As Kerry entered the sheriff’s station, a somber young man sitting behind a worn desk glanced up. “May I help you?”

“I’m here to see Detective Markum.”

As the officer typed something into his computer, Kerry studied the place. Officers sat at desks, phones pressed against their head while computers clicked away. Busy place, even at six p.m. The office didn’t look anything like the snazzy FBI offices on television. Those were classy. This place needed a coat of new paint and some air freshener. The old building had some serious mold issues.

“Dr. Herlihy.”

Kerry spun around. Red veins were visible in Markum’s intense blue eyes, but an inner strength radiated around him. “Hello.”

Her pulse sped up. Don’t do this. No doubt he’s married. Her gaze shot to his ring finger. While it was bare, she detected a faint line where a ring had been. Was he divorced, or had he forgotten to slip the band on today. It made no sense to wear it to a crime scene. “Thank you for coming.”

He came across as proper and professional. Good. If he’d flirted, she wouldn’t have known how to respond.

Fortunately, she didn’t have to worry about that since his gaze didn’t even linger. He turned and strode down the hallway.

Was she just supposed to follow like a puppy? His footsteps echoed further down the hall. Guess so. Even at five foot eleven, she had to take long strides to keep up with him. He stopped in front of a door, held it open, and swept an arm for her to go in. At least he had manners.

The stark white room smelled of fresh paint. Hmm. It contained a rectangular table covered in a brown laminate, four straight back chairs, a television with a VCR, and a much-used dry erase board. On the table were photos of the human skeletons she’d helped unearth.

“Please have a seat.”

As Kerry sat, she couldn’t take her eyes off the pictures lined up in a neat row on the table. While she’d dug up the women, she’d been on automatic pilot and hadn’t considered the rather obvious pattern.

She waited for him to say something. When he pressed his lips together, she shifted her focus to the photos and studied them. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice how spread apart their legs were.”

“I didn’t either until I viewed them side by side.” Pain rippled through his voice. “Is there any way, forensically, you can tell if these woman were raped?”

Raped?

Dear God. What had these women endured before their deaths? No one deserved to die this way.

“Not for the first two women. Hipbones won’t show signs of sexual trauma and the semen would be long gone. While #2 had some soft tissue on the lower part of her body, there wasn’t enough to determine any molestation. Our only hope is this one.” She pointed to the last body found. “I’ll pass your concern to Dr. Ahern. Perhaps the autopsy will reveal something.”

Detective Markum nodded, and then opened another folder containing snapshots of women alive at the time. “I pulled all of the Missing Person’s files from the last eighteen months that meet the description of the victims. Didn’t you say you could superimpose an X-ray of the skull on top of the photo to see if there’s a match?”

“Yes, but this assumes the angle of the two faces is the same. I can scan the photo and resize it to match the X-ray, but if the head is angled differently, the comparison will be difficult. I should be able to tell you which of the women couldn’t be one of our victims.”

He dragged a hand down over his jaw. “Where does that leave us?”

“With not much. I can do a dental comparison if you can obtain dental records, but that assumes you know their identity. If they do match, and you want absolute proof, then perhaps a relative has an old hairbrush belonging to the victim we can match against the person’s DNA.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. His gaze shot down to the left, as if he were planning his next move. “What about the metal plates you found in the bodies?” He flipped open his notebook.

She couldn’t recall what she’d told him. “I thought I mentioned they can’t be traced to a specific person?”

“Then they’re no help at all.”

“That’s not entirely true.” She leaned forward, happy to be discussing academics, rather than the women themselves. “Suppose we believe the body is say, a Linda Richards, from Newport, Florida. We find proof she underwent facial surgery in Newport Hospital. If that hospital never bought any plates from our distributor, we’d know we have the wrong woman.”

He leaned back in his chair. Deep lines etched his forehead. “Then we need to find the right woman.”

“Eventually we will.”

He huffed. “How can you be so sure? We have almost nothing to go on but a bunch of old bones.”

“Hey. Those old bones can tell a powerful story.”

He held her gaze, studying her. “Tell me, how did you ended up in this line of business?”

His change of subject took her by surprise, but he truly sounded interested in the answer. “It’s not a business to me. I want to help people, help the families who lost someone they loved.”

He waved a hand. “Bad word choice. Why forensic anthropology?” The detective leaned forward, his eyes wide.

His attention made her uncomfortable, but if they were to work together, she wanted him to understand how much her job meant to her.

“I had an older brother who ran with the wrong crowd. He did drugs, gambled, raced fast cars, you name it, he did it. When he was twenty-three, he disappeared.”

Hunter Markum’s brow furrowed. “He never surfaced?” His eyes turned a darker blue, as if he’d lost someone he loved.

“No.”

“I’m sorry. How old were you when he disappeared?”

Normally, personal questions unnerved her, but his question didn’t seem invasive. “Eight.”

“That must have been tough. Did the police have any leads?”

“No. Nothing.”

His jaw clenched. “How did your parents take his disappearance?”

Kerry looked deep into his eyes. Many men had asked her questions but only as a vehicle for her to accept an invitation for a date. Hunter could be like the others, but her intuition told her otherwise.

She hesitated. Kerry had never spoken about Keith to anyone outside the family.

“Mom never accepted Keith’s death. Every holiday, she keeps a place at the table for him in the hopes he’ll return. She blamed Keith’s bad behavior on my father’s divorcing her two years earlier.”

“How did your dad handle Keith’s disappearance?”

“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.”