A minute she didn’t get.
The hospital room door opened, and Callen froze as his gaze landed on the bed. Her empty bed. It didn’t take him long to register her sitting in the chair across the room. “Get back in that bed.”
“Too late.” She sucked in another breath as she clutched the bra Helen had either found or bought. It took her longer than it should have for her to recognize it as one of hers. In fact, all the clothes were hers, but she hadn’t brought them from Vegas. Maybe items she’d left behind in Callen’s apartment? A load of laundry she’d forgotten? Kind of made her wonder why her ex hadn’t burned them or mailed them. Or maybe he’d planned to and Helen stopped him. That woman was always thinking ahead and seemed to sense more than she was willing to admit. “I’m already dressed.”
The door closed behind him automatically as he crossed the room to meet her. Tearing her bra from her hand, he towered over her with his phone in the other. “Are you out of your mind? You’re four days postsurgery from a gunshot wound. You’re lucky you haven’t torn anything.”
“To be honest, I’m not so sure I haven’t.” Being out of breath wasn’t helping anything. This conversation would go over somuch easier if she could stand. “But if I have to spend another minute in that bed knowing your ranger friends recovered a second set of remains, I might stab someone.”
Because that second set might belong to Iliana Meyer. Could tell them who had locked Maeve in that storage container, put a bullet in her stomach and tried to drown Callen. Could tell them who had killed Lauren and left her bones to erode beneath Kolob Arch. He knew that, and he had to know there was nothing that could stop her from seeing this through to the end. Even with a GSW in her gut.
He tightened his fist around her bra, and Maeve couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the sight of all that muscle in his forearm flexing around black lace, which only hurt more. Nothing in their earlier conversation had hinted at Callen’s thoughts on how they moved on after the investigation—together or apart—but it was easy to imagine picking up where they’d left off. Had he thought about it? Was that something he wanted? He’d forgiven her—words she’d ached to hear since the moment she moved out of their shared apartment—but did that mean more to her than it meant to him? “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Bingo.” Reaching for her bra, she moved to pull one arm through the gown’s sleeve but ran out of energy. Maeve set her head back against the wall. She was going to make it all the way to Hurricane and the medical examiner’s office. She just didn’t know how yet. “Could you please help me? I’m stuck.”
“You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” Callen didn’t give her a chance to answer as he tucked his phone in his back pocket and grabbed the hem of her gown. He made quick work of the ill-fitting fabric, exposing her upper body in one fell swoop. “Holy hell, Maeve. How did you get to the chair?”
“It’s not that bad.” She couldn’t fight the urge to look down, her skin puckering against the chill coming through the air-conditioning vents. There wasn’t a self-conscious bone in her body. She took care of herself for the most part, and there wasn’t a lick of skin Callen hadn’t seen or worshipped while they were together. But she could admit this was different. A piece of gauze and medical tape covered the surgical opening, but rounded bruises—black, green, some purple and blue—haloed the surrounding tissue. She sucked in a shallow breath, not daring to move a single muscle. “Okay. It is that bad, but I’m still not getting back in that bed. Help me up.”
They worked as a team, going slower than she wanted to go, getting her into her bra, then her shirt. Callen knelt in front of her as he tied the laces on her boots, her hands on his shoulders for balance. He was warm and strong and devoted to the point of putting his life on the line, and she couldn’t help but revel in a little bit of that now. While she still had him here. “Any sign of the shooter?”
“Hard to find a man who likes to dress up in ski masks.” He switched to her opposite foot. “Springdale PD has the bullet you were shot with. They’re running ballistics to see if there’s a match in the federal database, but it’s going to take some time. You had the right idea cutting the line by going to the medical examiner’s office for those prints.”
“A lot of good it did us. We still have no idea who broke into your storage container and took one of your Tasers to place at the scene.” Or a motive that told them why. Why Lauren? Why Iliana? Why try to kill Callen? Three people in her personal and professional life, all tied through violence. It didn’t make sense. If this had something to do with one of her past cases, why not target her directly? Why go through the people she cared about? When would it stop? Maeve swallowed, not liking that line of thinking at all or the fact that Helen and Tommy Russell might be pulled in front of the next bullet.
Callen’s hand slid up the back of her thigh as he finished tightening her laces, his body heat penetrating through her jeans. It was almost enough to make her believe they could work things out when this case was done. Almost. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Together.Her eyes burned again. Damn painkillers.
Rising, Callen threaded his arm behind her lower back and dragged her into his side. “Put your weight on me. I can handle it.”
The meaning of that sentence went unsaid.I can handle you. But she couldn’t feed into that hope right now. No matter how much she wanted to. The shooter was still out there. Iliana was still out there, and Maeve needed to find her. Before Callen learned the truth. She settled into his side as they shuffled toward the door in some kind of weird three-legged race. “You couldn’t take it that one time we almost fell down the stairs.”
“That was different. You jumped out from behind the bedroom door and tackled me.” His hand tightened around her back as he tugged open the door. “I wasn’t prepared to be attacked after three days on the road, let alone in my own apartment.”
Her smile came naturally at recalling the look of utter surprise on his face. Right before they hit the ground in a fit of laughter and kisses and touching that turned wildly inappropriate. It’d been one of the core memories of their relationship, mere days after he’d asked her to marry him. The happiest she’d ever been. Maeve slid her hand over his chest. For balance and nothing more. At least, that was what she told herself. Because moments like that didn’t last. They were always overtaken by the bad. “A security operative should always be prepared for an attack.”
“Can’t argue with you there.” He gazed down at her as they navigated their way to the elevator, and the hospital—the PAsystems, the rush of nurses and wheelchairs, and too-bright lighting—faded away. There was only him. The only man she’d ever wanted. And couldn’t keep. Callen lowered his mouth to her ear, whispering, and a shiver chased across her shoulders. “I still plan to make you pay for that little stunt.”
Chapter Twenty-One
“It’s not her.” Maeve’s voice almost gutted him, but it was her struggle to stay standing beside the examination table that had Callen moving. She grabbed backward for the nearest chair, barely catching herself as he settled her in her seat. She’d lost more color from her face and neck. Whether from the realization they were no closer to finding her missing forensic analyst or from her wound, he didn’t know. “It’s not Iliana Meyer.”
“Ms. Perry is right. These remains belong to a male victim.” The ME, Dr. Yarrow, his name tag said, came around the end of the stainless steel table. Callen had never been in a morgue, but the forensic pathologist had taken a cold, uninviting refrigerated room and turned it into something worthy of the families who came to identify their loved ones. The older man cast a glance toward Maeve, then cut his gaze back to the second ranger in the room.
“I had patrols spiral out from where the first set of remains were left over the past few days.” Ranger Murray Simpson folded his arms across his broad chest, unnecessarily exaggerating his size. The former Salt Lake police officer was easily a foot taller and a foot broader than Callen and Dr. Yarrow, stretching his Zion National Park uniform almost to its breaking point. “These were recovered a few hundred meters from Kolob Arch about four hours ago. As you can see, they’re more worn, been exposed to the elements for far longer and broken in some places compared to the ones you found. We brought back as manypieces as we could find, but animals and weather did a number on what was left.”
“They don’t smell like bleach, and they’re definitely not as white as…” Callen swallowed back the dryness in this throat. “As Lauren’s remains.” He didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. Whether so many differences between the two sets of remains told them anything, or they’d come across something entirely unconnected to his sister’s investigation. He also didn’t know whether Lauren was being kept in this exact room or she’d been moved somewhere else, considering they now had an ID. He squeezed Maeve’s shoulder, feeling her pulse ratchet higher under his hand. For the longest time, he’d assumed she didn’t allow herself to feel anything—the abandonment of her mother, the loss of her father, her feelings toward him after the breakup—but the utter devastation etched into her expression told him she felt it all. That she felt too much. “Do you have an ID?”
“I took dental scans as soon as rangers brought him in. I’m just waiting for confirmation. He’s male, so it can’t be your missing victim as Ms. Perry noted.” Dr. Yarrow made another pass along the examination table, once again studying Maeve from where he stood, and Callen’s hackles rose. That was the second time the medical examiner had referred to her asMs.instead ofAgent. The doctor slid aged hands into his slacks, pressing his white lab coat back from a lean frame. “From what little time I’ve had to examine the bones, I’ve been able to fill in some blanks. Late twenties, maybe edging into his thirties. I can’t tell you how long he’s been out there under the extreme conditions of the park for sure, but I can tell you there are several breaks in his legs that are consistent with a fall from a great height. I have little hope this set of bones is connected to your current missing person investigation. Not only from the difference in victimology but also the condition of the remains.These bones weren’t presented as a statement. I think they were just in the vicinity.”
Simpson seemed to stiffen at Callen’s side, drawing himself taller. His voice dropped an octave. “You said you’re waiting for confirmation on his identity. Do you have a suspicion of who he might be?”
“There have only been a handful of missing persons reported in Zion, Ranger Simpson.” A knowing expression turned down the corners of the ME’s eyes, but he held himself confident. “Only two in the last five years. One of those being your brother.”
The air seemed to suction out of the room.
Simpson’s brother had gone missing? All this time Callen had been collaborating with the law enforcement ranger to find Lauren, and the man standing next to him had lost his own sibling in this damn park?
