“Ana? You okay?” Benning’s voice from her earpiece pierced through the steady pounding of her heart beating behind her ears. She could still smell him on her, that light hint of pine and man. They’d spent the night memorizing each other’s bodies all over again, releasing the stress, fear and frustration of the past few days to the point neither of them could move. There’d been unspoken promises as she’d stared into his eyes and the world exploded around her, and she knew. Knew she’d failed in keeping emotional detachment from this case. Knew she wouldn’t be able to walk away this time. Knew she couldn’t spend the rest of her life living as a ghost. Knew she’d fallen in love with him and his fearless six-year-old in a matter of days. But then he’d asked her to sacrifice the one thing that’d given her purpose over the years, the one thing that’d kept her going and the guilt at bay. The only thing that could help her redeem herself. “Ana?”
Her throat tightened. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t risk more victims for her own shot at happiness. She removed the device, dropped it on the floor and severed the connection between them with the heel of her boot.
JC and Evan took position on either side of the door leading into the basement, each of them waiting for her signal.
Ana raised her rifle. All her life this darkness—a physical hole in her chest—had followed her around after her sister had gone missing. She’d watched what that single event had done to her family, how her brothers vowed to uncover the truth, how her parents hadn’t been able to live in the town they loved anymore. All that hurt, that pain, had been reignited the night her former partner had called to tell her he’d found Samantha Perry’s body in that alley, and she’d only let that hole become bigger since. Now it didn’t seem so deep, so...empty. And the credit had to go to Benning. To the way he cared for everyone else first, how he encouraged his kids to be the best versions of themselves without tearing them down, and how he was so determined to make her understand she deserved better. Deserved to be happy for once in her life. Shaking her head, Ana rested her cheek against the stock of her weapon. “Let’s do this, guys. We’ve got a missing boy that needs to get home to his dad.”
“On your signal.” JC locked his hand on the doorknob.
She took another deep breath to settle her racing heart rate. “Go.”
The door swung outward, and they all closed in. Their boots thudded on the unfinished stairs leading down into the house’s basement as they cleared the corner and descended onto cement. Old two-by-fours had been stacked to the wall at their right, giving way to an underground cold storage stocked with cans, bags of flour and shelves of supplies.
Raising her weapon toward the ceiling, she flipped on her rifle’s flashlight and skimmed the open cords and piping above. Cobwebs and dust glared back as they maneuvered down what she imagined would be a hallway if the basement had been finished, and into an open space. A single window allowed light to spill across the settling concrete, narrow cracks disappearing under a large piece of carpeting to one side. Only the carpet didn’t look as level as it should be against a flat surface. It dipped toward the center. Ana trained her flashlight on the spot and kicked at one edge. “I’ve got something over here.”
Two other flashlight beams centered on the carpet at her feet as JC and Evan closed in. Crouching, she tugged the corner of the rough makeshift rug, then tossed it aside—and froze. Chunks of cement fell into the hollowed-out floor from the edges underneath the carpet. A hole, approximately six feet long, had been dug into the foundation. There, at the bottom, a plastic bag stained red remained. Flies buzzed past her ear, the slight hint of decomposition chasing back the scent of pine in her lungs. The plastic wasn’t clear enough to see through, but she had a good idea of what was inside. Ana covered her mouth with the back of her hand, but nausea still churned.
“Lo que en infierno...?” Evan said. “What the hell is that?”
“My guess is the rest of Harold Wood.” Ana’s gut tightened. But why separate the skull from the body, and why dig it up after all this time? “We need to get forensics in here to confirm, but we have to clear the rest of the property first. Move.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” JC slowly headed back the way they’d come.
Something wasn’t right. Even if Claire Winston wasn’t involved in Owen’s kidnapping and serving with her unit overseas as she’d claimed, there was a strong connection between this case and the last case that’d brought Ana to Sevierville. Harold Wood. Pressure built behind her sternum as she caught sight of a small red light in one corner of the room, one she hadn’t noticed before. The LED flashed once, then faster until she couldn’t tell the difference between fluctuations. Warning launched her into JC’s side. “Get down!”
Heat and debris seared across her vest as she took most of the blast to protect her teammate. She hit the ground hard face-first, her weapon pinned between her and concrete. Her ears rang as static crackled from the radio on Evan’s chest, her vision darker around the edges. Stabbing pain kept her conscious. She tried to push up but couldn’t get her balance. Where was JC? Evan? Were they injured? Alive? Her eyes watered as layers of dust filtered sunlight coming through the window. Someone had rigged an explosive to keep them from leaving with the remains. She coughed, sending more debris into the air. “Guys.” No answer from her team. “Evan?
