Janice Johnson - Bone Deep

Grant felt guilty immediately, seeing the way Kat flinched at his words. A part of him wanted to step closer and pull her into a comforting embrace. But he didn’t dare until he could be sure she didn’t have anything to do with her husband’s disappearance.

His mouth twisted in something like amusement. Yeah, imagine how she’d react if he tried to take her into his arms. It would probably be like trying to cuddle a feral cat. Teeth and claws would fly, and he’d bleed.

“Yes,” she said, so quietly he scarcely heard her. “The way people looked at me back then, I knew what they were thinking.” Her eyes met his. “What you were thinking.”

Grant shook his head. “I was doing my job, staying open-minded. No more, no less.” That was a lie, of course, but she wouldn’t welcome the truth.

“And is that what you’re doing now, too?”

His jaw tightened. “Yes.”

“But you’ll let it go if I ask you to?”

“Yes.” After a pause, he added, “For now.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve realized recently how many of my books are really about finding someone who has been missing from our lives. Never knowing what’s become of a loved one would be worse, I think, than losing him or her to a tragic accident. You might be haunted even more if you hadn’t said goodbye on good terms; if you’re gripped by guilt as well as grief.

Bone Deep started from a newspaper article about a woman who has spent years checking with police departments every time human remains were found in hopes they’d be her brother’s. But then I got to thinking… What if your loved one didn’t stay missing? What if he was returned to you after a long time—piece by piece? I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be as gutsy as Kat, the heroine in Bone Deep. Of course, it would help if I had a man as sexy and determined and loving as Grant Haller backing me up.

But back to that theme… Funny thing, but my upcoming book is turning out to be about finding that missing person, too. And, hey! I’ve never lost anyone in my own life. Really.

Happy reading,

Janice Kay Johnson

The author of more than sixty books for children and adults, Janice Kay Johnson writes Harlequin Superromance novels about love and family—about the way generations connect and the power our earliest experiences have on us throughout life. Her 2007 novel Snowbound won a RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America for Best Contemporary Series Romance. A former librarian, Janice raised two daughters in a small rural town north of Seattle, Washington. She loves to read and is an active volunteer and board member for Purrfect Pals, a no-kill cat shelter.

For Mom, who reads every word before anyone else does.

Thank you, Mom, for loving me, inspiring me…and helping make my writing better.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“THIS YEAR’S SNOHOMISH County Business Owner of the Year is…” Behind the podium at the front of the ballroom, Judith Everest paused long enough to search out the five nominees in the crowd, her gaze pausing at each until she reached Kat. Smiling, she concluded, “Kathryn Riley of Sauk River Plant Nursery!”

The room erupted in applause. Dazed, Kat stumbled to her feet.

Four days later, she still glowed at the memory. To think that, four years ago, the business had been close to going under.

Too bad she couldn’t actually slow down to savor the honor the way she’d like. This was spring, for a plant nursery the equivalent of the pre-Christmas rush for most retailers. She was going nonstop.

In as close to a break as she could afford, she’d escaped to one of the greenhouses to pot seedlings. Now she gently sifted a little potting mix around a sturdy petunia, then scooped up some compost from a separate wheelbarrow with her trowel. Even though she worked without pause, with hundreds of seedlings waiting to be potted, she reveled in both the silence and the humid warmth. This was as peaceful as it would get for her until July.

And all that publicity about her being honored by the business community, reported in both the Seattle Times and the Herald, wouldn’t hurt business.

She patted the new soil into place, then set the seedling onto a flat and grabbed an empty pot from a stack of them. She dumped two inches of potting mix into the pot, tucked the next seedling in, then scooped up compost to add richness for the roots.

Snohomish County Business Owner of the Year.

Unbelievable. Four years ago, left alone and facing bankruptcy, she’d clung fiercely to dreams. The nursery had been her salvation, and look what she’d done with it even though she knew no one had believed she could handle the business at all.

Smiling, she carefully tilted the trowel to pour the dark compost into the four-inch plastic pot.

Something fell with it. The seedling quivered.

“What on earth…?” she murmured.

Setting down the trowel, Kat stripped off her gloves and pulled the long, ivory-colored rock from the pot.

Wiping the dark, damp compost from it, she realized, no, not a rock. Porous, it didn’t weigh enough, and widened at each end like a segment of bamboo. She stared down at the thing in her hand, the ball of her stomach knowing what it was before her brain caught up.

A bone. There’d been a bone in her compost.

“Kat?” The voice was loud and close.

She jerked, adrenaline shooting through her, and lifted her head. Her newest employee, a lanky nineteen-year-old named Jason Hebert, had come all the way into the greenhouse without her noticing, probably calling her name all the way. He looked perplexed.

“Are you okay, Kat? Was I supposed to not interrupt you? I’m sorry. I’ll go away…” His gaze dropped to the object in her hand. “Is that a bone?”

“It was in the compost.” She turned it in her hand. “From some animal, I guess.”

He peered more closely. “You sure? It looks like a finger bone.” He held out his own hand and waggled his fingers in a 3-D demonstration. “You know, a phalange?”

No, she didn’t. Although maybe she should, given that she thought about human remains way more often than the average person.

“I’m taking Anatomy this semester. We saw a real skeleton. That’s what this looks like.”

If this was a finger bone, it was larger than hers, Kat couldn’t help thinking. Longer and thicker. A man’s, maybe.

“You know, it’s probably dumb,” she said, giving a half laugh as if no more than mildly startled by the find, “but I’d better call the police just in case.”

“Yeah. Maybe some guy got it sliced off.” Jason sounded ghoulishly pleased.

They did operate heavy machinery at the compost facility not two miles away. She didn’t remember hearing about anyone losing a finger—especially a finger they never found to reattach—but that did make sense.

Or it was a leg bone from something small, something dog- or cat-sized. It was silly to get alarmed because a community college student who’d once seen a real human skeleton had identified this bone. Still…the unease that made her queasy decided her. If it was a human bone…

Oh, God. Hugh.

With an effort she suppressed the sickening mix of dread and…not hope. She couldn’t be feeling hope. Since Jason was still hovering, Kat asked, “What was your question? Can it wait while I make a quick call about this?”