Grave Christmas Secrets, page 17
“Hmm. And you been workin’ hard for that Missouri promotion. I feel ya. Tough call.” Wesley shifted in the seat. “Unless you take me up on my Omaha offer—”
“We’re about thirty minutes from Lincoln,” Keegan blurted.
“Roger that.” Wesley stretched out. “Wake me when we get there.”
Keegan focused on the blurring highway mile markers, digesting the conversation. Would he be willing to forgo the one thing he’d sacrificed to achieve? What if he declined the promotion only to find Taya wasn’t interested? She’d shot him down once. She could do it again.
Worse, if their relationship ended, he’d tanked his dreams for nothing.
Just like Taya had done with Jeremy.
Keegan sighed. No wonder she was gun-shy, afraid to make the same mistake twice. Who’d blame her? His apprehension to take a leap of faith equaled hers. He could gain true love or lose everything he’d worked for. At this stage he wasn’t sure where he stood.
There are no guarantees in life. Grandma Stryker’s words trailed his debate.
His work in Nebraska was ending. Once he left the state, there’d be no connection with Taya. That certain outcome scared him. Long-distance relationships weren’t impossible, but he’d seen them fail too many times.
The thought of never seeing Taya again weighed like a terminal diagnosis. He couldn’t pretend nothing had happened between them. But asking her if he should stay was like making her guarantee they had a future. That wasn’t fair to do to her.
A cartoon soundtrack chimed from Wesley’s phone, jolting the man upright. “Yo,” he answered. “Uh-huh.” He slapped his thigh. “I knew I’d seen her before! Get on it. You’re the best, Ishi. Take care of you.” He disconnected and flashed Keegan a Cheshire-cat grin.
“What?”
Movement in the back preceded Taya’s approach. She leaned over the seat. “Has something happened?”
“Absolutely. Ishi identified the wild woman as Chelsea Brazownick.”
Keegan paused, willing Wesley to speak faster.
“Oh, y’all never heard of her?”
“No.” Keegan shook his head. “Who is she?”
“An entry-level DEA secretary.”
Excitement built and Keegan’s brain lined up the details. “Chelsea had access to case files. She sold off the information to Brando. We just found our mole!”
* * *
After the action-movie events Taya had endured, relief should’ve been her predominate emotion—except it wasn’t, thanks to her eavesdropping. Wesley’s example of the other ATF agent who’d married the scientist she’d protected blasted clear as tornado sirens. The veiled warning said Keegan would lose his job if they pursued a romantic relationship.
Exhaustion from the late hour, lack of sleep and days of nonstop danger weakened her feigned indifference. She’d maintained her acting skills while they’d unloaded and secured the evidence in her lab, but having others around made it easier. Standing with Keegan in her apartment proposed a new challenge. The urge to hibernate combated with her heart’s cry to be near him.
“Cleared.” The unfamiliar Lincoln police officer’s single declaration and knowing nod preceded his exit. He descended the stairs, leaving them alone on the landing.
“Safe and sound.” Keegan escorted her inside.
Taya stepped over the threshold and examined her minimalist furnishings. The latest home trends had never ranked high on her interest list, but her sparse decor brought on a fresh surge of self-consciousness. Perpendicular lines in the carpet, proof of her meticulous vacuuming, emphasized the room’s spotlessness. Her beige sofa, matching recliner and overflowing bookshelf testified to a boring and sterile existence. She didn’t own a TV and knickknacks meant one more thing to dust.
Taya sighed, expelling the last of her adrenaline rush that had started to fade out somewhere on the highway between Ashfall and her laboratory.
Keegan ushered her in and closed the door behind her. “Glad to be home?”
Taya reached into her pocket and groaned. “In the chaos of moving the evidence, I forgot to grab the SIM card for us to view here.”
“It’ll keep for a few hours. Get some rest and we’ll tackle it first thing.”
Taya shook her head. “I should’ve stayed at the lab and finished processing the evidence.”
“Why? You’re already sleep deprived. Everything will wait. It’s safe with real security in place,” he added, no doubt a tongue-in-cheek reference to Folze’s nonexistent security at Ashfall.
“I suppose. I just need a nap, then I’ll go back in and work.” She slipped out of her coat and boots.
“Let the officer downstairs know and he’ll escort you. But do that after you call me.” He grinned, then turned and seemed to scrutinize her belongings. Probably judging her lack of decorating skills.
She walked to the kitchen and dropped onto a chair at the breakfast bar. A strange detachment countered her normal comfort and familiarity.
Snap out of it. Her short-term role as an intricate part of a great crime fighting force was over. In reality, she was nothing more than a dull anthropologist.
Keegan crossed the room, and Taya admired his confident swagger and gorgeous exterior—the kind of man women swooned over. She’d grown accustomed to his presence and dreaded his departure.
“Now this is cool.” He fingered her two-foot Charlie Brown Christmas tree with its single red ornament dangling above the small blue felt skirt.
She shrugged. “That’s the extent of my holiday adornment.”
“I love it, in a humorous we’re-going-shopping-for-a-real-tree tomorrow sort of way.” He laughed.
The promise of seeing him the next day thrilled her. Her pulse increased with each step he took closing the distance between them. Her annoying inner voice reminded her that their return to Lincoln initiated the beginning of the end. They’d secured the evidence in her laboratory, ensured officers would stand guard, refusing anyone entry, and she would begin her processing in the morning.
And with each completed task in Patrice’s case, Taya would get closer to saying goodbye to Keegan. Which was best for both of them.
“We never had a chance to talk with Wesley riding along,” he commented out of the blue.
“He’s quite the character. I like him, and Ishi sounds fascinating,” Taya directed, suddenly nervous.
“I’ll introduce you to her sometime.” He took her hand between his. “With all the commotion, we didn’t address our kiss.”
He was about to tell her how he’d made a mistake and couldn’t lose his job. Taya withdrew from his touch. “Anthropologically speaking, the threat of death emphasizes the human need for physical connection. It was a purely emotional and physiological reaction. You’ve nothing to apologize for.”
A shadow passed over Keegan’s gray eyes, and he leaned closer. “If I offended you, I’m sorry, but I don’t regret our kiss. However, I wanted to explain that’s never happened before. Me kissing someone I was guarding.”
He didn’t want her to think ill or report him to his superiors. “I understand.”
“And for the record, I didn’t react as the result of a scientific survival response.”
She looked up him, feeling his breath warm on her cheeks and swallowed. “Okay.”
“I realize it’s the dead of night and this isn’t the time, but I wanted you to know I care for you.”
What did that mean? The need to escape had Taya jumping to her feet. “Now that you mention it, I am really tired.” She faked a yawn.
He nodded and stood. “Get some much deserved rest. I’d like to help with the evidence processing tomorrow.”
“Will you be one of the security guards watching over me while I work?” she half joked.
“Absolutely. You and I are the ultimate team.”
She yawned for real this time and covered her mouth. The power of suggestion never ceased to amaze her. “Can’t argue there. Thanks again, Keegan.”
Hands shoved into his jean pockets, he looked more like a nervous teenager than a robust ATF agent. Vulnerable and horribly endearing.
Stop that. They’d had a job to do and emotions were neither welcome nor appropriate. A relationship would not work. And she’d tell him so.
Tomorrow.
As if agreeing with her mental berating, Keegan said, “I’d better get going. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Right.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “There’s an officer in an unmarked car watching from the parking lot. And I’m staying at a hotel nearby. If you need anything, call. I’ll be here before the cops are.” He’d already told her the same thing several times, but it appeared both of them struggled with the awkward moment.
“You’d be the first I’d run to,” she blurted. Heat rose up her neck, but she couldn’t divert her gaze.
“I’d be crushed if you didn’t.” He smiled and tugged open the door. “Good night.”
She locked the dead bolt; grateful he hadn’t witnessed her obvious disappointment at his departure. Flipping off the light switch, she hesitated, apprehension filling her chest.
Worry for her safety wasn’t the force holding Taya in place. It was the strangest realization she was alone. It seemed wrong to be without Keegan.
She shook it off. The excitement got to both of them. The kiss meant nothing. This was her real world. Her life. And it’s where she belonged.
Taya turned on the small table lamp and proceeded to the bathroom.
After a long overdue and extremely hot shower, she walked to her bedroom and flipped on the strategically placed night-lights, releasing soft pinks, blues and purple glows. Snuggled under her comforter, she soaked in the calming effects, realizing she wasn’t afraid of the dark. When had that happened? Had she overcome her fears after enduring the school building and cellar? Or was it an aftereffect of being with Keegan?
No. Just as Keegan had said, God helped her. She really could do all things with Him.
Still not her favorite environment, but no longer overwhelming. “Thank You, Lord.”
Sleep beckoned, and she closed her eyes, surrendering to the exhaustion that had tugged at her for the past forty-eight hours. Stretching onto her side, Taya drifted off.
She jerked with the sensation of falling and glanced at the clock. Though it felt like a full night’s rest, she’d only slept a short while. True to its nature, insomnia refused to give her any long-term relief.
Taya rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling, mentally rehearsing the next steps in her evidence processing. With Patrice’s DNA samples already on file with the DEA, the testing would progress faster, providing a confirmation rather than an identification. And Keegan’s family could lay Patrice to rest.
Keegan. Was he thinking of her, too? She glanced again at the clock. Of course not. He was asleep.
Her mind bounced around from everyday concerns to daily tasks, always returning to Keegan.
Stop that. She had no right to even allow herself to go there. Expectations bred disappointment. Keegan would get promoted and go home to Missouri. What better proof the man was a visitor than the fact that he slept in a nearby hotel?
Nebraska was home for her. She had great friends and a wonderful job.
Her sisters and their families lived on the East Coast. They were busy being a family without her, the unwanted third wheel. Never quite fitting in. Always on the outside.
What had Keegan meant when he said he cared for her? He’d been letting her down easy. That was all. Her budding attraction was ridiculous. They’d known each other a short time. She didn’t believe in love at first sight. But she couldn’t deny her feelings ran deeper than she cared to admit.
Her thoughts tumbled out on an imaginary conveyor belt, pushing out stacks of worries, disappointments and impossible hopes.
Another glance at the clock: 5:30 a.m.
Might as well go to the lab and work. The sooner she finished processing the evidence, the sooner Keegan would get on with his life, and she’d forget about him. He’d asked her to call if she decided to go back to the lab earlier, but she had police protection and Keegan needed rest.
Taya pushed back the covers and dressed in dark jeans and a soft ivory cowl-neck sweater. She applied a little makeup and brushed her hair. No sense in going into work looking like death warmed over. Though the real reason revolved around Keegan’s arrival later on.
She grabbed her coat and pulled on a pair of brown knee-high boots. Locking up, she walked down the stairs and headed straight for the unmarked patrol car. Even if she hadn’t known an officer kept watch inside, the vehicle stood out with its large side mirrors and push bumper.
The same man who’d cleared her apartment earlier that evening rolled down the window. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
“Yes, sir, I’m ready to return to the laboratory.”
He sat up in the seat. “I’ll let them know we’re headed that way and follow you to the campus.”
She contemplated arguing with him, then thought better of it and nodded. “Thanks.”
Taya allowed her car to warm, flipping on the radio to silence her incessant mental debate. Christmas music filled the space with the illusion of holiday cheer. Colorful lights glowed from many of her neighbors’ windows and patio railings. Taya’s had none of those things.
She shifted into Drive and made the twenty-minute commute to the University of Nebraska and parked in her designated spot marked with a sign that read Anthropology Professor. Oldfather Hall was a tall brick building across from Memorial Stadium. During football season, the parking lot filled to overflowing. At this early hour, on holiday break, it sat empty.
The officer pulled up beside her and shut off his car.
Taya stepped out of the vehicle.
“I’ll walk you in.”
Humorless and kind of dull? Or tired and overworked? She opted for the latter and followed him down the walkway between the stadium and Oldfather Hall to a glass side entrance.
She pressed her department-issued identification badge against the electronic reader, releasing the lock. The officer tugged open the door, and they entered, footsteps echoing in the empty building. She moved to the elevators and rode to the eighth floor. Taya glanced at the officer’s name plate. Quincy.
Taya led Officer Quincy to the anthropology lab at the end of the hall where a campus officer guarded the double set of black glass doors. He stood taller at their approach.
“I’m Dr. McGill.” She lifted her identification badge.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Emmett.” He barred entrance and access to the electronic security panel.
Taya hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. “Thank you both for your service. I’ll take it from here.”
They ignored her dismissal.
“Dr. McGill, you’ve got ordered protection detail,” Officer Quincy replied.
“And I appreciate that very much. With you covering the elevator and stairs, I’m confident I’ll be fine inside the lab. Additionally—and this is policy, not my preference—neither of you have access in the restricted area. It’s not permitted. You must remain outside those doors.” She pointed to the glass etched with the words Authorized Personnel.
The two officers shared a look, their expressions stiff and undeterred.
“Once I’ve cleared the lab, you may enter,” Quincy replied. “But I’ll stay with you as the evidence must have a second party witnessing at all times.”
She bristled, annoyed by the inconvenience and his reminder of protocol. “Right.” Taya scanned her badge, granting Quincy entrance, and waited beside Emmett.
Quincy returned and nodded his authorization. Just another reason to expedite the investigation. Having 24/7 protection was extremely invasive. She couldn’t have the dynamic duo following her everywhere.
“I’ll maintain watch on the elevator and stairwell doors,” Emmett reassured.
“Thank you.”
Taya walked to the far end of the long rectangular room. She again pressed her ID badge to the reader, releasing the lock, and entered. Her windowless corner office held two large computer monitors, a plywood desk and a small couch. Taya flipped on her desk lamp, then hung her coat and purse on the hooks behind the door. She booted her department laptop, then returned to the main area.
Taya moved to the locked evidence closet separating the wet and dry labs. She withdrew the box and envelopes for Patrice Nunes’s case and placed the items on the closest of the centered five steel tables. She passed the custody log to Officer Quincy for his initials, then he relocated to a chair against the far wall facing her.
The security was overkill with Brando in custody, an APB on Chelsea and Oldfather Hall locked down with the campus police monitoring everything.
She couldn’t be safer.
THIRTEEN
Taya delved into her routine, flipping on the fluorescent overhead lights and organizing her workspace. She donned her white coat and a new pair of purple surgical gloves. The familiar tasks rejuvenated her.
She distributed the box contents on the steel table, common to medical examiners and coroners. Other than his presence in her peripheral, Officer Quincy remained quiet, perched on his seat.
Taya organized the remains into the proper skeletal order, leaving space for the missing bones.
“Where are the rest?” Quincy moved beside her.
“It’s unusual to find a complete skeleton in the cases like this.” Taya slipped into the role of professor. “Often animals will invade the grave and make off with parts. A full skeleton isn’t necessary for an identification, although it’s nice to have. We use whatever we can recover.”
“Bummer.” He returned to his perch on the chair and withdrew his cell phone, swiping at the screen. She recognized the sounds of an app word game.
