Amanda Stevens - Forbidden Lover

“Where is the skeleton now?”

“Exactly where it was found. We want you to oversee the excavation.”

“I see.” She was intrigued by the prospect, Nick could tell. Too often, remains were sent prematurely to the pathology lab or to the morgue before a proper excavation and search of the area were conducted.

“The sooner you excavate, the better,” she murmured, glancing at the calendar on her desk. “If it rains, crucial evidence could be washed away, but unfortunately, I’m completely tied up until Wednesday.”

Two days away, Nick calculated. And the weather service predicted a major rainstorm in the next twenty-four hours.

“Can’t you rearrange your schedule?” he urged. “The time factor could be critical here.”

“But you don’t even know whether the remains are human or not.”

He met her gaze. “They’re human.”

“But you just said—”

“I said the sheriff up there doesn’t want to come off looking like some kind of fool, which is true. He’s not sure the remains are human, but I am.”

“You’ve seen them?”

“I drove up yesterday as soon as he called me. We’re trying to keep this as quiet as possible, but in case word leaks out, a couple of deputies are patrolling the area. Just between you and me, though, I’m not sure how effective that precaution will be. They were all pretty spooked by the discovery, and I doubt any of them were willing to spend the night in those woods last night.”

“I understand.” She frowned at her calendar, as if mentally juggling her schedule. “But I’m afraid there’s no way I can get up there before tomorrow. I have classes the rest of the day, and…” her frown deepened momentarily “…an engagement tonight that I can’t possibly get out of…”

Her words trailed off, and Nick wondered if the engagement she couldn’t get out of tonight was a social one. Did she have a date? If so, she didn’t look all that keen on going, so what was the problem?

“I could wait around and drive you up as soon as you’re finished,” he suggested. “We could start the excavation at first light tomorrow.”

“If you’re in that much of a hurry, perhaps you should try someone else. Who did CPD use before I moved to Chicago?”

“Dr. Bernard Rosenbaum, but he’s laid up with a broken leg. Dr. Ernesto Gonzalez occasionally backs up Rosenbaum, but he lives over two hundred miles away, and besides, he’s working in Bosnia right now. There’s no one else available, Dr. Casey. And it’s going to rain tomorrow afternoon,” he stressed. “I need you up there as soon as possible.”

Something in his tone must have conveyed his urgency, because she looked up, letting her blue gaze rest on him for the longest moment before she nodded almost imperceptibly. “All right. I’ll see if I can rearrange my schedule. But you don’t have to wait around for me. Just leave me your number and I’ll call you tonight when I’m finished.”

He stood, fishing a card from his pocket and dropping it on her desk. “If it’s all the same with you, I think I’ll hang around campus for a while anyway.”

“That really isn’t necessary—”

“Look…” He shot a glance toward the door. “I’m a little concerned about security. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your facility.”

“Security? For remains that haven’t yet been identified as human?”

When he said nothing, her gaze grew mildly reproachful. “There’s something you’re not telling me about this case.”

“I’ve told you everything I know about the remains.”

“Then why are you so concerned about security?”

“Security is my job. In case you haven’t thought about it before, you’ve got a murder victim lying in your lab downstairs. Someone out there isn’t going to be too thrilled when you ID her.”

She didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his words. “This building is equipped with a sophisticated security system, including highly sensitive motion detectors. A special lock was designed for the lab doors, and only a few of the FAHIL staff have been issued keys. The doors to the FAHIL facilities are kept locked at night, and the building has its own security guard. Does that sound satisfactory to you?”

Her thoroughness impressed him once more. “You would have made a very good detective, Dr. Casey.”

Again, she gave him a slight smile, but her tone was deadly serious. “But I am a detective. I’m a bone detective. I just don’t carry a gun.”

And if she did carry a gun, Nick had no doubt she would be a crack shot. He had a feeling there were very few things Dr. Erin Casey didn’t do well.

The possibilities, he decided, were pretty damn intriguing.

“DR. CASEY! Wait up!”

Erin, balancing her briefcase, an armload of books and papers, and a can of highly caffeinated soda, turned at the sound of her name. Ross Calvert, her research assistant, hurried up the sidewalk toward her.

“I’m glad I caught you, Dr. Casey,” Ross said breathlessly as he drew alongside her.

“I’m in a bit of a hurry, Ross, so whatever this is about, can it wait?” He looked instantly crestfallen, and Erin cursed herself for her curt tone. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have that reception tonight at the dean’s house, and you know how much I hate those things.”

Ross nodded sympathetically, his normal good humor somewhat restored. He wore baggy black jeans, a black Primus T-shirt, and his dyed hair had been gelled into orangy-red spikes. The grunge look, including the eyebrow ring and chin stud, belied his keen intelligence. He was one of the sharpest research assistants Erin had ever had.

“You’ll be cool,” he said admiringly.

“I appreciate that, Ross. Now, what can I do for you?”

He hesitated, then said, “There was a man in the lab this afternoon working on Case 00-03 with you.” His gaze lifted suddenly, and his gray eyes had an oddly possessive glint.

Erin thought she understood. Case 00-03 was to be Ross’s solo project. Once Erin had cataloged her findings, he would then conduct his own examination, comparing his conclusions with hers. One always felt possessive of one’s first case, she reminisced nostalgically. “I was working on 00-03,” she told him. “Detective Gallagher was merely observing.”

“Detective Gallagher? He’s not the one who brought her to us. That cop’s name was Stoner.”

“Yes, that’s right. Detective Mike Stoner.”

“So, what did Gallagher want?”

It was Erin’s turn to hesitate, remembering Detective Gallagher’s almost excessive concern for security. “I think he wanted to look over the premises, make sure our security was up to snuff. Some of the remains we work on represent potential evidence in court cases,” she reminded him. “A lot of good detective work could go down the drain if they were tampered with.”

Ross didn’t look all that convinced. “I guess that explains what he was doing here, but what about the other guy?”

“The other guy?”

“There was another man standing just outside the building, pretending to read a book,” Ross told her. “He looked up when you came out, and he just stood there watching you walk away.”

Erin suppressed a shiver at the notion of someone—anyone—surreptitiously watching her. Among other concerns, her backside was definitely not her best asset.

“What did he look like?” she asked Ross.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. He was older, with sort of grayish hair. And he was big. Not fat, just…big. Muscular.”

“What did he do after I walked away?”

“He got in his car and drove off. But I don’t think he left the campus. I think he’s still hanging around here somewhere.”