Bone Secrets 03 - Buried

them
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    Jamie studied the calendar on her office computer, tapping her sandaled toe to the soft classical music from her speakers. Two more days. Then she was out of here for a week. Last night she’d painted a dozen paint samples on the bedroom walls, unable to sit still, trying to put all thoughts of the sad crime scene out of her head. She flipped open the color chart from the paint store. How many shades of beige were there? Cappuccino, wheat, sand, Hawaiian sand…
    Her gaze lingered on the dark greens. Forest green really would be great with her wood floors and throw rugs. She flipped the brochure closed and buried it in her inbox. Too many choices. Why did she suck when it came to these types of decisions? She had the same problem at Baskin-Robbins. She had to read every flavor and study the look of every ice cream twice before making a choice. And she always ended up with chocolate chip mint.
    A throat cleared, and her gaze flew to the tall figure at her door. Her heart stopped.
    “Jesus Christ.” She glared at Michael Brody leaning insolently against her doorframe. “How long have you been standing there?”
    Emerald eyes sparked at her. “Long enough to tell you can’t decide on paint.” A slow smile widened his mouth, and Jamie drew a deep breath. He was tan and tall, and his legs and arms were solid, lean muscle mass. She blinked as she caught herself staring and jerked her gaze up to his face. And found herself staring again. His light-brown hair had sun-bleached highlights that her friends paid hundreds for. Not fair that a man should have eyes of that rich color and freaking long black lashes to set them off. Jamie thought of all the tubes of black mascara she’d bought over the years.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “I’m still looking for your brother.” He strolled closer and stopped, studying her perfectly organized desktop.
    Jamie stood. Michael was using his height, looming over her desk. He probably had lots of physical tricks to get answers out of his victims, er…interviewees.
    “I don’t need to tell you where my brother is. He doesn’t like press and just wants to be left alone.”
    Michael pressed his lips together and leaned forward with his palms on her desk. “How much does he remember?”
    “None,” she snapped and took a step back to lean against her office windowsill.
    “Have you talked to the police?”
    “They called last night.”
    “Callahan?”
    Jamie straightened. He knew the detective? Or was he messing with her head? “Yes.”
    “Have you heard from him today?” His eyes were green ice as they studied her intently.
    She shook her head and felt her stomach painfully knot. “What’s happened?”
    “How much therapy did your brother have after he came back?”
    Jamie sucked in a breath. “Get out.”
    “He was tortured, wasn’t he? He probably had nightmares for years.”
    She simply stared. “Why are you doing this?”
    Michael’s eyes softened, and she couldn’t look away. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to understand how your brother thinks. They’ve found a place they believe the children were held. There’s evidence of…Maybe seeing it could help your brother with some memory recall.”
    What was in that place? What’d the police find?
Oh, Chris…
    “No. He shouldn’t see it. I won’t put him through that.” Chris’s screams rang in her head. How many times had she awakened to hear his screams in the middle of the night? His body had finally healed, but his mind…his mind was never the same. Her happy, joking older brother had never returned.
    “Where is he?” Michael spoke evenly, drawing the words out.
    “I’ll tell you the same as I told the police,” Jamie snapped back. “I have a phone number. I leave a message on a voice mail. Sometimes he calls me back or texts me, but the number is always blocked, so I know it’s probably not the number I leave the message at.”
    “Did he come home when your parents died in the car accident?”
    Jamie swallowed hard. “No. I don’t think so.”
    Michael tensed in a way that reminded of her of a hunting bird spotting its prey. He jumped on her words. “Don’t think so? Was he here or not? How long ago was the accident? Two years?”
    “Two and a half.” Tears smarted at the corners of her eyes.
    “Was he here?”
    “I didn’t see him.”
    “But?” His eyes wouldn’t release hers.
    “But I could tell someone had been in my parents’ home. Some photos