Forge starts sniffing at a long sunken spot in the damp earth. Her snarl cuts through the stillness.
I shout over my shoulder, “She’s definitely found somethin’.”
When Forge begins digging, I quickly re-holster my gun and lunge for her. It takes all my strength to pull her back. Low growls vibrate through her chest as she strains to get back to her digging spot. So much for her being well-trained, I think to myself.
Mica curses under his breath and rushes forward to haul Sable back and get her leashed. Her whining becomes sharp and she starts pacing in front of him.
We move closer together with a tight hold on the dogs’ leashes to see what they found. My stomach turns in an instant when I see what appears to be a shallow grave. We’re pretty much too shocked to speak. This is the last thing in the world we expected to see.
The ground is uneven, disturbed in a way that tells me Forge wasn’t the first animal to dig into the soil here. It’s sunken maybe five or six inches.
Mica squats beside it, one hand braced on his knee. Jasper and the others spread around the edges. Finally, my old man runs one gloved hand around the area Forge was digging up. He pulls his hand out. It takes us a minute to figure out what we’re looking at—a decaying human hand. If we weren’t all prior military and lifetime members of an MC, this might be a lot more traumatizing than it actually is.
“This isn’t old,” he says. “Three months.” Then second-guessing himself, he corrects, “Maybe four, at the most.”
No one argues the point because when it comes to dead bodies, our old man knows what he’s talking about.
He brushes the dirt off the fingers revealing red nail polish.
Jasper comes to his feet with his arms crossed over his chest and his expression grim.
“That’s her,” he says. “Has to be.”
“The fuck are you talking about?” I ask, not grasping his meaning. My eyes go back to the disembodied hand.
“Brennan’s missing girlfriend, asshole,” he shoots back.
Slate shoots me a stern look. “You know, the one he told Detective Morgan ran off to the city. The one whose face was splashed across missing person’s bulletins all across the state for the last several months. It’s gotta be that fuckin’ girl.”
I keep my eyes on the dirt. I know all the way down to my bones that my brothers are right. Even though my old man covered the hand with dirt again to keep the dogs from going after it, the long, narrow, human-sized sunken area gives it away. The time frame fits. I can’t not see that dirty, chipped red nail polish in my mind’s eye. My fists clench before I register it happening. This could have been my Emily if I hadn’t protected her.
Jinx wipes sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and glances towards Jasper. “We’re calling Morgan, right?”
Jasper nods, glancing up at Jinx. “You bet your sweet ass we are. This is the big break he’s been hoping for. In fact, we probably should preserve the crime scene as much as we can. Detective Morgan is gonna want to bring the crime lab in on this one.”
The others are all staring at the grave, some with their weapons still in their hands.
I take a step back, just needing a minute to clear my head. Forge strains against the shortened leash I put her on. And I don’t like where this whole situation is headed. I turn and scan the direction she’s straining towards. At first, I don’t see anything except the tree line. But then I drop my gaze to the ground again.
Twenty feet to the left, partially hidden behind a patch of brambles, something catches my eye. It’s a slight indentation in the ground that doesn’t match the natural slope of the terrain.
I move closer, praying that it isn’t what I think it is. The dirt here is firmer, packed down and weathered, but the shape is familiar. It isn’t as obvious, just that I can clearly see that same long, oval outline. My stomach sinks.
“Hey! I think there’s two graves,” I call out, my voice rough. “Looks like it might be older.”
My old man and brothers rush over. Jasper turns first, I see him lower his cell phone, mumbling, “I’ll call you right back.” He shoves his cell phone and the booster Striker gave him back into his pocket.
My old man, Slate, Mica, and Jinx circle around to get a better look. We keep the dogs pulled close. Forge whines and looks up at me but I don’t loosen my hold because this is a fuckin’ crime scene, not playtime at the dog park.
“You’re right. This one is older,” Rock says, kneeling near the edge without touching the soil. “It’s settled more. There is no tellin’ how long this one has been here.” Glancing up at Jasper, he says, “You know what this means, right?”
Jasper jerks his chin in acknowledgement, but I see the shift in his expression as the pieces fall into place.
He grumbles, “One body means someone likely lost their shit and did something they regret. Murder is a crime no matter how you look at it. But two graves this close together, created at different times, means something else is going on. Could mean we have a serial killer on our hands.”
Fuckin’ hell. None of us are rookies. We’ve seen brothers in arms blown up, pulled bodies from wrecks, and were even forced to drop a couple of bodies in our time. This feels different. The way the killer carefully picked pretty spots for each of them, even though he never meant for them to be found. This is something it would take a head shrinker to figure out.
The wind rustles through the trees. Somewhere overhead, a crow calls twice. I can’t help but think two calls, two graves, even though I know there can’t possibly be a connection.
