Kelley Armstrong - Made to Be Broken

"No, I – "

"You're gonna tell me you're not? What's the big deal?"

He had a point. So why did my stomach clench at the thought of admitting it? I supposed I just didn't want him saying that hunting for a live girl was fine, but digging up a dead one could get me in trouble, and I couldn't afford anyone taking too close a look at my life. And if he did say that, he'd have another point. But I didn't want to hear it.

He swung the crutch under his arm and pulled open the driver's door. "You can drive."

"You aren't coming, Jack. I appreciate the offer, but you're injured and I really need to be thorough – "

"And careful. So I'm going. Make sure you are."

"Are you suggesting -?"

"Not suggesting. Saying. You aren't yourself. Haven't been since you picked me up. Quiet. Tense. Your mind's someplace else. I thought it was just me. Us. Then you run off. Come back. Inhale dinner. All you can think about is getting back. Back to her"'

The keys bit into my palm. I loosened my grip. "I'm not running off half-cocked. I'm being careful and I have my priorities straight. I need to search for Sammi now, so I don't have to run off when guests arrive tomorrow."

"So if you had guests, you'd slow down? Fuck, no. Be climbing the walls." He paused and met my gaze. "I've seen you like this before. With Wilkes."

"Don't – "

"You get single-minded. Obsess – " He cut the word off by rubbing his mouth. "Not trying to stop you. Just want to watch your back. Cover your tracks."

He headed around to the passenger side. I got in and waited for him.

Having searched the east side of the campsite, I started a fresh grid on the west. It seemed unlikely that anyone would have taken Sammi more than a half kilometer into the dense woods.

After almost two hours, I found a patch of disturbed earth less than a hundred feet from the main road. The sun was setting, as it would have been when Sammi walked by, good enough to see, but not to see well. I fought the urge to start digging and simply marked the location by sticking the string roll over a tree branch.

I headed back for the truck.

"Need something?" Jack asked.

I headed at the sound of his voice. In the last two hours, he'd said maybe a dozen words, as he silently poked around, letting me work.

"Need something?" he repeated.

"Stuff."

I retrieved my larger flashlight, and came back to find Jack hunkered down by the disturbed earth.

"Something dug here," he said. "Be careful. Re mem ber – "

I slapped the flashlight into his hand, cutting him short. "Shine it on me, so I don't miss anything."

I pulled on a pair of gloves, crouched, and examined the spot under the glare of the Maglite. It wasn't a large area – less than six square inches of bare earth where something had cleared away the layer of rotting leaves. Claw marks scored the ground, each the size of fork tines. The animal had dug down an inch or two, then given up.

There was a dark, wet-looking patch in the center of the spot. I picked up a clump of dirt, crushed it between my gloved fingers, and looked closer. It was dry, just darker than the surrounding earth. I ground another clump between my thumb and forefinger. Jack shone the Maglite on it.

"Blood," Jack said. "Here, let me – "

"Got it."

I gently swept aside the disturbed earth. Beneath the thin layer the animal had scraped through, the ground was hard. You can pack a hole as tightly as you want, but you can never cover the signs of disturbance. Blood had seeped into the ground here, but nothing was buried beneath it.

I took a moment to wipe off my hands, gaze down, not letting Jack see how relieved I was.

Then I shifted onto my haunches and looked around. Something had come through here, damaging bushes and low-hanging branches to the north, the direction of the road, and to the southwest. I knew the disturbance couldn't have taken place more than a week or so ago because the exposed wood of each break was fresh, and new leaves hung from the broken end of the twigs, still surviving on stored food.

Despite the obvious signs of passage, the site showed no ground-level indication that anyone had passed this way. Fallen leaves carpeted the ground beneath the broken twigs. Not a single inch of bare earth was exposed. Perfectly undisturbed. Too perfect. All around this patch, dead and fallen leaves lay in heaps and clumps, the earth peeking through. Someone had covered his tracks here.

I proceeded southwest. I didn't need to search for broken branches and twigs. The too-perfect layer of leaves stretched out before me like a red carpet. Less than fifty feet later, it ended at a clearing.

I flexed my hands, inhaling to calm my galloping heart, then crept on my hands and knees to the middle and began clearing leaves. Without a word, Jack set up the flashlight to shine on the patch, then started working at the other side.

Within minutes we'd found a tightly packed patch of upturned earth.

Staying on my knees, I cleared the area and marked the perimeter of the hole. Two feet wide. Just over five feet long. Once it was clear, I eased back and sat there, staring at it.

I stood, hands shaking as I brushed dirt from my pants.

"I need – " The words snagged in my throat. I'd been working so long in silence it was hard to speak. I cleared my throat. "I have to go back to the truck and get – "

Jack stepped up beside me, holding a shovel. I hadn't even noticed he'd left.

"Here," he said. "You sit. Rest. I'll – "

"No."

I took the shovel and scraped off layers of dirt, rather than digging. If Sammi was here, I'd need to replace everything as it had been and find a way to lead the police search in the right direction.

About nine inches down, the tip of my shovel revealed a pale nub, glowing in the reflected flashlight beam. I bent and, working with my gloves on, finger-scooped around the object until I could see it. A toe. A small toe with chipping purple nail polish.

I moved back, drawing in a ragged breath.

"Want me to -?" Jack began.

"No."

I crawled to the other end of the hole and began scraping away at the earth. Soon, yet another pale nub showed through the inky earth. A nose. Using my fingers, I cleared away the final layer of dirt. Then I leaned back and sat there, looking down at Sammi. A bloody gag covered her mouth. Her eyes were open, those beautiful violet orbs streaked with dirt and filled, not with shock or fear, but rage. A last snarl at the world that had ignored her.

Jack's fingers brushed my arm. I instinctively pulled back, then stopped, letting his fingertips rest there, warm against my cold skin, my jacket long since discarded.

"I didn't even like her," I whispered, staring down, trapped by the force of Sammi's final rage.

"You gave her a job."

"Because I felt sorry for her. She knew that and she hated it. Hated me for it. Can I blame her? That's all she ever got in her life. Pity and antipathy."

"First is better than the second."

"Is it?" I glanced up at him. "I could have helped her. Really helped her. Not just given her handouts and patted myself on the back for it. Girls like Sammi…" I shook my head and looked back at that paint-chipped toenail, unable to look at her eyes again. "People see a pretty girl with a short skirt and a big attitude, and they think they know her. They think they know the type. Girls like Sammi… like Amy… People think they've got them all figured out."

His fingers wrapped around my forearm. "She's not Amy, Nadia."

"I know that," I snapped, yanking away. "I just meant that I knew better. I knew, from Amy, what it must have been like for Sammi. I could have done more."