Buried (A Bone Secrets Novel 03) (10 page)

Gerald ran a hand through his own hair. “I’ve looked for him. Every few years, I look. I’ve done every computer search possible. Either he doesn’t exist on paper or he’s changed his name. My money is on him changing his name.”

“He could still come forward. Maybe consent to be hypnotized to see if they can pick some shit out of his brain.”

“And what’s he gonna say? I remember a guy with white hair and some tattoos? I lived in an underground can for two years with another boy? How can that lead back to us?”

“Daniel lived for a long time. Daniel could’ve told him what he knew.” His boss wiped at the sweat on his temple.

“No one knew we were connected back then. A kid wouldn’t have figured that out.”

“Daniel was smart. Everyone said he was a fucking mini-genius.”

“Even a genius can’t add one and one together to come up with five,” Gerald argued.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“He didn’t have enough facts to figure it out.”

“You ask the sister where Chris Jacobs is?” his boss asked.

“Everyone has asked the sister. Police, media. She doesn’t say shit.”

“She’s got to have an idea of where her brother is. Start there. Finish the damned job. I don’t know how I’ve trusted you with anything. Now get out.”

Gerald hated him. “Yes, sir.”

There was a very good reason his boss trusted him. And Gerald hoped one day he’d have the opportunity to ram that reason into his perfect face.

“I’m sorry I cut it short today, Lisa. You gonna keep going?” Balancing on one foot, Jamie pulled her other foot behind her until it touched her shorts, stretching the muscle in the front of the thigh. “I don’t know why it’s cramping so bad.”

Lisa jogged in place. “I’ll do another circuit. Want to try tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think it’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Lisa spun around and dashed off. “Alternate some heat and ice!” she yelled over her shoulder.

Jamie nodded and gingerly headed up the walkway to her front door.
Damn.
Her thigh was really sore. They’d only covered three miles. Half of what she and Lisa usually did several times a week. She’d dig out the heating pad and do some gentle stretching. Drink lots, too. She didn’t think she was dehydrated, but the days had been getting ridiculously hot. It could happen.

Suddenly very thirsty, she pushed her front door open and made a beeline to the kitchen. And froze.
Jesus Christ.
Every drawer in her kitchen had been emptied onto the floor. Every cupboard was open. She slowly backed out of the room, eyes wide at the disaster.

Get out. Now.

“Don’t move. Don’t turn around,” a male voice uttered behind her.

She didn’t.

Something small and hard pressed against the back of her skull.

Her heart started to pound its way out of her chest, her mouth instantly dry, and her vision tunneled.

“I want you to slowly lie down on the floor. On your stomach and put your hands behind you.”

He’s going to rape me.

Jamie didn’t move. If she got down on the floor, she wouldn’t have a chance.

“Get down, now!” he growled.

She shook her head, unable to speak, unable to move her legs.

“Fucking bitch.” He rammed his hand into the small of her back and ground the gun into her neck. “Move it!”

Jamie fell to her knees and winced. He grabbed one of her arms and wrenched it behind her back, the gun still digging into her neck.

“Where’s your brother?”

Chris?
“What?” Her voice squeaked.

The gun dug deeper. “Where’s that fucking brother of yours? The one with the pretty round scars down his face.” He moved the gun around to her cheek and shoved it into her flesh. “You want some matching scars? I’ve got a pack of cigarettes handy.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. The gun hurt, but not as bad as the image of Chris’s skin burning.

“Where is he? I know that reporter is looking for him. Everybody wants a piece of Chris Jacobs right now. The famous survivor.” He spit the last sentence. “Does he really not remember where he was and what happened to him? I bet he remembers my cigarettes.”

Jamie frantically shook her head. “Nothing…he doesn’t…”

Oh my God. He’s the one. He’s the one who hurt Chris. He killed all those children.

“I don’t believe that. And all this publicity is bound to stir up some old memories. I bet he won’t be sleeping very good once he hears about all those little discoveries at the farm. Now. Be a good sister and tell me where he is.”

“I don’t know! I really don’t know! I call a number and leave a message…he gets back to me eventually. I called yesterday, but I haven’t heard back. But Michael…” Jamie clamped her mouth shut.

He burned my brother. All those children…

She felt her skin tear as the gun dug into her cheekbone.

Chris’s nightmares…the screaming…he’s the one…

“Michael? The reporter? He found something? He knows where to find that skinny bastard?”

Jamie shook her head, trying to pull away from the tip of the gun. “He doesn’t know.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” He yanked on the arm behind her back, and her vision blurred.

“I don’t know…I don’t know what you want!”

“I want your brother!” He gave a hard shove, and Jamie’s face slammed into the wood floor.

Every self-defense article she’d ever read scrambled in her brain. One rule stuck out: Fight back and scream!

She rolled over and lashed out with her legs and feet, kicking him in the shins and knees.

She screamed. Every ounce of energy went into her screams and her legs.

Years of running powered her legs, and he stumbled backward in surprise. The gun slipped from his hand, and she scrambled for it. He dove forward, grabbed it, and backhanded her across the face with the gun. The metal tore her lips.

She screamed more. He was on her level now, and she kept kicking and kicking. Arms, legs, gut, ass. She connected everywhere. He scrambled backward, crablike, slamming the gun against the floor each time his hand moved.

Keep kicking! Keep kicking!
Jamie pushed forward, scooting on her butt, using the most powerful part of her body to hammer him with her feet. He grabbed a cupboard door and heaved himself off the floor. He whirled around the corner, out of the kitchen, and ran.

Jamie clambered to her hands and knees and shot up after him. Catching her balance on the doorframe, she saw a glimpse of his shirt as he dashed out her front door.

She grasped the kitchen doorframe with both hands as she stared down her hallway and out into the bright sunshine. Jamie slowly slid down the frame and sat on the floor.

He’s gone. He’s the one…the children…Chris…

She couldn’t breathe, and her heart wouldn’t stop thrashing inside her chest. Her arms shook. She crossed them on her chest, squeezing tight. They didn’t stop.

She needed to call 911.
Now.

The phone on her counter seemed a mile away.

Oh my God, he almost killed me…

She blinked, seeing the cupboards start to shimmy and warp. Her stomach heaved.

Oh crap.

She grabbed a bowl from the mess on the floor and vomited.

Michael threw another pair of shorts in his bag.

“Fuck.” What was wrong with him? He’d planned to be on the road an hour ago, and he wasn’t even packed. His internal alarm clock had failed for the first time in his life, and he had a good idea of why.

He’d been awake half the night thinking about Jamie Jacobs. And spent the other half dreaming about her. It wasn’t until after he’d stepped out of the shower that he realized he was running late.

He’d been disappointed last night when she’d refused to go to with him. He’d wanted her to help deal with Chris when he found him. He wanted her there to smooth his way. And he ached to get to know her better. He scowled into his bathroom drawer, digging for a new razor. Jamie was different. She didn’t
feel like a temporary female distraction. His entire focus was on this woman and how to spend more time with her.

He hadn’t known something was missing from his life until it punched him in the gut.

Jesus Christ. He sounded like a religious convert.

He shoved his feet into leather flip-flops and headed for the front door, his carry-on slung over his shoulder. He checked his pockets. Keys, wallet, phone. Good to go.

His front door slammed behind him, and the heat of the morning slapped his face. It was in the high eighties already, and it was only seven o’clock. How hot would Eastern Oregon be? The east side of the state’s weather was more extreme than the west. Either hotter or colder. He jogged to the black SUV parked in front of his garage, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. He ignored it, planning to return the call once he was on his way.

He was on a search for answers about Daniel. All his life he’d wanted to know what’d happened to his brother, and he was getting close. He could feel it.

Once out of his neighborhood, he shoved the phone in the holder on his dash and glanced at the screen. No name, just a number. His heart pounded. Jamie’s number. He’d never dialed it, but her cell, home, and work numbers were all filed in his memory from his research.

“Return call,” he requested.

Did she change her mind about the trip?

Nearly missing a stop sign, he hit his brakes and commanded his heart to slow.

“Michael?” Her panicked voice filled his vehicle, and his chest tightened.

“Jamie. What’s wrong?”

Sputtering breaths filled the line.

“Damn it, Jamie, what happened?” He grabbed his phone, turned off the speaker, and pressed it to his ear. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine…well…yes, I’m fine—”

“You don’t sound fine,”

“Um…someone broke into my house—”

“Get out. Get out of the house right now.” His grip could have crushed the phone.

“No…it’s okay. The police are here and I’m fine.”

Michael blew out a breath.
Thank God.
“Let me talk to one of them.” It was going to take an hour to get the story out of Jamie. He put the phone back on speaker and pulled a U-turn. Fuck the airport. He headed toward Jamie’s.

“This is Officer Byers.”

“Byers. Is she really okay? What the hell happened over there?”

“She’s gonna be okay. She’s a little banged up. The EMTs bandaged her face. She’s lucky, considering he was armed.”

“He had a gun?” Michael hit his brakes.

“The guy dug into her cheek with it. She fought him off.”

“What?” Michael ground his molars together.

“She fought him off. Who knows what else he would have done.”

“Ah fuck. You find him?”

“Not yet. She got a good look at him. We’ll get him.”

“Let me talk to her again, please.” Michael exhaled a breath that lasted a full five seconds.
She could have died.

“Michael?” Her voice was steadier.

“Hey, princess. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’m not sure why I called you. You don’t have—”

“I’m coming. Don’t argue.”
Nothing would stop him.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“And we’re gonna have a little talk about fighting with men who have guns.”

She gave a choking laugh that ended in sobs.

“Sit tight, I’m coming.”

“Don’t hang up, okay?” she rasped.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”