula Dalton to rest and move on with our own operation.”

Hunter dragged her to him and peered into her eyes, into her soul. “Sounds like a plan.”

She wanted to strip him naked and spend the entire day in bed with him, but the thought of walking on the beach, smelling the salt air won. She’d have her feast later.

After they changed, they stepped through the open sliding glass doors on to a small, cement patio. Hunter unhooked the metal gate and voila, the beach. Her bare feet sunk into the warm, fine-grain sand, and the wind whipped through her hair. Kerry closed her eyes, tilted her head to the sun, opened her arms, and inhaled the wonderful salt air.

She relaxed and turned to Hunter. “I couldn’t be in a better place right now. Thank you.”

His grin puckered his cheeks. “Come on. I have a proposition for you.”

No way would he propose. Their courtship had been too quick. She expected a wall of fear to restrain her, but instead joy spread through her.

Hunter got a glint in his eye. “Race you to the water?”

“You’re on.” Sprinting as fast as she could, she fell farther and farther behind the speed demon. Naturally, he won.

He grabbed her around the waist and spun her around. “We’ll have to get you in training.”

“Riiight.”

Hunter’s face turned serious as he gazed out to sea. Kids ran behind them, and then ducked into the water, sending sea spray their way.

“I’ve been worried about Phil,” he said.

Whoa. Not what she thought he was going to say. “So am I.”

“This past week I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, about him, about us.”

She liked the us part. “What about?”

“If Phil doesn’t think his life has value, it’ll kill him. So he and I came up with a plan—and you’re part of it.”

“Me?” He sounded edgy for some reason.

“Phil wants to work, but he’ll be too frustrated behind his old desk. As chance would have it, Braham University called a few weeks ago and spoke with our boss. They said some philanthropist, whose wife and daughter had died recently, wanted to donate a state-of-the art forensic facility on campus. They need someone with a police background to run it. So Phil plans to interview for the job once he gets out of the hospital.”

She smiled. “That sounds perfect for him. But you said I’m part of this. How?”

“Whoever gets the top job will be in charge of hiring the best of the best. And you fit the bill. You can still teach, but Phil and I figured with your talent in 3-D modeling you’d make the perfect candidate for the forensic anthropology position. Given the nature of the lab, we figure there’ll be many skeletons in people’s closets that will need identifying.”

“I love the idea. When I’m not teaching, I could help identify the victims; something you know is dear to my heart.”

“And I would be there to protect you.” Hunter pulled her a few feet into the swirling water and the cool foam lapped at their ankles.

She reached up and kissed him briefly. “Tell me more. Would we be working directly for the sheriff’s department, or what?”

Hunter headed north along the beach, still holding her hand. “No. You’d be paid extra by this lab. The new owner understands if any faculty members are hired, they shouldn’t announce their moonlighting activities to Braham University.”

“So we’d be working in secret?”

“Kind of looks that way. The kinks haven’t been worked out yet.”

Her mind raced with possibilities. “Would anyone other than law enforcement be able to access the lab?”

“Most definitely. Any private citizen who wants the lab to work on a paternity case, cold case or whatever, could hire the lab—for a hefty fee, I might add.”

“This sounds too good to be true. A state-of-the-art lab. We wouldn’t have to wait months and months for DNA testing.”

“You got it.”

“Well, count me in.” Anything to keep Hunter in her life.

Hunter did a one-eighty and headed back to the hotel. “Come on. I have something better in mind than talking shop.”

* * *

The hotel room brought relief from the sun, sand, and crowds. The moment they stepped into the cool room, Hunter pulled her to him and kissed her hard. Kerry still couldn’t get used to Hunter being such a free spirit. He’d always been so in control.

He patted her on the butt. “I say we don’t waste water. Let’s shower together.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. He led her by the hand into the bathroom. The joy and excitement of being with him made her laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he said, as he stripped naked.

His erection stood at attention. The sparkle in his eye told her he was glad he pleased her.

“Nothing.” She ran her nail down his chest and twirled the tip along the head of his cock. “I’m just...” How could she explain this newfound glee? “Happy.”

He grabbed her hand. “I think we better shower first before your happiness carries you away.”

“Spoilsport.”

He ran the water to heat it. Kerry stood there enjoying him move, the soft light bouncing off his muscular body.

“Are you going to undress or what, Ms. Happy?” She didn’t move. “Here, let me help.”

As he helped her pull down her bathing suit, she laughed. Hunter stopped the strip job and nuzzled her neck. “Hey, don’t get sidelined.” God, when was the last time she’d flirted with a man? Probably never.

“Not a chance.” In a flash, she was naked, her sandy clothes tossed carelessly near the door.

When steam spewed from the shower, they stepped into the stall and closed the glass door. The four-foot by four-foot shower barely fit both of them, but she wasn’t complaining.

Her back to the water, she dropped her head and wet her hair, enjoying the pounding heat on her scalp. As she poured a palmful of shampoo onto her head, Hunter grabbed the soap and lathered first her shoulders, and then her hips.

She giggled. “That tickles.”

He looked crestfallen. “You’ll have to sacrifice for cleanliness.” He conveniently stopped his soapy hands on her breasts and scrubbed them thoroughly.

Between the lavender soap, the lemon shampoo, and the delicious sensations coursing through her was almost too much to handle. Having more important things to do than worry about the knots in her hair, she quickly rinsed.

Hunter ducked the soap between her legs, and Kerry perked up. She grabbed the bar from him before he excited her too much and ran the slippery soap first over his well-formed chest, and then over his rippled abs. “I think these may be your best feature.”

He tossed her a look of mocked horror. “And not this handsome face?”

She kissed him. “The face will do. Turn around.”

After she lathered his back, he returned the favor. When their fingers wrinkled, they rinsed, touched, and kissed. As her tongue danced inside his mouth, his fingers worked magic on her sensitive G-spot.

Her elbow smacked into the wall. “Ouch.”

“Maybe we should try something a little safer.”

“Like?”

“You’ll see. I want more room to explore you properly.” Hunter reached around her and turned off the water. “This time, I want to go slow.”

“I like slow.” Okay the truth. “I like fast too.”

“You are easy.”

“Only for you.”

After they stepped out of the shower, they grabbed towels and dried each other off. “I can’t wait any longer,” he said.

Hunter wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the bedroom and onto the bed. He crawled on top of her, supporting himself on his elbows.

He brushed aside a wet strand of hair. “You are an amazing woman, Kerry Herlihy.”

“Ditto, Detective Markum.”

He rolled off her and stroked her face. “When you were in that grave, I thought I’d lost you.”

She’d been about to interrupt when he cast his gaze downward and his chin trembled.

“I offered all my possessions to God if you’d be alright. Did you know that?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Hunter placed two fingers on her lips. “I never thought I’d find someone who understands me the way you do. I can be a jerk or treat you like a princess, and you still are wonderful to me.” He brushed his mouth across her lips before leaning back again. “What I’m trying to say, and doing a bad job of it, is that I love you.”

She’d waited a lifetime to hear those three words. “I love you too.”

She wanted to hold him—forever.

Without saying a word, he slid down between her legs and ran his fingers along the inside of her thighs. His tongue flicked her sensitive spot, causing her to nearly climax.

Kerry dragged her hands through his soft air then ran her fingers over his muscular shoulders. When Hunter continued his assault, she climaxed more times than she had in her entire life. She explored his face and then his broad shoulders, angry she didn’t have ten hands to touch all of him at once.

“I can’t wait any longer, Kerry.”

Hunter crawled on top of her and eased into her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he let her set the pace. Her rhythm sped up and her breaths turned ragged. Someone moaned, but she couldn’t tell if the sound came from her or Hunter. Lost in her own world, the blood pounded in her ears and she let loose all her anxieties and all her anger toward those who’d wronged her. She loved Hunter with her whole being.

Clawing his back, Kerry pumped her hips until he ejaculated, just as she reached another mind-blowing climax.

“Oh my God, Hunter, that was amazing.” Kerry closed her eyes to catch her breath.

He smiled. “Well, if you get pregnant, I hope you’re ready to name our son after my father.”

“Our son?”

“Okay, if it’s a girl, you can name her after your mother.”

“What are we talking about here?”

He looked at her like she was a dimwit. “I guess I suck at proposals, but if in a few months, you’re still able to stand me, I figure a nice little wedding ceremony in oh, Hawaii, would be nice.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. “You want to marry me?”

He laughed and hugged her. “Absolutely. I don’t want to spend another day without you. Been there, done that, and I didn’t like it one bit.”

Hunter’s phone trilled. “Damn it.” He didn’t move.

“Aren’t you going to answer it? It could be important.”

He sucked her hard nipple. “If you insist.” Hunter rolled over and picked up his cell off the nightstand. “Markum.”

He turned his back to her and spoke in hushed tones. She wasn’t sure she liked being out of the loop. After all, they were partners. Hunter dropped the phone on the nightstand and rolled over.

“You won’t believe who that was.” He stopped for a moment. “I can’t believe I just did that. I sound like Phil. Let me rephrase that. Besides being able to spend the next gazillion years of your life with me, what would make you very happy?”

She took a moment to think. “Finding the identity of our last Jane Doe.”

“Well, your wish is granted. That was most likely #3’s mother. She’s positive the model is that of her daughter.”

Kerry threw her arms around Hunter and hugged him again. “That’s the best news I could have gotten.”

“I thought the best news would be if you got pregnant.”

“That too.”

He ran a calloused palm over her sensitive nipple. “Then I say we spend the next few years trying to achieve that goal.”

* * *

Don’t forget to sign up for my to receive three free books, as well as up-to-date information on my stories. If you prefer to only receive notices regarding my releases, follow me on .

I hoped you enjoyed Kerry and Hunter’s story. Next up is Buried Secrets. Here is the first chapter.

* * *

The smart moon had blanketed itself between two big, fluffy clouds, probably to keep warm. Jenna Holliday tugged close her police issue jacket wishing she could do the same. “Damn.” Florida wasn’t supposed to be this cold in December.

From outside the closed cemetery’s gate, she peered in at the faintly lit mausoleum that housed her mom’s remains. “Hey, Mom. I just finished the late shift, which was why I didn’t make it in time for your birthday. I’m sorry.” Jenna leaned her forehead against the wrought iron bars, gripping them tight. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to talk to you. No, I needed to talk to you. I missed passing the exam to make detective by five freaking points. Can you believe that?” She huffed out a breath. “Dad will be ballistic when he finds out. Not that I care.” She slapped her palm against the cold metal, the guilt of what she’d done so many years ago welling inside.

Let it go. You were only twelve. You had to tell Mom you saw Dad with another woman.

Keeping her gaze focused on her mother’s crypt a few hundred feet up the path, she stepped back from the fence and waved goodbye. She coughed into the sleeve of her jacket as she glanced around, hoping no one caught her talking to the dead. All clear. The lot was empty.

A loud crash came from the other side of the mausoleum that sounded like rocks breaking. Jenna spun back to the cemetery. A flashlight traced an arc across the lawn. What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Not thinking about her safety, she hopped onto the hood of her car and scaled the six-foot high cemetery gate, landing onto the paved walkway. Ouch. Her sore knee screamed.

Move. Halfway up the concrete path, more rocks exploded. Was that granite breaking? Ohmigod. They better not be touching Mom’s grave—or anyone’s grave for that matter. Her fingers shot to the gun on her hip.

Someone cursed. From his high-pitched voice, it sounded like a kid. She darted down the middle aisle of the mausoleum, trying to make as little sound as possible despite her breaths coming out hard and fast. She plastered her back against the far wall before making her move. The biting wind whooped and howled down the corridor.

“Let’s get out of here. We already got five heads.” The kid sounded scared.

“No, dumb ass. We don’t get paid until we have seven.”

They were stealing skulls? Not with her around they wouldn’t. She checked around the corner. Two teens, one blond and scrawny, the other beefy and dark, hovered over a coffin that was halfway out of the bottom vault with the lid partly off. The granite faceplate lay in pieces on the ground. Dear God. Half the coffins in the bottom row were out and exposed. The smaller kid had what looked like a king-sized pillowcase slung over his shoulder. She could take both of them if she had to.

Jenna stepped into the open, her finger on her holstered gun. “Police. Put the sack down and get on your knees—both of you. Hands behind your head.” She counted the coffins. Her mother’s grave was sixth from the end. Dear God. They’d broken into Mom’s vault. Her stomach tumbled, but she kept her hand steady.

Before they did as she’d asked, something hard came down on the back of her head. Her knees buckled, sending her to the concrete. Her cheek planted on the ground, and a tsunami-sized ache raced down her body. When she tried to pop to her feet, her attacker delivered a sharp kick to her hip.

“Bitch.” The voice was deep, ugly, mature, and quite unforgettable.

He moved back, and her police training kicked in. Jenna pushed aside the pain and scrambled to her feet. Everything hurt, but she raised her gun, nonetheless. Her damned arms wobbled. The hooded man, dressed all in black, raced away, zigzagging right, then left.

“Police. Stop.” Her vision blurred long enough for him to disappear. She turned around to apprehend the kinds. Damn. They were gone too. Go after the guy.

On her second step, vomit rolled into her mouth and her legs gave way, dropping her to the ground. Crap. Police procedures raced through her mind. Suck it up and stop them. She stood, crouched low, and checked right, then left.

Shit. Other than the sound of the wind whipping through the trees, there were no footsteps, no voices, nothing. How had they vanished? Fuck. She’d screwed up—again.

Think. There were at least three perpetrators. Checking the surrounding area without a flashlight and being in a weakened state would be super stupid. No. She needed to call this one in, but damn, she’d have to admit she’d failed to stop the jerks.

A sharp pain stabbed the back of her head, and she touched her scalp. Gooey blood coated her hair around a wide laceration. She said a few words even her sheriff department father would have been appalled to hear.

She swiped her cell and called the precinct. “Hey, Tanner. I need backup.” She gave him the rundown about the kids, the coffin, and the skulls, including the fact one of them belonged to her mother. “I would have stopped them if some dude hadn’t attacked me.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, but he hit me hard in the back of the head.” Bad move. She shouldn’t have told him she’d been injured. Now the whole precinct would hear about her fiasco. After working hard for five years on the force to earn the men’s respect, she let some creep get the drop on her and ruin everything.

“What are you doing at a cemetery, Holliday? Didn’t you just get off work?” Old Tanner Trundell kept track of everyone and everything at the precinct.

No way he’d understand why she needed to visit her mom in the dead of night. “I was driving by when I saw something and stopped.” That was close to the truth.

“We’ll send a unit and an ambulance.”

“I’m good. I don’t need an ambulance.” Could this get any worse?

“You’re getting one anyway.”

Kill me now. After she disconnected, she made her way to the end of the aisle and dropped to her knees in front of where her mom was laid to rest. A gust of cold wind crawled up her shirt and she zippered up her jacket. Tears burned the back of her lids. The coffin sat open, the head missing. Stolen. Her throat clogged and a metallic taste leaked into her mouth. Mom’s blue Sunday dress was still neatly pressed, her leathery fingers clasped over her belly. Jenna reached out and placed a palm over where her mom’s heart would be. She glanced skyward, knowing her mother’s soul was with God, and that she wasn’t really missing, but the theft dredged up the pain of mom’s suicide again.

A slow boil ran from her stomach to her throat, and she pounded the walkway. “I’ll get back what you stole, you bastards.” She said it loud enough for them to hear, wherever they were.

She wanted to put back the carelessly tossed covers to give the dead respect, but this was a crime scene. Jenna stood and did a quick scan of the cemetery grounds. Were the boys and their leader watching her from behind some tree, and laughing about how they managed to get away? If they came back, she’d be ready.

Fists clenched, she paced in front of the coffins, trying to figure out how the man was able to sneak up on her. She should have checked the scene and taken her time instead of rushing in to save the day. She’d been stupid. Maybe she didn’t deserve to be a detective.

Not true. Her father had raised her to be a cop. She knew the ins and outs better than anyone. So how had she screwed up so bad? Rotten karma, she guessed.

“Hey, Jenna?” That was fast. It was her boss, Captain Lucas.

“Over here.”

Four men and two women rounded the corner. One was Lucas and the second was Larry Bernard, a veteran officer. The next two were CSU techs she didn’t know, and the last was her father. She gritted her teeth and marched over to the captain, trying to ignore the intense pounding in her head. “Why is my father here?”

“I invited him.”

“You had no right,” she whispered. Everyone knew she’d joined the Tampa Police Department and not the sheriff’s department to get away from the probing eyes of the man who basically had caused her mother’s death.

“You were hurt,” Captain Lucas said. “I thought he’d want to know. Besides, he’s one of us.”

Dad stood off to the side ramrod straight, not even attempting to console her. Typical. He was dressed in his sheriff department garb despite the fact it was one in the morning. He must never sleep. Other than his gray beard stubble, he looked like he’d come from work. Hell, maybe he had.

Her father nodded to her, and then stepped over to Mom’s grave. He lowered his head and his shoulders drooped. Jenna never remembered seeing him anything less than the tall, straight, always-in-control dad.

She might as well get this over with and walked over to him. “Hey.”

Her father faced her. The overhead light reflected off what she thought was a tear. She was about to touch his arm but decided against it. No way would she let her heart melt toward him.

He looked up. “You okay?”

Now he asks? “Never better.” Don’t show any weakness had always been his motto.

Three camera flashes went off in succession, indicating the CSU techs were documenting the scene. The captain sidled up to her. “What happened exactly?”

What could she say? She let someone get the drop on her as two kids were stealing the skulls from the graves. Jenna explained the best she could.

“If we catch them, they’ll be up for assaulting an officer too.”

She didn’t care. All she wanted was her mother’s skull returned. “I want this case.”

“No. It’s too personal. Besides, Bernard here has been working another grave robbery case for the last few months.”

She remembered hearing about that one. “Did the thieves only take the skulls?” Maybe they weren’t related.

Bernard stepped forward. “Actually, six coffins in four different cemeteries were dug up, but they stole the whole body.”

“Any leads?” Jenna pulled her coat tighter. It was colder than a concrete slab in winter.

“We’ve zeroed in a particular occult store in Ybor City, called Botanica. Rumor has it a high priestess is using human bones to put evil spells on people, but we don’t have enough evidence to get a warrant to search the place.”

She glanced one more time at her mother’s grave, along with the other ransacked vaults and turned to the captain. “I want to go undercover there.”

Her father drew his gaze away from Mom’s coffin. “The man who hit you might work there and recognize you.”

Who made him head of TPD all of a sudden? “This isn’t your decision. Look, I need to do this. For Mom.” If I hadn’t told her your little secret, she wouldn’t have taken her life. I owe her.

He turned away and headed to the end of the row of vaults.

Lucas nodded at her father. “I think your dad’s right. You could be recognized. Besides, it’s dangerous.”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

Captain Lucas stared hard at her. “I will admit you’d be perfect for the undercover job. You’re young, kind of hip, waiflike, and look no more than twelve.”

Kind of hip? She’d been battling the you-look-no-more-than-twelve comment her whole life—all twenty-nine years of it. “I want this.”

He took a big inhale and his eyes turned soft, almost as if he was regretting the words he was about to say. “I’ll give you one month to bring me hard evidence. Not a day more. I’ll have to reassign Phelps though.”

Her partner, Greg Phelps, who she loved like a father, was due to retire in six months anyway. She had to get used to life without him soon enough. “I’ll tell him if you want.”

* * *

Jenna’s barely twenty-year old customer curled her lip. The girl sported a kissing snakes tattoo that peeked from under the strap of a skimpy tank top, and she had more body piercings than Swiss cheese had holes. Jenna mentally shook her head as she scanned the to-be-purchased items. Dear God, who had the money to throw away on this crap? Careful not to expose her disgust, Jenna rang up the African mask, eye of newt powder, and paper-thin snakeskin.

“That’ll be fifty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents, please.”

Just looking at the girl’s tattoo made Jenna’s fake skull on her forearm itch like hell, but she didn’t dare scratch it. Too much was at stake.

The girl tossed down her VISA card. “Here ya go.” She turned to her girlfriend and began gossiping about the cute guys they’d met at the bar down the street. Considering the friend’s purple hair and orange eyebrows, Jenna could only imagine their definition of cute.

She flashed back to last week to when her dad had come into the store to lecture her on proper police procedures when doing undercover work. First came the pursed lips, followed by the intense body scan, making it clear he didn’t approve of her studded collar and pomaded hair. He acted as if she should have been wearing a plaid skirt and ponytails. In retrospect, she wished she’d dyed her blonde hair green or pink just to piss him off some more.

Jenna handed Miss Kissing Snakes a bone-shaped pen to sign her receipt and checked the clock again. Only twenty minutes until closing. Yay. On the down side, she only had a week left of her undercover job. And she still had no evidence of foul play.

Jenna leaned on her elbows. “Can I ask you guys something?”

They eyed each other. Kissing snakes nodded. “Sure.”

“My boyfriend has been stalking me, and the police won’t do shit.” Jenna narrowed her eyes. “I really want to find someone to put an evil spell on him. Do you have any ideas who I can ask? I got money.”

“Why not ask your boss? She did one for me about six months back.”

Jenna’s shoulders relaxed. “Really? I’ve been afraid to ask her. I thought she might get mad. How much did she charge?”

Kissing snakes shrugged. “She only charged me seven fifty since I’m such a good customer.”

“Seven dollars and fifty cents? I can handle that.” Acting dumb took work.

The girl rolled her eyes while orange eyebrows giggled. “Seven hundred and fifty dollars.” She tugged on her eyebrow ring. “If that’s too rich for your blood, I know of someone else, but he’s not as reliable.”

Marna was considered reliable? Jenna widened her eyes real big. “Wow. That’s way outta my league. I’ll get back with you.” Seven hundred and fifty dollars for some priestess to stir a pot of junk and wave a hand over it? This world was messed up.

As soon as the two girls split, the owner of the store, Marna Willows, waddled out, her long crinkle shirt dragging on the floor. She didn’t look like a high priestess to her. She was way too frumpy. A priestess should be tall, lithe, and very beautiful.

“Jenna, I need a favor.” Her thick black brows creased on her too pale face.

“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?” Marna’s very pregnant sister, Shelby, had another month of her term left. The sister had worked at the store the first week, but then went home to wait out her time.

“Her midwife is out of town, and Shelby’s in a panic. She’s gone into labor and needs me to look after the kids, and that deadbeat husband of hers won’t lift a finger. Do you mind putting the money in the safe and closing the store?” Before Jenna had a chance to answer, Marna unhooked two keys from her broom keychain. “This one’s for the front door.” She placed it in the palm of Jenna’s hand. “And this gets you into my office. Be sure to lock the door before you go.”

“Don’t worry about a thing.” Inwardly she celebrated.

She made a production of straightening the mess on the counter as Marna rushed out. Jenna itched to check out the back and look around. Her boss spent hours in her one-room hideout doing who-knew-what. Twice in the last three weeks, Jenna had gone to speak with her only to find the door locked. Even Jenna’s knocks had failed to rouse a response. She could only conclude Marna was either into meditation or doing some kind of spell and didn’t want to be disturbed.

Since her boss wasn’t here to oversee her actions, Jenna turned off the eerie background music designed to enhance the gothic element of the place and extinguished the incense that irritated her sinuses. Not wanting anything to look out of order to an outsider, she waited until exactly ten to lock up.

“I’m going to put you back together, Mom. Don’t you worry. I’ll find those thieves.”

With money in hand, she headed to the inner sanctum. Marna’s office sat wide open even though her boss had given her the keys. Interesting.

As she’d done for the past week, she flipped on the computer and entered the money into QuickBooks, happy not to have her boss breathing down her neck for a change. When she finished, she searched My Documents for something incriminating. After fifteen minutes, she shut down the machine. Cleaner than a picked bone. Damn. If her boss were into something sinister, she didn’t keep a log of it here. Jenna leaned back in the chair and shoved her hands through her stiff hair. Her chances of finding her mother’s skull was slipping through her fingers with each tick of the clock.

The captain made it clear Jenna needed proof someone was doing spells in this building using human remains before he could even ask for a warrant. She shivered just picturing her mom’s head being doused with bodily fluids and other foreign substances.

“Don’t dawdle.”

As she placed the money into the safe next to the closet, she got a whiff of something foul, like an animal had died. She could only hope the stench was human. After a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Marna hadn’t materialized out of thin air, Jenna tugged hard on the closet handle next to the safe. It creaked open and a moldy stench blew out.

She’d expected to see a pile of stacked boxes, but instead found a dark hallway, lined with crumbing brick, that led to another ancient-looking door. Determined to find out what secrets the old building held, Jenna headed down the unknown path, pushing down the knowledge she had no right to be there. The scarred, pine floorboards creaked under every step. She tugged on a ratty gray string hanging from the ceiling, and a dim bulb lit the long, narrow corridor.

This could be stupid. “Who am I? Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

She hurried to the end of the walkway and tested the knob. Locked. Crap. The need to find out what was behind door number two overtook all rational thought. She raced back to the office and ripped open Marna’s desk drawer, regretting never having learned to pick a lock. The key to the door had to be someplace. After a three-minute search, she found a ring of keys in the fourth drawer that looked like they came straight from Home Depot. She didn’t give a flip what they looked like as long as one of them let her get inside.

Rushing back down the hall, Jenna focused on the worn door. The first two keys failed to work, but the third one did the trick. She noted the time on her cell phone. She couldn’t afford to waste time investigating in case Shelby’s scare turned out to be a false alarm, and Marna came back to check on her new employee. Always one to cover her bases, Jenna ran back and slipped the keys into the fourth drawer.

Hurry. For her mom’s sake, she had to push ahead. Two hard pulls later the door groaned open.

“Oh. My. God.” Dead fish rotting in the hot sun would smell better. She covered her nose.

Determined to find answers, she crept inside. The light switch was mounted next to the door, not that it did much good. The bulb couldn’t have been more than fifteen watts. Eerie, spooky shadows danced on the wall as she stepped inside. Her stomach in knots, her eyes widened at the brownish red streaks covering a cracked wall. It could be blood. That looked like warrant material to her. She whipped out her cell phone and snapped some photos. The flash washed out the markings, but it was the best she could do under the circumstances.

One red image consisted of an arrow through a two-foot diameter circle. A second one resembled a cross that had half fallen over. Could have been an X, but the horizontal bar had fancy pointed ends. A few of the other symbols looked like some kind of Pagan secret code, but none resembled the usual pentagram used in witchcraft. Even though she’d spent much of her recent days studying different Pagan religions, she had no clue what these slash marks symbolized. If she had to guess, she’d say they were closer to the black magic cult associated with Santeria rather than the more benign Wicca.

A whisper sounded behind the side wall, and she stilled. If she believed in ghosts, she would have sworn her mother was trying to tell her something. The reasonable side concluded the noise probably came from a bunch of kids outside. She half jogged over to the far side of the room where the stench grew stronger and images of dead bodies came to mind.

A loud bang behind her made her jump. She whipped around and slammed a hand to her chest. “Stupid thing.” A wooden altar lay on the ground. Her swingy skirt must have knocked it over.

Get out of here. Now.

“One more minute.” Please God, let me find something to help my mom.

Against the opposite wall sat another altar covered in dark stains. More blood, she bet. Her pulse raced. She’d find these thieving kids and take back what belonged to the families if it was the last thing she did. While she didn’t have a CSU kit to test for blood, she could scrape the wall with her fingernails and hope the small flakes would be enough for the test. She stepped closer and reached out a hand.

“What are you doing here?” said a voice behind her. The blood drained to her belly. That voice. Low, dark, evil—and totally unforgettable.

She whipped around and froze.