Stone Cold Heart (Tracers #13)(40)

Never again. Next time he got involved, he was going in with eyes wide open.

Nolan hung another left, taking a street that would loop back past the park. He sped up his pace, letting his thoughts wander, and, of course, they went to Sara. He thought about her mouth and her body and her fingers combing through his hair. The last mile was a blur, and then he was back at his house, sweaty and winded and greedy for the day. He took Thor inside, where he unhooked the leash and went to the kitchen to fill a bowl with water. The dog lapped it up as Nolan filled a glass for himself.

His phone buzzed, and he recognized Sara’s number.

“Hess.”

“It’s me. Are you up?”

Just the sound of her voice made his heart thud, and he knew he was in trouble.

“I’ve been up,” he told her. “You said seven, remember?”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I got here at six.”

“Where are you?”

“The Sangria rock wall.”

He put his glass down. “What’s wrong, Sara?”

“You need to get out here.”

? ? ?

Sara heard him before she saw him. The low rumble of his truck moved past her, and he pulled onto the shoulder. Sara kept her gaze on the digital display, wishing the numbers would tell a different story.

The truck door slammed. She turned around and saw he hadn’t wasted time shaving after she called.

“What happened?” he asked gruffly.

“I started at the wall. Sangria.” She nodded at the rock face that gleamed rosy-pink in the morning sun. “Maisy said that’s where Kaylin liked to climb.”

Nolan didn’t even look. He was frowning down at the device in her hands.

“When I was there, I noticed this bike trail I didn’t know was here. It’s not on the map.”

Nolan looked over her shoulder now at the landscape behind her. Dirt had been shaped into steep mounds and ramps—an obstacle course for BMX bikes.

“It’s soil, Nolan.” She stepped closer. “Not hard like the rest of the park. Everything else I’ve seen here is rock, but then there are these few acres of dirt. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“What is that?” He nodded at the device in her hands.

“Ground-penetrating radar. It picks up anomalies.”

“Anomalies?”

“Soil disturbances. Pockets of air, loose dirt.” She paused. “When a body decomposes, the tissue breaks down, creating a space underground.”

He stared down at her, not even blinking.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“Not yet. But the reading I’m getting is pretty indicative.”

“You’re telling me you think there’s a body buried here?”

“At least one, maybe more.”

? ? ?

Talia squeezed her unmarked sedan between two patrol cars. Nolan’s truck was across the street just beyond a black RV with the Delphi Center logo on the side.

She got out and looked around, unnerved by the crop of blue tents that had sprouted overnight.

“Talia.”

She turned to see Nolan striding over. He had a phone pressed to his ear and latex gloves covering his hands.

“Yeah, I know. She’s here now.” He ended his call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

“What’s with all the tarps?” she asked.

“Sara’s idea. She doesn’t want any more drone footage leaking out.”

Talia glanced at the anthropologist, who was on her knees beside a pit, collecting something with a small tool. More people in blue coveralls worked a pit just a few feet away.

Dread tightened Talia’s stomach as she looked at Nolan. “How many graves are we talking about?”

“Two so far,” he said. “Did you get what we needed in San Antonio?”

She held up a thumb drive. “You have a computer here?”

“This way.”

Nolan peeled off his gloves as he walked past her. He tromped up the stairs to the RV. Talia followed him inside and was smacked by a wall of cold air. The place was frigid. Aaron stood at a counter, tapping away on a laptop computer.

“Nice digs,” she said.

Aaron glanced up. “Welcome to our mobile laboratory, otherwise known as the Ice Hut.”

“This computer free?” Nolan asked. Without waiting for an answer, he sat down at a workstation tucked between a cabinet and a mini-fridge.

“Help yourself.”

Talia handed Nolan the thumb drive, then grabbed a rolling desk chair and pulled up beside him.

“I got copies of all the reports, the interview transcripts, everything,” she said. “But the main thing you need to see is the video. Here, let me navigate.” She reached around him for the mouse and clicked open the only video file on the thumb drive.

Grainy surveillance footage showed a bar parking lot. A neon sign within the frame said RICO’S.

“This bar is on the north side of town, several blocks off I-35.”

“Twenty-three fifty-two,” Nolan said, reading the time stamp at the bottom of the screen.

“Watch,” Talia said.

On the video, a line of people filed out of the bar, several not too steady on their feet. All were men. But then a woman stepped out.