Maggie Sanchez turned off the television and froze. At the sound of the lock turning on the outside door, she hurried into the bedroom. Chemical Guy, or CG, as she’d dubbed him, always wanted her in bed when he came to visit. Damn. She hadn’t made the bed, but every time she washed the sheets, they tore more.

“Maggie?”

She smelled her pits, and the stench overwhelmed her, but he’d shut off the water two days ago as a way to punish her, because she hadn’t given him a blowjob the way he liked it. After seven months of doing whatever he demanded, she still hadn’t learned how to please him, or so he said.

The bedroom door burst open with such force the wood nearly came off the hinges. Shit. His scowl told her tonight would be difficult.

“When I call, you answer.” He spit. “This place is a sty.”

Like she didn’t know that? “I can’t clean without water.”

“Don’t whine. You don’t clean with water. You want me to start cutting you again? Would that help you remember how to keep this place up?”

“Please, don’t.” Maggie scooted closer to the metal headboard and rubbed the scars on her arms, places where he’d scarred her with his reminders.

Be brave. Don’t let him see you cower. She could almost hear her husband’s voice from above urging her to stand up to this monster.

CG took off his jacket and hung it over the back of the only chair in the room. As he unzipped his pants, Maggie’s hand automatically grabbed her shirt. She wasn’t sure she could take another rape. She always tried to be good and tried not to scream when he entered her, but the pain and humiliation had worn her down over the last few months.

He slipped off his pants and kept his focus on her. “You’re so beautiful.”

Psycho man. She looked a mess and he knew it. “Thank you, and thank you for the computer program.” Her lips quivered as she tried to smile.

She had been happy he’d given her something to do all day. With the windows boarded up and no telephone or Internet, she needed entertainment. Thankfully, the television had rabbit ears. The reception sucked, but it was better than nothing.

“Stand up. I want to see you.”

She didn’t know what kind of game he was playing going from mean to nice, but she obeyed. When he lifted his wrists above her head to spin her around, his body odor weakened her knees. And here, she thought she smelled bad. Something hard in the carpet pricked the bottom of her feet and she winced.

“You’re too thin. You need to eat more.”

“Sure.” She’d say anything not to piss him off.

The scent of paint thinner clung to him. Or was it the smell of gasoline? From his fancy suits, he wasn’t a mechanic. Or did he dress up when he came to visit? Wherever he came from or whatever he did for a living, she wished he’d change his profession.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment to picture the karate moves she’d practiced from the exercise channel on TV. If she tried to hurt him and lost, he’d kill her for sure.

The monster slipped her shirt over her head, lowered his mouth, and then bit her nipple hard. Bastard.

Dare she knee him in the balls now? Why hadn’t she hidden a knife so she could stab him in the heart?

Oh, yeah. He’d taken all of the sharp utensils out of the kitchen.

For a moment, Maggie tried to imagine it was her husband caressing her body, but he chomped on her other nipple, and blood dripped down her chest. “Ow.”

She instinctively pulled away, and he slapped her hard enough for her head to snap back. Tears burned her eyes and struggled to keep the fear off her face.

“Did I hurt you, my sweet?” He dragged a hand down her cheek, and then shoved a finger in her mouth. She gagged.

If she didn’t do what he wanted, he’d chain her up again, or worse, beat her. Maggie pulled away to answer. “No.”

“You’re pretty when you lie.” He smoothed a hand down her head, and she forced away the shivers. “You are such a lovely princess, but I may have a place for you after all.” He reached into his jacket pocket, took out a Swiss Army knife, and waved the blade in her face. “Now for your lesson.”

Not that Lara didn’t appreciate staying in Trevor’s one-bedroom apartment, but her options were unfortunately limited, or rather non-existent. He said it would only be for a day or two, but she’d been there five. She could handle the cramped quarters a few more days, but if the repairman didn’t show up to fix her locks soon, she’d have to insist she stay at a hotel. A few times the sheriff’s department had called and asked Trevor to come into work, and he’d told them he couldn’t leave her alone. The last thing she wanted was to be a burden.

Trevor lightly touched her arm as she attempted to change the sheets on the pullout. “What are you doing?”

“I can stay out here. This is your apartment. You should be sleeping in your bed, not me.” She did enjoy the hard double bed and flannel sheets that smelled like his skin, but she didn’t want to put him out anymore.

He chuckled. Actually chuckled, but she didn’t understand what was so funny.

“My mother would have a fit if I didn’t let you take the bedroom.” He folded the sofa back up. “Come over to the table. I need help with some cold cases.”

“I’m not a cop.”

Trevor pulled the chair out for her. Not used to such chivalry, she searched his face for a hidden agenda.

“You don’t have to be a cop to read files. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.” Politeness had its limit. “What’s wrong?”

He waved a hand. “I meant to ask if you’d talked to anyone about the two skeletons?”

“Just my parents. Why?” She waited for his recrimination.

“I’m wondering if the person targeting you might have inside knowledge from someone in the lab. Did you speak with anyone there? Other than Phil.”

“Ohmigod.”

“What?”

“I did call my thesis professor, Dr. Hoffman at the University, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mention my call to anyone.”

He leaned closer. “What did you tell him?”

She searched her mind for anything that would compromise the case. “I asked a generic question about tissue decomposition to make sure I hadn’t mistaken the time of death.”

He looked off to the side as though he needed to process her comment, and his brow relaxed. “Sounds okay.” He moved his chair closer to the table and locked his gaze on her face. “Would your parents have said anything to anyone?”

“My parents? No. They have no reason to speak with anyone, nor would they. They flew up to New York the day after I received the casket. Didn’t I tell you that last night?”

Trevor fingered the file on the wooden table. “You did. I just wanted to make sure.” He opened the first folder as if the conversation was closed, and then looked up. “I want you to stay safe. All of us need to keep the details of these cases confidential.”

“I agree. I won’t talk to anyone in the lab about my cases either, other than Phil.” She nodded toward the folders, wanting to move the focus off some error she might have inadvertently committed. “Is that what you need help with?”

“Yes. I thought perhaps there might be something in here with the same MO as our killer, something I’ve overlooked. I even asked for copies of the files from some of the neighboring precincts.”

“More Native Americans?”

“Perhaps.”

The pain that laced his eyes tore at Lara’s heart. “Let’s take a look.” She took half of the stack and read a few files. “I don’t know how you guys do this day in and day out. Reading about all these lost souls is depressing.”

He put down his papers and gave her a long look. “I don’t imagine it’s all that different from what you do.” Passion filled his eyes, sending goose bumps up her arms. He knew what it meant to help.

She shrugged, uncertain how to answer. “All I have to do is provide you guys with enough clues to find the person’s identity. You have to deal with the relatives and possibly the killer. You’re not in homicide, so why are we working on this?”

“I’m helping Ethan, and maybe helping you find a connection to the men in the coffin.”

“I appreciate that.”

Lara read every detail of the crimes with interest, hoping she might add something. Only she couldn’t. With every folder read and each photo viewed, a little bit of her heart broke. She fingered the edge of a torn photo. “What do you make of this one?” She flashed him a picture of a nude man lying on a white beach with his throat cut and a gaping hole near his heart. The tips of his fingers were chopped off. “The woman pulled from the lake had her hands cut off, right?”

“The head too.” Trevor took the picture. “I’m not sure if cut off fingers is the same MO as a cut off hand or head, but it’s worth a look.” He passed the evidence back to her.

Lara read further. “It says here, the victim wore what looked like a new wedding ring. In the sand nearby, they found a woman’s ankle bracelet. My heart breaks for the family. I wonder what happened to her?”

“Let me see that.” As his eyes skimmed the report, he pinched his lips tighter. He flipped through a note pad. “I wonder why no one reported him missing, or maybe them, missing?”

“Maybe they weren’t from Florida.”

“Possibly. This guy has dark hair and what looks like dark skin.” He placed the folder between them. “Does he look Native American?”

“I can’t tell from that angle.” She flipped over the folder. “I can’t find his name either.”

“Then he’s a John Doe.”

“Another depressing thought.”

The next morning, Eric Markowitz waltzed into Lara’s lab waving a piece of paper. As he neared, she winced at the smell of his pomade. He’d told her he used the gel to keep his hair in place as well as mask the odor of death. Maybe she ought to try that trick. Of late, even VapoRub hadn’t helped.

“What did you find?” she asked.

“The tox screen just came back for the woman from Lake Keystone. The killer tranquilized her before he murdered her.” He handed the report to Trevor who’d insisted he come with her to the lab.

“What did he use?” she asked. Different tranquilizers took different times to act. She prayed this one was instantaneous.

“It’s called ketovencuronium.”

“Part ketamine, which is used for animals, and part human paralytic.”

“Yes,” Dr. Markowitz said. “It’s a unique cocktail all right.”

Trevor handed the report back to Eric. “Where could someone obtain this drug?”

“At a veterinary supply store. At least the Special K part of the mix. I couldn’t tell the cause of death from the autopsy.” Dr. Markowitz turned to Lara. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on how she died.”

“If her bones are ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.”

Tick tock. Would the lab’s owner understand why she’d only been able to identify one of the two skeletons? She’d met a brick wall on the arson case, and now she’d add one more to her caseload.

Oh, well.

Eric turned to Trevor. “Did you learn anything about who this female might be?”

Trevor pulled out a note pad from his pocket and flipped through the pages, his brows pinched in concentration.

“My brother received a call from a distraught mother yesterday. She said her daughter had been with Mary Reed two nights ago but neither had returned home. Her daughter, Tanya Dansler, had a butterfly tattoo on her wrist.”

Eric’s eyes widened. “That could be her.”

“Ethan was able to get a hold of the girl’s hairbrush and dropped it off at the lab this morning to see if we can get a match.”

Lara gripped his arm and leaned close to Trevor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to get your hopes up, or mine. We’ll know soon enough when the results come back. Phil is keeping tabs on the progress. He’ll let me know as soon as the samples are analyzed.”

Good. She didn’t want to deal with smelly Bernie in the DNA lab.

Lara’s lab door opened, and Eric’s assistant rolled in a black body bag on a gurney. “Where do you want her, Dr. R?”

Dr. R? Lara hadn’t been called that before. The body was possibly Tanya Dansler, the woman with the missing head. “Over by the sink.”

Once Eric and his assistant left, Trevor looked her straight in the eyes. Sometimes his scrutiny made her believe in the theory that the eyes were the windows to the soul. She blinked, not ready to let him see inside.

He hooked his thumbs in his hip pockets, a sexy stance that wasn’t lost on her. “I guess you’ll be safe here. I can stop by around five, five thirty to take you back to the apartment.”

“Whatever works for you. The last thing I want to be is an inconvenience.”

“You aren’t.”

The moment Trevor left, the room seemed more sterile, more desolate, and definitely more lonely. His looks weren’t the only attractive part of the man. Something about how he dealt with emotional pain appealed to her. Add in the fact her deafness didn’t seem to bother him, and Trevor was the real deal.

Shutting off his image from intruding on her work, she began the tedious chore of removing the soft tissue from the bones, which had become an all too common occurrence of late. Where were old, clean bones when a girl needed them?

No one stopped by her lab for the rest of the day to disturb her progress or ask questions she wasn’t able to answer. She thanked the extended time gods for the extra hours. Given Trevor hadn’t called about the DNA results, she assumed Bernie hadn’t completed the procedure.

Come to think of it, even her parents hadn’t called today to check in. She’d expected at least a brief update on the benefit for the National Association for the Deaf.

At six, Lara checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Why hadn’t Trevor come to pick her up? Or at least called? She debated giving him a ring, but then decided to give him more time. The sheriff departments’ work didn’t stop because she needed a ride home. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d bought dinner from the snack machine.

When her lab door popped open a few minutes later, her pulse jumped a notch as a man she didn’t recognize entered. She gripped the counter top and waited for him to say something. Could he be her intruder? Her heart jumped to warp speed as she scanned the room for something sharp.

He smiled and flashed his badge. “You must be Lara.”

“Yes.” Her pulse slowed. Something about him looked familiar. “Have we met?”

“I’m sorry. I’m Ethan Kinsey, Trevor’s brother.” He stuck out his hand.

She kept her fists clenched and stepped closer. “Did something happen to him?” Why else would his brother be here?

He widened his eyes as he lowered his arm. “No. No. He asked if I could pick you up since I was in the vicinity. He thought we should meet since we’re both working the same double skeleton case.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “That’s makes sense. Let me toss this gear, and we can discuss the case on the way.” Lara let out a little laugh, pretending she wasn’t disappointed Trevor had sent a substitute.

As Ethan walked around the lab, she studied him. He was an older, shorter version of Trevor, though not nearly as good looking. Not that looks mattered, or so she kept telling herself.

“I’m surprised Trevor didn’t call to tell me you were coming,” she said.

“He told me he tried, but that he couldn’t get a hold of you.”

She took a look at her phone. Damn. “There is a message from him. I put the thing on silent.” She listened to what Trevor had to say and then dumped her paper gown in the receptacle. After wiping down the counters one more time, she slipped her backpack over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

She followed him to his car—make that a sheriff’s car, which was much safer than some unmarked, windowless van.

When he missed the turn to Trevor’s house, a sliver of worry pierced her. “Where are we going?”

“I thought Trevor told you in his message. My sister and her family came for a visit since Dad’s been quite sick. Kathy wanted to check up on him, and Mom insisted on having a big family dinner tonight. Attendance mandatory.”

Trevor had only mentioned he was busy, and that Ethan would drive her home. He never said anything about a family dinner. Before she could come up with a reason not to tag along, they’d rolled to a stop in front of an old Florida style cement block home with four cars parked on the street.

“I’m sorry to hear about your dad, but I can’t impose on your family time. I know how much I value my time with my parents. Why not drop me off at Trevor’s? I don’t mind waiting until he gets home.” She held up a finger. “Or better yet, I’ll call a cab.” Lara wasn’t about to mention she didn’t like large groups because of the overlapping conversations.

He cocked a brow and quirked his lips. “Ah, no. My mom would be furious if you didn’t come. You’re Trevor’s houseguest, not to mention you’re in hiding.”

“Which is why I should be back at Trevor’s—hiding.”

“You’re safe with four cops inside.”

Lara couldn’t argue with his logic. He came around to her side and pulled open the door. Lara had to hand it to the Kinseys. They raised polite sons.

She checked for Trevor’s truck, but it wasn’t there. “Is Trevor coming?”

“He will if he wants to remain a Kinsey.”

Fine. She was trapped and had no way of getting out of the obligation. Each step seemed like her last. New people often stared at her when they noticed the battery pack on her hip, though most assumed she carried some kind of new, large phone. Those who recognized the hearing devise would shout and a few others would speak real slow, acting as if she were stupid. If more than one person spoke at once, she couldn’t understand any of them.

Ethan held open the front door, and a kaleidoscope of noise, color, and movement hit her all at once. A young boy chased a girl through the living room and disappeared down a hallway, and a very pregnant woman laughed at the children. Music blared from somewhere, and she could feel the vibration on the floor.

The furniture was mostly done in brown tones with a matching floral pattern, and a bookcase on the far wall was chock full of paperbacks and knickknacks. No toys were on the floor, and the place looked tidy.

A short, thin woman barreled toward her. Lara looked behind her to see if perhaps Trevor had snuck in behind them. The energetic lady kissed Ethan, and then hugged Lara, but she spoke so fast, Lara had no idea what she’d said. Whatever the words, the meaning was clear. Welcome.

Lara smiled. “Thank you for having me.”

Mama Kinsey, as she dubbed her, half dragged her into a large kitchen where there were enough place settings at a wooden table for twelve. Good Lord. How big was his family?

The festive plates and mix-matched cups was a far cry from the always perfect and elegant world she grew up in, but for some reason, she found the colors strangely calming.

Ethan asked everyone to hush as he made the introductions. Lara lost track after he pointed to his brother Harry, a fellow homicide detective, who was four years younger than Ethan, and his sister, Kathy and her husband, Rob. Harry’s wife was out of town, or something like that. Trevor had a younger brother in med school who looked a lot like Trevor, and a pretty, younger sister who was studying history, or maybe she’d said math. Lara didn’t catch their names or those of Kathy’s two kids. The entire introduction process overwhelmed her.

“Hi. I’m Lara.”

She should have insisted she leave the moment Ethan pulled up to the drive, but from the way he smiled when he spoke about his family, she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him.

Trevor’s mom’s face lit up. Her lips moved, but since the entire group squealed at once, all Lara could do was hope no one expected a coherent response. With only one implant, her ability to tell where the sound came from was non-existent.

When Kathy and her two kids rushed past her, Lara spun around. Her pulse spiked at seeing Trevor until she noticed his lined face and bloodshot eyes. Both his pregnant sister and the two kids launched themselves at him. What Lara wouldn’t give for a sister like that—or any sister for that matter.

Joy filled his face as he hugged Kathy and his niece and nephew. He planted a kiss on his sister’s cheek, and when he spotted Lara and winked at her, her heart skipped a beat. Before she could make it over to him, Trevor’s mom grabbed his arm and escorted him to the empty chair next to Lara.

Mama Kinsey patted his broad chest. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

From the twinkle in her eye and her wide smile, the mom’s comment was said with love. Lara scanned the table. All eyes smiled and every lip turned up. Wow. The support in the room bolstered even her sagging heart.

No sooner had they sat, than Mrs. Kinsey dished up the food—lots and lots of food, from meatloaf to mash potatoes and gravy to three different vegetables. Every dish looked enticing.

Noises came at her from every direction and Trevor nudged her elbow. When she glanced up, he was looking across the table, her clue someone had asked her a question.

It was Mr. Kinsey. “I’m sorry to hear about your burglar. I hope you plan on installing a new security system.”

“I’m trying.”

“You know, I was a beat cop for many years. You’ve got to be careful no matter where you live. Why I remember—”

“Dad.” Trevor rolled his eyes, and she worked to keep the smile off her face. Her grandfather used to go on and on also when talking about the good old days.

“Thank you for the warning,” she said.

Mr. Kinsey took a sip of his coffee. “You might live in a fancy area, but I remember about four years back we had a rash of burglaries and arson in your neighborhood. The Natives sure were restless back then.”

“Dad.” Trevor shook his head.

“Oh, sure. I’ll shut up. But your girl here should know those Blacks and Indians can be trouble when they drink.”

“Herb, you’ll give the girl the wrong impression,” his mom piped up.

The chatter stopped and everyone stared at Trevor’s dad, the blanket of happiness gone.

Harry, the brother closest in age to Ethan, rapped the table. “Trevor, did you hear about David Franklin?”

“What about him?”

“His wife was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. She wants to move back to Minnesota to be with her family.”

Lara relaxed because Harry spoke slower than the rest.

“That’s a shame.”

Harry quirked a brow. “You know what that means don’t you?”

Mr. Kinsey’s face lit up. “If David leaves, there’ll be an opening in homicide,” he said to his wife, before facing him. “You gotta apply now, son. A job in there will get you away from those goddamn missing Indians.”

Ethan cleared his throat. “Dad, you do know my partner is a Seminole Indian?”

He waved a hand. “Wolfe is different. He’s smart and strong. He has good manners too.”

Trevor leaned his head toward her. “Ignore Dad. His bigotry goes way back.”

“More food anyone?” His mother picked up a bowl of beans and passed the dish to the right.

Ethan winked at his mom and slugged down the rest of his water.

Harry raised his coffee mug at Trevor. “David’s leaving in three weeks. If you find out what happened to your Indians by then, you’ll be a shoe-in for the Homicide slot.”

The chatter started up again, and she figured they were used to Mr. Kinsey’s blunt comments. Lara tried to keep up with what they were saying but couldn’t. They either discussed some on-going topic she had no background knowledge about or they mumbled. Trevor explained briefly about her hearing loss, but from the confused looks on their faces, they didn’t really understand. One speech therapist told her mother that to people who wore a cochlear implant, the voices they heard sounded like Mickey Mouse, only not with as much inflection.

Trevor tried to guide her through the conversations, but eventually Lara gave up. All she really remembered about the dinner was Mrs. Kinsey dumping more food on her plate. Food she couldn’t eat.

A cell phone rang, and her hand shot to her waist to feel the vibration. It wasn’t hers. Ethan placed the cell to his ear, pushed back his chair, and moved into the next room. Harry’s jaw tensed, and Mr. Kinsey’s shoulders slumped forward. Mrs. Kinsey asked if anyone else needed more food. Phone calls at night usually weren’t good.

Ethan arrived back at the table. “Gotta go.”

“Was it the station?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah.” He blew out a breath. “Not a topic of discussion at the table. Suffice it to say, someone is dead, but this time the bastard left us a clue.”

Mrs. Kinsey’s jaw dropped. “Ethan, watch your language.” She lifted her chin toward the two kids.

“Sorry.”

“What kind of clue?”

“A good one.”