“Dr. Campbell!”
At the sharp voice, Lacey popped out of her coffee musings, froze, and fought the instinct to look for her father—also Dr. Campbell. The bright blue tarp at Lacey’s snowy boots framed the partial recovery of a skeleton. Another step and she would’ve crushed a tibia and sent Dr. Peres’s blood pressure spiking through the tent roof. As she ignored the doctor’s glare, Lacey’s gaze locked on the bones and a sharp rush surged through her veins at the sight of the challenge at her feet.
This was why she accepted assignments in freezing weather. To identify and bring home a lost victim. To use her unique skills to solve the mystery of death. To put an end to a mourning family’s questions. To know she made a difference.
The cold faded away.
The skull was present, along with most of the ribs and the longer bones of the extremities. At the far end of the tent, two male techs in down jackets sifted buckets of dirt and rocks through a screen, painstakingly searching for smaller bones. A huge, gaping hole in the concrete wall of the crawl space under the building indicated where the remains had been discovered.
“Don’t step on anything,” said Dr. Peres.
Nice to see you, too.
“Morning.” Lacey nodded in Dr. Peres’s general direction and tried to slow her racing heart. Her eyes studied the surreal scene. Bones, buckets, and bitch.
Dr. Victoria Peres, a forensic anthropologist, was known as a strict ball breaker in her field, and she didn’t take flak from anyone. At six feet tall, she was an Amazon incarnate. A recovery site was her kingdom, and no one dared step within breathing distance of her sites before she gave her assent. And don’t dream of touching anything without permission. Anything.
When she grew up, Lacey wanted to be Dr. Peres.
Lacey had worked with the demanding doctor on four different recoveries before the doctor trusted her work. But that didn’t mean Dr. Peres liked Lacey; Dr. Peres didn’t like anyone.
Black-framed glasses with itty-bitty lenses balanced on the narrow ridge of the doctor’s nose. As usual, her long black hair was in a perfect knot at her neck. No stray hairs had escaped the knot, even though the doctor had been on site for five hours.
“Nice you could make the party.” Dr. Peres glanced at her watch and raised one brow.
“I had to wait ’til my toenails dried.”
A sharp snort came from the woman and Lacey’s eyes narrowed. Wow. She’d actually made Dr. Peres laugh. Well, sort of. Still, it should give Lacey some bragging rights among the ME’s staff.
“What’d you find?” Lacey’s fingers yearned to start on the puzzle. This was the best part of her job. A mystery to decode.


Alex Kinton pulled his SUV to a lurching stop, choosing the smallest puddle to park in, and then sat and absorbed the gloomy tableau before him. Wet, foggy, cold, and wet. A close-knit circle of red parkas turned his way. Even from fifty feet away he could see and feel the tension in the postures.
He wasn’t welcome.
He didn’t blame them, but he also didn’t care.
He had a plane to get to.
Alex forced himself to open the door and step into the bitterly cold air. Christ. Fucking weather. No turning back. He ran a restless hand through his hair and pulled up his hood as goose bumps spread across his arms.
One of the red parkas stepped out from the circle as Alex worked his way across the mud and muck. His lungs contracted at the stabbing chill in the wet air. It smelled like snow. That fresh-scrubbed, icy smell that came before the skies let loose with the white stuff. Had to be close to freezing. He couldn’t stop a full body shudder and shiver and hoped the onlookers hadn’t noticed. Why hadn’t the crash happened in the middle of August? When it was hot enough to wear shorts?
The man in the parka approached, holding out a hand in greeting, but his brown eyes were cautious. The dark man looked to be in his fifties, an air of natural leadership emanating from him.
“Alex Kinton?”
Alex nodded. “You must be Collins. The boss said you’d have a pack and equipment ready for me?”
Collins’s chin jerked at the curt tone, and Alex levelly met his gaze. He didn’t have the time or patience for how-do-you-do chitchat. His stomach abruptly cramped, reminding him he’d skipped breakfast. The gut pain coordinated with his growing headache from ignoring his medication last night and this morning. He’d wanted a clear head to meet the plane so he’d deliberately left the small orange pill bottle on the shelf.
Now he had a clear, pounding head.
Collins nodded slowly, his gaze plainly assessing. As if he’d decided something his eyes suddenly cooled and his lips thinned. “I’ll get you a pack. This is the team that’s going in. Jim’s in charge.” Collins tilted his head at the four remaining men, turned his back, and strode to his truck.
Alex let his spine relax a millimeter. Collins had recognized the persona Alex had presented. A soldier reporting for duty. No opinion on the task ahead, a simple acceptance of what was thrown on his plate. Locked, loaded, and ready for action.
He turned toward the others, sucking a deep breath to fill his lungs. Wondering which red parka was Jim, Alex solidly met each man’s eyes. Whoops. The last person was a woman. Her mouth twitched and her dark eyes danced in amusement and confidence at his obvious surprise.
Alex froze. His vision tunneled on her face, and her eyes widened a fraction. Their eye contact splintered his carefully constructed wall of indifference. For a split second Alex didn’t feel the cold, his concern about the missing plane evaporated and his mind became refreshingly clear. She bit her lip and glanced away, breaking the connection.
Alex’s brain slammed back to the task at hand and the muddy woods.
With her height, hood, and bulky parka she’d blended neatly with the men. A big gray and white dog sat at her feet, studying him with a keen blue gaze, its tail happily wagging. Alex’s gaze went back to the other men, and he blinked at the hostility that’d crept into their faces as he’d stared at the woman. He stiffened.
At least the dog didn’t seem to mind his presence.