Trevor eased off the Interstate and mentally recited the directions he’d jotted down from the missing man’s wife. If he’d thought to take the cruiser, he’d have GPS, but he’d spent so much time trying to convince Lara she didn’t need to come, he had no time to swing by the station. It didn’t really matter. He’d found Larry Jumper’s house by himself with a few minutes to spare.

He glanced across the truck seat at Lara. She didn’t believe either of her two skeletons belonged to the three families whose X-rays and MRI’s he’d shown her. That left five families to put through hell again. Deep in his gut, he knew her skeletons were his missing men, since the timeline of their disappearance fit too well, not to mention age, race and height.

The only wife who’d been free to meet with them this afternoon was Mrs. Jumper, and she’d said Larry hadn’t been deaf. Later in the week, he hoped to finish making the rounds to get more details on the other men.

He flipped off the radio’s classical rock music and stopped at the light. He thrummed his fingers on the wheel, and when he glanced over at her, she’d tucked a shapely leg underneath her, most likely to torment him, and he shook his head a few times.

“What?” She looked all wide-eyed and innocent as if she had no idea how provocative she was in her slim calf-length pants and tight, white top.

“I’m still trying to figure out how you convinced me to let you join me.” She was a civilian for God’s sake, and he couldn’t afford for anything bad to happen to her. Best case scenario, her presence might help ease the pain of dragging the families through the men’s disappearance again.

“Is it against department policy?”

“Close. You work at the lab, so I won’t get a citation or anything but—”

“You know you need me. Besides, you might not know what questions to ask.” She lifted her cute nose into the air.

He studied her for a moment longer. Was she challenging him or just excited to be part of this grueling mess?

“I’ll have you know my eight years with the NYPD more than qualifies me to know what I’m doing and what questions to ask.”

“Okay, Mr. Detective. If you’re so smart, how come you didn’t even know where the hyoid bone was located?”

Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended not to know. “I was—”

A horn beeped. With a quick glance at the traffic behind him, he pressed the pedal too hard, and they shot forward.

Lara grabbed the dash. “Easy.” She hiccupped and sat back.

“Sorry. You could have written down the questions I need to ask Mrs. Jumper.”

She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t work that way. Sure, the first two or three might be routine, but the questions after that will depend on her responses. You don’t have the expertise of a forensic anthropologist.”

He blew out a breath, mostly for her sake. “All right, you win.”

She’d already proven how invaluable she was, but he wanted to understand if she had a hidden agenda. Damn sure her insistence to come wasn’t to go on a road trip with him. Every time he studied her, she averted her gaze. Lara was bold when it came to work but shy with interpersonal relationships, a combination he found attractive.

“Truth is, this is the first time I’ve been out of the lab investigating a case. There had never been a need before. But now, I figure the more field experience I get, the better I’ll be at helping you guys.”

That sounded plausible but something was missing. He slapped the wheel. “Wait a minute. Did one of the Native Americans being deaf have anything to do with your desire to see justice done?” Her big news centered on the fact that according to the MRI, one of his missing men, Nate Roberts, had been deaf. Part of her skeleton was missing, which meant she couldn’t tell if Nate was the man in the coffin. In the end, they decided he wasn’t.

She pressed her lips together. “I’m not that shallow.”

“I didn’t think so.” He winked and the strange sensation of flirting stunned him for a moment. This was the first time since his fiancée’s death that he even felt like connecting with a woman.

Trevor refocused on the road. The Reservation was up ahead, located on the outskirts of the Seminole Indians’ cash cow, the Grand Casino. When he turned onto the street past a large lot, parked cars on each side blocked the flow of traffic, forcing him to slow. He rolled down the window. Music blared from the park and the sweet scent of cooked corn filled the air.

Lara sat up straight. “What’s going on?”

“Mrs. Jumper said a Snake Festival was taking place in the park this afternoon, but I didn’t think there would be this many folks about so early.”

Around forty people were setting up tents and chairs and another fifty or so were wandering around in tribal costumes.

“A snake festival? They worship snakes?” Her eyes widened, and she wrapped her arms around her shoulders.

He chuckled. “You see dead bodies every day and more horror than anyone should have to deal with. A little snake shouldn’t trouble you.” He spotted Mrs. Jumper’s street and made a right.

“Snakes are alive. My bodies are not.”

If he ever had a free moment, he’d like to delve into her fears.

Damn. Where had that thought come from? Even before he’d met Claire, he avoided work-related relationships because they always turned into trouble. Right now, his focus had to be on making it into the homicide division, which meant he needed to solve the case of the missing men. He couldn’t afford to let his testosterone override his work. His father always preached to keep your eyes straight ahead and not veer from your goals or disaster could strike. And Lara Romano was definitely off the path.

She pointed to a bent mailbox. “There’s 4356.”

He stopped in front of an all-block home that desperately needed a new coat of paint. He slid from the car and pulled open the passenger’s door. Not that Lara needed help, but he wanted to show her they could work together. When he extended a hand, her delicate palm fit snugly in his. Nice. He attributed the rise in body temperature to the bright sunshine beating down on his head.

As soon as she stood, she withdrew her hand from his grasp. Wasn’t she Miss Independent? Was it him or all men she wanted to avoid?

Before he had a chance to ponder her actions, Mrs. Jumper opened the front door. Her cheeks sagged more than he remembered from the first interview, and her apron looked like she’d spilled a good many dinners on it.

Without saying anything, the woman motioned they come in. Lara halted inside the door. Her wide-eyed gaze bounced from the sheets covering the sofa and chairs to the toys scattered all over the floor.

Mrs. Jumper wiped her hands on her apron. “Sorry about the mess. Ever since Larry left, I’ve not had the energy to clean or do repairs.”

After Claire died, he’d barely eaten or slept. “I understand.” He nodded toward Lara. “Dr. Romano, here, works at a forensic lab. Recently, we unearthed two Native American skeletons. She’d like to ask a few questions to rule out one of them being Larry.”

Mrs. Jumper clamped a hand over her mouth. “You think it could be him?”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine, but one was five foot six, the same height as Larry, and the time frame of his disappearance matches.”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment. “Where are my manners? Please sit down.”

Lara sat on the edge of the chair with her back ramrod straight, her hands folded on her lap. “Mrs. Jumper, did your husband have any deformities?”

“Deformities?” The woman glanced from Lara to Trevor and back to Lara, as if she didn’t understand the word.

“Were his legs curved?” she said. “Or his back bent?”

Mrs. Jumper jutted her chin at the question as if what Lara asked was too personal. “He didn’t limp if that’s what you mean.”

To her credit, Lara didn’t react.

Two small children, both girls, ran through the living room screaming. Mrs. Jumper had probably promised to take them to the festival. She yelled at them in her native language, and they dashed down the hall.

Lara watched the two kids until they disappeared. Her face softened for a moment, before turning her attention back to the mom. “If I was unclear, I apologize. Did your husband have scoliosis? Or were his legs bowlegged?”

“We never went to a doctor. I think his back was fine, but his legs weren’t exactly straight.”

Lara jotted the information in an expensive looking red leather notepad. “Could you tell me if he was missing any teeth?”

“Yes. A few. We couldn’t afford dental care back then. I kept telling him to stop smoking or he’d lose all his teeth. My grandfather couldn’t chew his food when his gums went bad. The doctor said it was the tobacco.”

Lara scrunched her brows as she glanced at Trevor.

He wasn’t sure what to say. “Maybe the doctor was wrong.” He made the comment to break the uncomfortable line of questioning.

Mrs. Jumper pressed her lips together.

Lara’s face softened once again, and she pointed to a framed photo on the side table. “Is that a picture of your husband?”

Mrs. Jumper nodded and handed her the portrait.

“His left incisor is missing.” She said it so softly it was as if she were talking to herself.

Mrs. Jumper squinted and shook her head a few times. Trevor pointed next to the eyetooth. The woman nodded. “He lost that tooth about five years ago.”

Lara placed the photo back on the table. “Do you have a hairbrush of your husband’s or a toothbrush?”

Her eyes widened. “What for?”

“I’d like to have his DNA.”

Shoulders slumped, Mrs. Jumper rose and disappeared down the hall, her gait slow. She returned a minute later with the requested items. Her hand shook as she handed her the two brushes, which Lara placed in an evidence bag.

“When will you know if my Larry is....?”

Dead? “It will probably take a few weeks. HOPEFAL has a fairly fast turnaround for DNA.”

“Hopeful?”

Lara interjected. “HOPEFAL is short for the Henry O. Pomerantz Center for Excellence Forensic Analysis Lab.”

“Oh.”

Trevor stood and said his goodbye with the promise of letting Mrs. Jumper know the answer as soon as he found out.

Lara said nothing after they drove off. He figured she needed time to absorb the new experience of dealing with the victim’s relatives.

A bunch of cars blocked the road ahead, and he stopped to allow a crowd of festivalgoers to cross the street.

She pointed to the large grassy area. “Could we stop and see the festival?”

“I thought you didn’t like snakes.”

That brought a smile. “You were only teasing me, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Cops’ kids are brought up never to lie.”

“Then I’d like to learn how these Native Americans celebrate their culture.”

“Fine by me.” She could probably use the boost. Talking with Mrs. Jumper had not been easy.

He’d use the time to search the crowd for anyone who might look like he’d abducted or killed eight of the locals. Not that he knew his men were dead, but the length of time they’d been missing implied something bad had happened.

As he opened his door, so did Lara. He guessed none of Lara’s former boyfriends ranked high in the gentlemen category. He came around to her side and placed a palm on the small of her back to guide her through the crowds. Given her olive skin and long, brown braid, someone might mistake her for Native American and ask why she wasn’t participating today.

Halfway across the expansive park, a woman in her early thirties, dressed in a colorful dress, waved to him, but the look on her face wasn’t one of happiness.

Lara looked up at him. “Who’s she?”

He waved back. “Her brother was one of the men who disappeared.”

“How sad. Are we going to talk to her?”

“Eventually.”

He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if one of his family members didn’t come home one day.

Yes, he could. He’d be devastated, depressed, and totally destroyed. Rehashing the event would be as close to torture as one could get.

As he refocused on Lara and the growing crowd, an unsettling weight dragged on him with each scan of the area. They followed a bunch of rowdy kids to the center of the park, staying clear of the people forming a large, encompassing circle to the east. Between the ankle bells and the drumbeats, he didn’t know how Lara could enjoy the noisy event, but from the excitement in her eyes, she was.

Costumed men and women wandered about shaking hands with the visitors. Some had long hair tied in a braid, while others had a more modern hairstyle. Most wore fringed pants, colorful tops, headdresses, and face paint.

Lara pushed forward through the crowd, and he shot out a hand to stop her. “I think it’s better if we stay away from the main part of the festival.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“There are a lot of people we don’t know and one of them might be responsible for the missing Seminoles.”

She stared at him, probably deciding whether to call him on his reasoning. “Fine.” She turned her back to him and looked out over the park. “There are some tables with jewelry on it. Can we look at them? You can stand next to me to make sure I’m safe if you want.” She looked back over her shoulder, and he swore he caught an eye roll. Then she took off.

“Lara.” He had to shout to make sure he got her attention.

He wanted to throttle her for not paying enough attention to her surroundings, but they’d have that talk later. Let her have fun now. He caught up to her in a few strides and guided her to the tables.

She picked up piece after piece of homemade jewelry, asking the seller questions, acting like a kid at Christmas. Seeing the joy on her face made the day a lot better than it had started.

Such a shame the attractive couple had to die.

He watched sweet young Lara leave the park with the handsome man. He’d spent the last hour searching for the perfect man and woman to add to his collection of wax figures. Now he’d found them. Only who was the man with her?

Since he wore a badge on his hip, tracking his identity shouldn’t be difficult.

Faces floated by, some pretty, some not. From the pictures he’d studied, he had a good idea of the body type and shape of the face he needed. So who would be next? His historical tableau needed many more than his two main attractions.

He adjusted his balls and smiled. Lara would make the perfect Pocahontas, and the cop, the perfect John Smith.