Wow. Okay. Maeve shoved herself upright to counter the acid working its way up her throat. Peeling off her gloves, she let herself take him in for the first time since stepping foot onto the scene. His uniform of slacks and a button-down almost failed to contain the amount of muscle he’d put on since she’d seen him last. He was a different man altogether at a glimpse, but familiarity bled through in the details of those intense brown—almost black—eyes and the etched lines at the bridge of his nose. The National Park Service ball cap covering his short, dark hair cast shadows along cut cheekbones and the sharpness of his jawline beneath several weeks’ worth of beard growth. He’d never been a beard guy. Never been one to live in the gym, but Maeve couldn’t deny the flare spiking in her belly. He’d always been handsome and knew just how to flash that blazing smile that gutted her every time it was thrown her way, but she had the distinct impression he hadn’t smiled for a long time. And he looked good apart from the severity in his expression, almost daring her to contradict every nasty thought running through his head as he studied her.
“Based on the lack of deterioration of the bones or any signs of osteoporosis, I would place her age between twenty-five and thirty. A trained radiologist and a physical anthropologist will have a more accurate estimation, but she’s fully developed in the ossification centers, which finishes producing bone in the early twenties. There’s also the bones that form sutures in her skull. They’re closed, indicating full development.” Maeve studied the remains, pointing to the skeleton’s hips. “The lack of scarring on her pelvic bone suggests she’s never borne children, and the texture of the bones indicate she is, in fact, female. Mostlikely Caucasian, determined by her height and shape of her eye sockets and nasal bone. Her bones don’t provide evidence of malnutrition or obesity either, so I would be confident in saying she probably weighed anywhere between one-hundred-and-twenty to one-hundred-and-forty pounds based on a healthy BMI for her height.”
A low whistle broke through the hard thud, thud, thud of her heart behind her ears. Ranger Simpson. But Maeve had attention only for Callen. If she didn’t know any better, she would say he might’ve been impressed by her assessment, and a glimmer of hope—of making this right between them—flared bright. Only it didn’t last. As though he’d caught himself, that immovable mask he liked to hide behind slammed into place.
She hadn’t just lost Callen when Maeve had misplaced that notebook.
She’d lost his parents.
She’d lost his brother, Cieron.
She’d lost an entire future she’d imagined for herself.
She’d lost a family.
The summer barbecues and movie nights in the backyard with their favorite comedies queued up on the projector. Swimming in the Russells’ backyard pool or going out to dinner to celebrate birthdays and promotions. Christmas hadn’t been the same with Lauren’s disappearance, like a vital piece had gone missing. This time of year had always been her favorite—a time for family and friends and a feeling of no longer being an outcast—but she would be spending it alone this year.
Lauren had made her part of the family.
And now that family wanted nothing to do with her.
Maeve stripped off the latex gloves that suddenly seemed too tight, all too aware of the empty feeling on her ring finger. Callen’s attention seemed to home in there, too. Like she’dmisplaced her engagement ring instead of him demanding it back. “Has the medical examiner already been contacted?”
“They’ll be here in about thirty minutes.” Simpson set both hands on his hips.
“Great. You’ll want to bring in a forensic anthropologist who can confirm or alter my assessment of the bones and collaborate with the ME.” There wasn’t much more she could do here other than document the scene. Unpocketing her phone, she recorded every angle, close and far, and the area around the body. Several treads interrupted the red sand, but there was something she just couldn’t put her finger on. Maeve lowered her phone and glared up into the cloud-covered gray sky. “Does she seem overly white to you? Like the coloring of the bones is off?”
“They’ve been bleached. You can smell it if you get close enough.” Callen maneuvered for the narrow path between two large boulders to head down the rocky incline. “Surprised you didn’t pick up on that.”
She wouldn’t give in to the taunt. Wouldn’t break under the massive pressure begging her to air their grievances and move on. Because she wasn’t leaving Zion. No matter how hard he pushed. She’d see this through to the end. With or without Callen’s help.
Simpson lowered his voice, his jaw ticking just below his ears. “You’ll have to excuse Ranger Russell. This case hits a little too close to home for him, is all. He’s not normally such an—”
“I’m aware. Like he said, we’ve met.” That wasn’t all that hit a little too close to home, but this was an investigation. She would keep her personal life to herself, even if she wanted to scream.
Simpson nodded toward the skeleton. “You think this is connected with your missing person?”
“I’m not sure yet.” There were still too many unknowns. Pieces she couldn’t put together. She’d been looking for an excuse, she realized. A reason to step into Zion National Park.To confront Callen or to pick up where the FBI had left off in Lauren’s investigation, she wasn’t sure, but when a witness from one of Maeve’s first investigations went missing in the same general area as Lauren Russell, Maeve couldn’t sit back and wait. “There are a lot of similarities between Iliana Meyer and these remains, but until your ME has a positive identification, I’ll have to focus on going over her movements from the weeks leading up to her disappearance.”
“Right. Well, I’m going to be stuck here for the next few hours while the ME takes custody of the body.” Simpson rubbed both hands together. “Ranger Jordan can give you a ride back to headquarters. You have the full support of my division. Anything you need, reach out.”
“I appreciate that, but I’d like to speak to the hikers who found the body before I go.” Maeve was already moving down the path between the boulders Callen had disappeared through. “See if there’s anything else they might remember, or if they saw anyone else on the trail today.”
Simpson crouched in front of the remains, putting his own assessment together. “Let me know what you find.”
Her calves protested the slightest shift in her balance as she hit the bottom of the trail. Maeve sucked in a breath and prepared to face off with the ranger who would do anything to get her out of Zion.
Chapter Three
Too close.
He could smell her perfume. The same one he’d bought her for her birthday three years ago. Something dark and compelling and tied to memories he didn’t want to think about. Callen locked his next breath down just so he didn’t have to inhale it.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Maeve added another few inches between them, literally clearing the air, but some dumb part of him wished she hadn’t.
He’d spent weeks picking out that perfume, burning his nostrils and clouding his head before finding the right one. One that intensified her own natural scent and did something funny to his insides every time she wore it. He hadn’t been able to help himself, skimming his nose along her throat any time she’d walked in a room. The scent had been as addictive as she was, sinking into the fabric of his clothing and bedding. Following him everywhere he went.
Had she worn it today to torture him? What was she even doing here, of all places? She’d moved to the FBI’s Las Vegas office last year. As far as he knew, her jurisdiction ended at the Utah-Nevada border. And the idea she’d specifically responded to this case just because of his attachment to Zion and forced her way back into his life for no other reason than to dig up the past fortified the walls he’d built between him and the time they’d been together.
