Page 22 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

LUNA’S BODY JERKED with each bump as Corbin steered the car off the asphalt onto a dirt road bordering the Everglades.

Two hours of driving had brought them to this desolate road , barely visible in the fading light.

The news of Carlie’s death sat like lead in her stomach.

Poor girl. Poor Corbin. Her heart ached for him , for the pain etched across his face when he’d received the call.

This was the stark difference between their worlds.

Her training was with the living, not the dead.

She dealt with abstract threats, faceless enemies, and potential mass destruction.

Her job was to prevent catastrophes before they happened.

To stop the dominoes from falling. But Corbin?

He faced the raw, personal tragedies head-on.

Each case, each victim, was a real person with a name, a face, a family left behind.

He waded through the aftermath of lives lost.

“Pretty sure this is it,” Corbin said, turning onto a gravel driveway.

The car lurched over another bump. A chain-link fence, rusted and topped with barbed wire, enclosed the property. A young officer stood guard at the entrance, blocking the way.

The officer ducked his head to see in the car.

“Evening.” He checked their credentials, his gaze lingering on Luna’s consultant badge, then scribbled their names in a logbook.

“Through there, agents. The body’s in the woods, past the blue hull, about fifty yards in the woods.

” He gestured with his flashlight. “Follow the drive as far as you can, then you’ll see the cruisers. ”

“Thanks.” Corbin rolled up his window and headed into the sprawling junkyard.

The boat graveyard.

Acres of overgrown weeds and forgotten dreams. Hundreds of boats in various states of decay spread out in every direction.

Some, sleek and fiberglass, their lines still hinting at past glory.

Others, hulks of rotting wood and peeling paint, sunken into the earth, consumed by the relentless march of time and the humid Florida air.

The driveway meandered around, then disappeared into the maze of boats and overgrown weeds.

They emerged into a clearing, the ground littered with broken masts, tangled fishing nets, and the skeletal remains of long-forgotten vessels.

More police cruisers were parked ahead, their lights flashing, along with a couple of ambulances.

The doors were open, the beds empty. A group of paramedics stood around, checking their phones and chatting.

She saw the black SUV, its dark windows reflecting the last rays of the setting sun. “Medical Examiner” painted on the side. And in smaller letters beneath it: “Trauma Services.”

Corbin parked behind one of the cruisers. “Stick with me.”

“Got it.” She climbed out, pulling her suit jacket closed, covering the paddle holster clipped to the back of her belt. The sun was beginning to set, but the heat lingered and she questioned the sanity of wearing a suit in the middle of September in Florida. Rules were rules.

Yellow crime scene tape cordoned off a section of the junkyard.

She followed Corbin through a narrow path, weeds brushing against her legs, the scent of mildew and decay filling the air.

Tick check later. Especially around her ankles and the burn bandage.

A group of uniformed police officers stood clustered at the edge of the woods, watching them approach. Recognition dawned in their eyes.

“Hey, King.” A burly man with a thick mustache stepped forward. “You the lead on this?”

“Yeah.” Corbin gestured to Luna. “This is Agent Rosati.”

Agent Rosati. Her heart skipped a beat. He meant the consultant badge, but years of deep cover had ingrained a different kind of meaning to the word agent and extreme caution when meeting strangers.

“Special Agent Ron Ayres, at your service.” Ayres dipped his head and smiled.

“Nice to meet you.” Luna immediately liked the man. He seemed rather unfazed by the situation. Even his wardrobe of a striped, button-up polo under a sports coat, loafers, and a Havana hat matched his casual demeanor.

Corbin swatted the back of his neck. “What’ve we got here?”

“Nothing pretty. Real messed up back there.” Ayres’s mustache twitched.

She shifted her gaze to the line of trees where the crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze. A teenage girl. Back there. Carlie Tinch. The pretty blond teenager she’d seen in the photograph. Was Ayres sure it was Carlie?

She asked, “You’ve seen the crime scene?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ayres blotted his forehead with a handkerchief he’d pulled from his pocket. “Like I said, it ain’t pretty.”

“Never is.” Corbin paused, and no matter the cause of death, she figured this particular victim would be the ugliest case Corbin would ever work. “Who found the body?”

Ayres didn’t have a chance to respond.

“Agent King.” A woman detached herself from the group of uniformed officers and strode toward them. She wore a crisp white shirt and dark slacks. No tie. No jacket. Her badge hung on a chain around her neck.

Special Agent Jody Miller rushed the introductions and said, “Over here.”

They fell into step beside her, listening as she spoke almost rapid-fire. “Witnesses found her a couple hours ago and called it in.” Miller gestured to two men sitting on overturned buckets near a hulking sailboat. She checked her notes. “Brock Hepner on the left and Levi Anderson on the right.”

To Luna, both men looked like a mix of classic surfer and beach bum. Brock had dark wavy hair and wore faded swim trunks, a dirty tank top, and leather sandals. He had a thick black mustache that she was pretty sure he’d regret when the future Brock saw photos of it.

Levi was taller, with long, curly, sun-bleached blond hair and a few days of beard growth. He held a faded red baseball cap in one hand and a dog leash in the other. A muddy golden retriever lay panting at his feet.

“You the ones who found the body?” Corbin asked.

The men stood up and shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “We were just ... you know, looking around.”

“Looking around? Out here?” Corbin glanced over his shoulder.

Brock looked at Levi and said, “Salvaging parts. Looking to see if we could find anything worth selling.”

“I had to take a ... you know...” Levi’s eyes darted to hers, the ground, then back to Corbin.

“Anyway, I went to find a tree. Maizie here followed me cuz I hardly ever have her on a leash. But while I ... uh ... did my business, Maizie took off barking. I called and called, but she wouldn’t listen.

Wouldn’t come back. That’s not like her.

” He reached down and patted her side. “She’s always so obedient.

But she was onto something. I was worried about gators and coyotes so close to the Everglades, so I hollered for Brock to help me track her down. ”

Brock picked up the story. “We finally found ’er, but she was way in there, digging like crazy.

Levi had to put her on the leash to drag her away.

” He shook his head. “Could smell something awful. Thought she’d found a dead animal or something.

That’s when I saw it. Something weird. Like a clump of hair.

I crouched down to get a closer look. Pushed some dirt away .

.. and there was a ... a...” Luna saw his Adam’s apple roll. “A human ear.”

She turned to look at the woods. The stillness. The silence.

For a moment, the junkyard faded away. Luna was back in that dusty marketplace.

Bodies lay strewn across the ground, limbs at unnatural angles.

A child’s doll, stained crimson, rested in a pool of blood.

Lifeless eyes stared back at her. She blinked hard, forcing the images away.

This wasn’t that war-torn country. She was here, with Corbin, facing a different kind of tragedy.

“You guys did the right thing by calling it in,” Corbin said.

“We appreciate your help,” she offered. Especially when their reasons for being out here were less than legal. They didn’t have to report what they’d found. Could’ve hauled it out of here and had a wild story to tell their friends.

“You did good too.” Corbin crouched and scratched behind Maizie’s muddy ears. “Such a good girl.” He stood and dusted off his hands. “Mind hanging tight for a while longer? We might have a few more questions. I’ll get someone to bring Maizie some water. You guys too.”

Luna noticed he’d added the humans last, and she kind of liked that about him.

The men nodded and sat on their buckets. Brock and Levi both petted Maizie and gave her praise. It probably brought them more comfort than it did Maizie. Dogs had a way of doing that for people.

Corbin headed for the wooded area, and Luna followed. He glanced at her sideways. “You sure you’re up for this?”

She squared her shoulders and nodded. “I can think of a million other things I’d rather be doing, but yeah.”

“Me too,” he muttered.

Her gaze swept over the boat graveyard. The sinking sun bathed the junkyard in an amber glow, a fleeting moment of beauty before darkness swallowed the scene. A shiver slithered down her spine, and it wasn’t from the humidity.

They walked into the woods, following a narrow path that curved through a tangle of palmetto bushes, towering pines, and strangler figs that wrapped their tendrils around ancient oaks. The humid air was thick with the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

And something else. Something sickly sweet. Decay.

The path opened into a small clearing. A blue tarp had been strung between two trees, creating a makeshift tent. Floodlights illuminated the area, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Two officers stood guard, their faces pale and drawn. Hands hooked on their duty belts.

A woman wearing a polo embroidered with the Broward County Medical Examiner’s seal, khakis, and blue latex gloves approached them. “Hey, Agent King.”

“Dr. Santos.” Corbin greeted her with a nod. “This is Agent Luna Rosati. She’s consulting on the case.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Agent Rosati.” The doctor wore her dark hair piled in a loose topknot and very little makeup.

There were deep lines at the corners of her eyes, and she had a sharp chin.

The woman was thin. Too thin. Luna figured it had something to do with long nights at gruesome crime scenes like these.

“You have a positive ID on Carlie Tinch?” Corbin asked.

“Tentatively.” Dr. Santos pulled off her gloves. “She’s in early stages of decomposition. The clothing and dental work appear to match. Commissioner Tinch will confirm once we get her back to the lab.”

Corbin’s shoulders sagged. “You’ve notified the commissioner?”

Luna remembered the anguish in the father’s voice, the desperation in his eyes. He’d wanted to find his daughter, but not like this. She looked beyond Dr. Santos to where two techs in white one-piece suits set up another tent over a shallow grave.

“He wanted to be here. But his wife couldn’t handle it.” Dr. Santos wadded her gloves and shoved them into her pocket. “She had a breakdown. They had to sedate her.”

“Probably for the best,” Corbin said. “No parent should see their child like this. Not even a cop.”

Dr. Santos drew in a breath. “And I’m sorry to say, we’ll have more parents to console. We’ve found four graves.”

Luna’s breath caught. “Four?”

Dr. Santos gave her a grim look. “Yes, and we think there are more.”