Torn - Cynthia Eden Page 0,37

some sick bastard had destroyed her.

And then he’d brought her back and dumped her body as if she didn’t matter.

Dace motioned to him, and Wade moved with the detective back down the path. A final glance showed him that Victoria hadn’t touched the remains. She was just staring at the bag and the bones, her shoulders hunched.

Does she even realize how much she gives away? When she worked her cases, Victoria tried to act as if the remains never bothered her, as if she were comfortable with them. But he knew the truth. Sadness always swept over Victoria with the discovery of each body.

Another one we didn’t save.

“This is Matthew Walker,” Dace said, pointing to a man who waited behind the yellow police tape, a man wearing black running shorts and tennis shoes. His phone was strapped to his arm, and ear buds hung loosely around his neck. The guy was pacing back and forth, nearly bouncing on his feet as he moved, but when Dace said his name, he immediately swung toward the detective. “He’s the one who found the remains. Dr. Walker, this man is Wade Monroe. He’s got a few more questions for you.”

“I thought . . . I thought it was garbage.” Matthew ran a hand over his face. Sweat gleamed on his forehead. “I was pissed that someone had dumped trash on the path, but then I realized I was staring at a freaking skeleton.” His breath heaved out. “At first, I thought maybe it was a joke—­maybe some frat boys had lifted a skeleton from one of the labs at the college and dumped it out here.”

Wade didn’t think this was any kind of joke. “You run this path often?”

“Three times a week.” Matthew put his hands on his hips and rocked forward again, his body seemingly filled with nervous energy. “I try to get in the runs before my classes start at Worthington.”

And they were right back to the university.

Wade slanted a quick glance toward Dace. The detective nodded.

“You work at Worthington?” Wade asked him carefully.

“Yeah, yeah. I teach computer programming.” He rose onto his toes, seemingly trying to look over Wade’s shoulders. “Who was that woman with you? And what’s she doing with the body?”

Wade didn’t answer.

Matthew’s gaze slowly slid back to him. He must have read the suspicion on Wade’s face because he swallowed nervously and gave a little laugh. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did you see anyone else when you found the remains?” Wade asked him.

“No. The place was deserted. The bag was just waiting . . .”

Waiting to be found. In just the perfect spot.

Wade glanced back toward the path once more. He saw Victoria walking toward him. Her face was pale, her eyes so solemn.

He wanted to rush to her. To take her pain away, because he could all but feel that pain surrounding her. But—­Victoria might not want that. Not while they were on a case. Working as a team. So he locked his muscles. He waited for her to come to him.

And when she was close, he caught the light scent of lavender.

“You’re the one who found her?” Victoria asked, staring at Matthew.

He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m Matthew Walker.” He offered his hand to her.

Victoria looked down and seemed to realize that she was still wearing her gloves.

Matthew dropped his hand quickly.

“I’m Victoria Palmer.”

“You’re a cop.”

“She’s a doctor,” Dace cut in. “She’s consulting on this case.”

Matthew looked confused. And still a little green.

Her gaze darted to Wade. “We’re LOST.”

“LOST? What the hell is that?” Matthew wanted to know.

She turned to look back down Jupiter Trail. “It means we were her last option. Only we didn’t find her soon enough.”

HER WRISTS WERE bleeding. So were her ankles. And she’d gone hoarse from screaming.

Melissa had screamed for hours and hours, but no one had come to help her. She’d heard no sounds at all.

Just her own broken voice. Then she was no longer able to speak.

Her throat was burning. She was so thirsty and she . . . needed a bathroom. Desperately. Shame had filled her the first time she lost control of her body. She’d vowed not to do it again but . . .

I’m trapped. Helpless.

How many hours had passed? What was happening? Why was she just being left there?

Locked away. Forgotten. I could starve to death in here. Is that what will happen? Is that going to be my end?

She remembered being at Vintage. Being with Jim. Then . . .