She locked her door and rolled down her window part way. “What is it, Officer?”
All she saw was a gun pointed toward her belly. A large, black gun, and her eyes widened as her heart did a flip inside her chest. She sucked in a large breath waiting for him to hurt her. A scream bubbled up just as blast ripped through her. Her mind stopped working, as pain ricocheted in her abdomen and raced down her legs.
Chanel grabbed her stomach, but the blood bubbled up through her fingers. “Noooo!” Sweet Jesus, he’d shot her.
“Cunt.”
That voice. She knew that voice. Her heartbeat raced. Who was he? The pain stopped. She was going to die without ever holding her child in her arms. “Why?” she sobbed.
He pressed the cold muzzle against her head. A click sounded, and stars splintered across her vision before fading to black.
Kerry had spent yesterday afternoon photographing, measuring, and cataloguing #4’s dry, clean bones. This morning she’d begun to arrange them in anatomical position. Not only were a few missing, she had some little bones left over. It reminded her of when she’d helped a friend assemble a bike for her daughter’s birthday. The bike seemed to work fine, despite all the left over screws.
Kerry was staring at the body, trying to figure out what she’d done wrong, when John Ahern walked in.
“Any luck?”
She didn’t look up. “Not yet. I feel like all the King’s horsemen and all the King’s men couldn’t put this together again.”
John chuckled. “Coming from a forensic anthropologist, that’s scary.”
Kerry stepped over to the sink, removed her gloves and washed her hands. I need to think for a moment.”
“Always a good idea.”
She was about to ask him about the medical examiner’s van that might have picked up Willie Wyble, when she noticed where she’d left the small bones—between the woman’s legs. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Give me a sec.” Small bones, the size of lima beans huddled together in no pattern. Most were pitted and soft from decay. “It’s a fetus. I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots earlier.”
“Could it be because you just began the process?”
“That or because most of the fetus’s bones are either missing or had turned to dirt. None of the bones are even connected, so I didn’t realize what I was seeing.”
Sickened by her find, she raced around to locate the correct instruments to gauge the baby’s age. Kerry measured the length of the only metacarpal she could identify. “Hand me the growth chart on the counter over there, please.”
Kerry studied the chart. “The fetus is between three and four months in development.” She tried hard not to let this new fact bother her, but it did. This baby was the same age as hers when she’d miscarried.
Don’t cry, don’t cry.
“So Jane Doe #4 was pregnant,” he stated.
“Yes.”
“That makes two of them.”
“Two?” Her heart pounded.
“I received the tox screen back from Janet Kopetski. She had high levels of progesterone and estrogen in her tissues.”
“Shit.” Kerry bit her lip. “Sorry.”
“Do you think we’re looking at a killer who only kills pregnant women?”
“I hope not.” Her hands trembled.
“I need to check on something.”
John spun and left her room. She immediately grabbed her phone and dialed Hunter’s number.
“Kerry, what’s wrong?”
She almost smiled at his overprotective behavior, but the ramifications of what she was about to ask sickened her. “I’m fine.” She told him about the two pregnancies. “Do you think you can find out if Tameka Dorsey was pregnant?”
“I’ll try. By the way, I have something I’d like to do after work. Is there any possibility your sister could drive you to the cabin? Assuming you keep a close watch in your rear view mirror.”
“I can do that. Don’t worry about me. We’ll be extra careful. Is it about the case?”
“I want to speak with Tameka’s fiancé, but that’s not what will hold me up. It’s the second anniversary of Melissa’s mom’s death today. I’d like to spend some time with her.”
Kerry had trouble swallowing. She noted he didn’t say the second anniversary of his wife’s death. “I’m so sorry, Hunter.”
“Yeah. It’s tough on her.”
And on him too, she bet.
“So what did you say that hunky detective was doing tonight?” Susan passed Kerry the package of cooked chicken strips from the cabin’s refrigerator.
Susan wasn’t nosy as a kid, but apparently she’d changed. “I didn’t say, but he’s working on the case.” Susan didn’t need to know the details, and she didn’t need to know his wife had died only two years ago.
“You like him, don’t you?”
Don’t go there. “Why the third degree? He’s my bodyguard. That’s all.”
“Do you trust him?”
Kerry didn’t want to be having this discussion, couldn’t have this discussion. The pain scratched at her brain and raced down to her belly. Her emotions were twisted, and she no idea what she was feeling. “Trust has nothing to do with anything.”
“You know what I think?” Susan had a wicked look in her eye.
Kerry arranged the chicken on the tortillas, sprinkled a handful of leaf spinach on top, and then doused the roll-up with Parmesan cheese. To hell with watching her weight. “No. What do you think?” She was tempted to tell her sister to mind her own business, but Susan was too stubborn to listen.
“I think Hunter is worming his way into your heart. I heard how you talked to him over the phone.”
Kerry’s fingers froze. “You are so off base. Hunter loves his work and loves his daughter, but there is no room in his life for a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”
“I merely stated—”
“Besides, I don’t think I could handle being with a cop. He’s always gone. He could be injured at any time. Nannie always complained about Grandpa’s long hours, if you recall.”
“Yes I do, but me thinks you protest too much.”
“Hand me the salad dressing. I’m hungry.”
Before Kerry could carry her meal to the dining room, someone knocked on the front door.
Susan’s eyes bugged out. “Do you think it’s the killer?”
Kerry refrained from rolling her eyes. “A killer wouldn’t knock. I bet it’s Hunter. He probably forgot his house key.”
Kerry acted cool, but inside, fear clawed its way up her spine. Now where did Hunter keep his gun?
Duh. He had it with him.
“Lock yourself in the bathroom,” Kerry whispered to her sister.
“Hell no. You said it was probably Hunter. I’m not leaving you alone in case it’s not.”
Now her sister wants to be there for her? “Just go. And here, take my phone.”
“Why?”
“If you hear me scream, call 9-1-1.”
Despite Susan’s stubbornness, she did what Kerry asked. Once the bathroom door closed, Kerry went to the front door. No peephole. Shit. “Who’s there?”
“Phil. Hunter’s partner.” Even though his voice came out muffled, it sounded like him.
She prayed it really was Phil. She threw back the latch and opened the door. Her shoulders sagged. “Hi.” Her hand flew to her chest to calm her beating heart. “Has something happened to Hunter?”
Phil laughed. “No. May I come in? The bugs are eating me alive out here.” He stepped into the foyer. “What took you so long to answer?”
“Just making sure you weren’t the boogie man.”
“Me?” Phil’s eyes sparkled.
“Yes. Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.” She knocked on the bathroom door. “It’s okay. You can come out.”
Once Kerry introduced Phil to her sister, she offered him a beer. He deserved a drink for driving all the way out to this place. She needed a drink too. Susan declined.
“Not to be rude,” Kerry said, “but why are you here?”
“Hunter was worried about you.”
She always suspected her bodyguard cared but hearing confirmation from a cohort sent a warm, gooshy rush through her. “I’m safe as long as I stay in the cabin.”
Susan grabbed Kerry’s arm and shook it. “Ooooh. The detective likes my sis-ter.”