A Grave Calling Read online

  A Grave Calling

  By Wendy Roberts

  There had been no attempt to bury the dead girl, naked except for the white ribbon tied to her wrist

  Twenty-five-year-old Julie Hall has a unique ability: when she takes up a dowsing rod, she finds not water but bodies. To Julie, it’s a curse, not a gift, and one she rarely uses—she prefers her quiet life in a trailer, with her grandfather and her dog for company. But when FBI agent Garrett Pierce shows up at her door seeking help with a case, she has no choice but to assist with their search.

  Three girls are still missing. The killer is still out there. As bodies are discovered and more girls disappear, the case becomes almost more than Julie can bear. And when the killer turns his sights toward her, even her growing relationship with the protective Agent Garrett may not be enough to save her.

  This book is approximately 74,000 words

  Carina Press acknowledges the editorial services of Deborah Nemeth

  Dear Reader,

  I love the summer. I hoard most of my vacation for the summer months because I live near the ocean, so I like to spend my time at the beach, Jet Skiing, drinking frozen tropical drinks and, of course, reading. I always try to stockpile books I’m looking forward to for these lazy days. If you’re like me and you want to always make sure you have something great to read on vacation, I have some books you’ll want to check out!

  Rhenna Morgan is back with her badass good guys of the Haven Brotherhood in Claim & Protect. Natalie’s only interest is in making a fresh start. She’s a woman with a plan and the plan doesn’t include a man with secrets, no matter how sexy he is. Trevor had no interest in settling down, but there’s something entirely too appealing about this woman he can’t stay away from. There’s only one thing to do—change his plans...and hers. Jump into this series now, or go back and read Rough & Tumble and Wild & Sweet—you’re going to want to read them all once you read one!

  Readers loved male/male romance Off Base by Annabeth Albert, and now she’s got a new book in the Out of Uniform series. After a mission strands them in the jungle, two best friends and fellow SEALs must confront their long-buried passion for each other and decide if they have something worth fighting for back home. Buy On Point today.

  Julie Hall is an unintentional corpse magnet who can find the dead. Three girls are still missing. The killer is still out there. And when the killer turns his sights toward her, even her growing relationship with the protective Agent Garrett may not be enough to save her. If you’re a mystery fan, you need to read A Grave Calling from Wendy Roberts, a book that made our entire acquisitions team say “I love it!”

  Everyone gets a happy ending as Jade A. Waters brings her erotic romance trilogy to a sexy conclusion, following The Assignment and The Discipline. In The Reward, Maya Clery and Dean Sova’s passionate exploration has gotten as hot as their love has grown deep. But once they move in together, their dynamic is tested with dangerous connections to the distant past in a story of desire, empowerment and the strength only found in a lover’s arms.

  Easygoing mechanic Bryan doesn’t believe in soul mates, much less dragons, but he’s confronted with both when rescue diver Deke comes into his life. When Deke shifts for him, Bryan decides he must be dead. After all, that’s much easier to believe than the truth. Let yourself be Seduced by the Tide along with Bryan and Deke in Sean Michael’s latest male/male erotic paranormal romance.

  Speaking of erotic, have you picked up one of Brianna Hale’s naughty novellas yet? In her newest, Princess Brat, tantrums, tricks and insults won’t get Adrienne’s bodyguard off her back, and she’s about to find out what happens to bratty little girls who provoke a Dom—they get put over daddy’s knee. Looking for another novella to spice up your life? Little Dancer, Brianna’s debut erotic romance, will heat things up.

  Kerry Adrienne returns to the world of the Shifter Wars with Taming the Lion. The battle between the lions and bears decimates Deep Creek, and one of the heirs to the lions’ throne is saved from death by a beautiful bear medic who’s torn between her allegiance to her den and her attraction and obligation to the wounded lion. Want to start at the beginning? Pick up Waking the Bear, available now.

  Here at Carina Press, we love a good heist or caper romance, so we decided to publish Caught in the Act: A Jewel Heist Romance Anthology, containing three charming and seductive heist novellas. In “Hoodwinked Hearts” by Ainslie Paton, two thieves collide in a high-stakes dirty double cross that would be strictly business...except Cleve Jones and Aria Harp were childhood sweethearts before betrayal broke them. Can they steal each other’s hearts again?

  The one thing reluctant debutante Anastasia Staffordshire wants most in the world is the diamond that bears her family’s name. Standing in her way is sexy head of security and lifelong crush Jake Hoffman. Her plans to seduce the diamond out from under him never included his dominant personality or her feelings getting in the way. “Rough Edges” by Emma Sinclair will capture your imagination.

  And professional jewel thief Adam Patrick Henry and disgraced technology genius Jessica Hughes team up—temporarily—to foil a diamond-smuggling plot, but their sizzling attraction might be even more dangerous than the heist in “Strange Tango” by Michelle Dayton. Check out all three of these fun novellas in June.

  Pick up one of our June releases—or check out our extensive backlist for a new favorite to fall in love with this summer.

  As always, until next month, my fellow book lovers, here’s wishing you a wonderful month of books you love, remember and recommend.

  Happy reading!

  Angela James

  Editorial Director, Carina Press

  Dedication

  All the words in this book are fiction except these: I love you, David Cain.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Wendy Roberts

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  The first time I picked up dowsing rods I knew I was different. Gramps said that if you had the knack, they’d help you find water. But I always found bodies. Buried deep or shallow, long ago or yesterday—put the rods in my hands and I was drawn to the dead. A damn corpse magnet, that’s me.

  I sat at my kitchen table eating a dinner of tomato soup thickened with crumbled saltines. My Rottweiler was a heavy and comforting weight across the top of my feet but, abruptly, Wookie was on his feet with the rumble of a growl low down in his throat and his ears pressed flat against his sizable noggin. Seconds later, headlights flashed across my window, followed shortly by the sound of a car door slam and the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path that led from the weed-choked drive to my door. Wookie’s snarl became a raucous, thundering bark that reverberated inside my mobile home. I got up and reached for the shotgun that leaned casually against the wall next to the wastebasket. I held my breath and waited.

  The footsteps grew closer and climbed the two wooden steps to my door. There was a single, sharp knock.

  Wookie went ballistic. He would’ve torn right through the flimsy aluminum door and torn the ass off the visitor if I’d given the word. And he really, really wanted me to give that word. Spittle from his teeth sprayed m
y bare legs as he wailed and bayed at the door.

  “Hush.”

  The dog offered me a reproachful glance and woofed a couple times more for added measure. He wanted to continue his rampage to protect me from the unseen bogeyman, but when I hushed again in an implacable tone and placed a firm hand on the top of his head, the barking stopped. Still, his obsidian eyes never left the door and his defensive stance did not change.

  “State your name and business.” My voice was brisk and I swallowed anything near fear that would’ve caused the tone to tremble.

  There was no immediate response. An uneasiness crept under my skin during the brief pause. I released the safety and pumped the shotgun. The ratchet sound was an unmistakable warning.

  “State your name and business,” I repeated, shouting this time. Now my voice wavered a little around the edges of the words as I pressed the butt of the gun snugly against my shoulder.

  Please do not make me reach for my inner Annie Oakley because she often hangs out with my inner Calamity Jane.

  “Special Agent Garrett Pierce with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I’m here to talk to Delma Arsenault.”

  A hand appeared in the window and pressed official identification between the gap in the faded Priscilla curtains.

  “Well, shit,” I muttered on a loud exhale of air that hissed between my gritted teeth.

  I clicked the safety back on and lowered the shotgun just as my cell phone rang in my pocket.

  “Yeah, Gramps?”

  My gaze automatically skipped out the kitchen window and a quarter mile down the gravel lane to his house mostly hidden by a cluster of cedars. In stark contrast to the dusky evening, I could just make out the soft glow of light from his kitchen window.

  “You’ve got a visitor. Sorry, I was in the crapper and he got by me. Want me to come over?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “You sure? I can be there in a heartbeat.”

  “Nah, I’ve got this, Gramps.”

  “Is it a cop? Looked like it might be an undercover-type vehicle.”

  “Something like that. I’ll call you once he’s gone.” I ended the call and blew out a long, frustrated sigh when there was another pounding on the door.

  “Delma Arsenault?”

  Wookie resumed barking, his back coiled muscle and his broad face lifted to the ceiling.

  “Just a sec!” I shouted back.

  “Lay down,” I told Wookie and pointed to his worn foam bed in the far corner near the washroom.

  The dog grumbled, walked over to his bed and stood on top of it with his head low and watchful. He refused to lower his body onto the bed and, as he watched me go to the entrance, his body was taut muscle waiting to spring. This Garrett Pierce of the FBI better behave or else Wookie was going to take a hunk out of his ass.

  When I opened the door the man who stood in the doorway took a step forward and nearly filled it. A hundred acres of inky darkness from the onetime farm beyond filled the void behind him as he held his identification a couple inches from my face. A damp breeze whistled in around him as I took the leather badge holder and stared at the picture and then at him. It was an awkward photo of the agent, all serious, clean shaven, in a suit and years younger. The man who stood in front of me was in contrast wearing a T-shirt and stiff new jeans and sported a scruff of coarse black-and-gray bristle on his chin. The dark bags under his eyes said that he didn’t sleep well. My guess was that he had at least twenty years on top of my own twenty-five.

  “What can I do for you?” I tossed his ID back, and he caught it smoothly midair and it disappeared inside the back pocket of his designer denim. He closed the door behind him with his elbow, not taking his eyes off mine.

  He stared pointedly at the shotgun still in my hand. If he knew what a bad shot I was he wouldn’t look so concerned. I couldn’t hit an elephant if I was riding one. I turned and put the gun back in the corner, then picked up a stack of old newspapers covering the seat of the vinyl booth.

  “Have a seat.” I slipped back into my own spot and casually resumed eating my soup as if I didn’t give a rat’s ass who he was but, honestly, my heart was pounding so loud in my ears I could hardly think straight.

  When Agent Pierce took a step toward the table, Wookie growled.

  “Wookie, down,” I ordered. The mutt dropped with a heavy fwump into his bed while he released a sullen and derisive snort.

  “Wookie?” The agent smiled as if this was the best joke he’d ever heard. “Someone’s a Star Wars fan.”

  “The name came with the dog.” I slurped a spoonful of soup. “It wasn’t my business to change it.”

  The agent slid into the booth across from me. I ate my soup while he discreetly glanced around my small two-bedroom trailer; his watchful gaze paused at the pile of newspapers I’d placed on top of others on the counter, and skipped over the sparse decor and the worn lino. His keen eyes unnerved me when they returned to my face.

  “So you are Delma Arsenault?”

  “Nobody calls me that.” I lifted the bowl to my lips and drank the last of the tomato soup, then got up and put the bowl in the sink.

  “Right. They call you by your middle name. Julie. And by your grandfather’s last name. Hall.”

  “You’re just a frickin’ Wikipedia of knowledge, aren’t you?”

  He shrugged and stared hard. I became keenly mindful of the fact I was in short shorts and a low-cut tank top. Not exactly the attire I would’ve chosen for a meeting with the FBI. I crossed my arms over my breasts and returned to my seat.

  “Sounds like you made it your job to know everything about me.”

  “Not everything,” he admitted.

  He glanced warily to his left and I smiled. Wookie was sneaking over as stealthily as a hundred-thirty-pound dog can sneak. He flopped down on my feet before the agent continued.

  “I know you’re twenty-five. Raised mostly by your grandfather who lives in the house up the road. You graduated from the local high school and work at the gas station in town.”

  I could feel a defensive nerve twitch in the edge of my jaw. He thought he knew me. Was going to try now to wow me with his expertise. I didn’t like it one bit but I leaned back in my seat and waited.

  “Also,” he added, “you have a reputation for finding dead people.”

  I didn’t even blink. Did he expect me to deny or confirm? I did neither, just let it hang in the stuffy air between us. He did nothing to fill the awkward pause and finally I had to say something.

  “So where are you from? Seattle? You didn’t drive two hours up the I-5 to tell me what I already knew. With all your FBI know-how—” I flicked my hand contemptuously in his direction “—I’m sure you could’ve used some of that skill and expertise to find my phone number.”

  “I tried. You didn’t answer any of my calls.”

  A loud snort of laughter escaped my lips before I could swallow it, and I covered my lips quickly with my hand. “Of course I didn’t answer. Who the hell answers calls from an unknown number? Not me.”

  “And you don’t have voice mail.”

  Are we seriously going to sit here and discuss my cell phone plan?

  “Thought about texting you. But I got the feeling you wouldn’t have replied. Besides, this is something better discussed in person.” He folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him. There was a distinct indent on his ring finger where a wedding ring used to be, like it had cinched the skin and bone for many years before being yanked off.

  I stared at his hands and waited.

  “Maple Falls. Arlington. Alger.”

  My throat tightened as the town names fell like hot irons and sizzled in the space between us. Three different Washington towns. Quiet places. Where three different teen girls had been abducted. For weeks th
e news had been filled with morbid conjecture and grim suppositions while search parties scoured the state, and families held candlelight vigils pleading for information.

  “You caught him then?” I couldn’t keep the hopeful expectation from my voice.

  There was a flicker of something across his face before he nodded. “We have someone in custody. He’s given us a possible location of...”

  “The bodies,” I finished. I drummed my fingers anxiously on the table between us. “So you know where they are. Why can’t you just go and get them?”

  “The location is vague and it could easily take a week for a crew to dig up someone’s property. There are acres of land, and he claims he doesn’t know exactly where so it was suggested this might be more expedient...”

  His gaze faltered then and a flash of vulnerability flicked across those dark eyes before they cooled. He felt guilty. Like it was his own fault he hadn’t been able to squeeze the precise location from whatever sicko got his rocks off taking girls and killing them for pleasure. Maybe he had a daughter the same age and that stoked his shame.

  “So you just want me to try to find the bodies.”

  “If you can.”

  He straightened then and coated the request with a smile, trying to make it seem like this was an impromptu and casual request. As if he wasn’t going to try and force me to help, or even threaten or guilt me into it if I dared refused. He was a man of facts and the law. Even through the easy grin I could feel the underlying irritation. He didn’t think for a second I could find shit and it bit him in the ass to come here.

  I untangled my feet from Wookie, got up, opened my fridge and pulled out a Coke. I raised a can in question to Agent Pierce but he politely shook his head. I figured him for the type who drank aged scotch, five-dollar coffee and juiced lemongrass. The thought made me smile. As I returned to the cracked vinyl booth and sipped my cola, Wookie repositioned his body to take possession of my feet while I ran a few calculations in my head.

  “Three hundred eighty-five dollars.”