Page 23 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

FOUR GRAVES. Four bodies. And more.

Corbin could feel the blood drain from his face. A coldness settled in his gut. He’d been so focused on finding Carlie, on bringing her home safe. From addiction. At worst, trafficking. He’d never considered...

Four families. Four lives shattered. This wasn’t just a missing persons case anymore. This was something else. Something monstrous.

The relentless drone of cicadas filled the air, a high-pitched whine that grated on his nerves. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back, the humidity clinging to him like a second skin.

Floodlights, harsh and white, illuminated a section of the woods, casting long, grotesque shadows across the forest floor.

Corbin stood with Luna, observing the forensic team as they worked to uncover the remains.

To him, their white Tyvek suits made them look ghostly against the dark backdrop of the woods.

Blue tarps, strung between the trees, created a series of makeshift tents.

Each one marked a grave. The tarps also served another purpose—keeping prying eyes and news cameras at bay.

As if on cue, the distant thrum of helicopter blades cut through the air.

He glanced up, though he couldn’t see much past the dense canopy of leaves.

A news chopper circled overhead, no doubt hoping for a glimpse of the grisly scene below.

He was grateful for the tarps now, providing at least some privacy and dignity for the victims.

A massive golden retriever sniffed at the ground, its tail wagging as it moved through the undergrowth.

For a moment, Corbin thought it was Maizie, the surfer’s dog.

But then he noticed the HRD label on the vest. A Human Remains Detection dog.

He’d overheard the handler, an older man named Chuck, call the dog Remy.

“Hey, Chuck! Bring Remy this way!” a tech called out from a nearby clearing.

“Come on, Remy,” Chuck said. “Find it, boy!”

The dog perked up, its demeanor shifting as it focused intently on the ground near the tech. The dog paused, circled, and sniffed again. Remy lay flat to the ground and whined.

“Good boy.” Chuck crouched beside the dog and marked the spot with a small orange flag before giving Remy more praise and affection.

Another grave. How many more?

“We’ve only uncovered two of the bodies so far,” Dr. Santos was saying. Corbin followed her to the second tent with Luna keeping some distance a few steps behind.

“Carlie was the first.” Dr. Santos knelt and brushed soil away from the body of Carlie Tinch with a small brush. The young girl’s remains lay partially exposed. “We’re moving slowly to preserve any evidence.”

Corbin felt a knot tighten in his stomach. This was no place for a child, but from the looks of it, she was at least fully clothed. He studied the shallow grave. “Do we have an ID on the second girl?”

“No, that’ll be your department. We’re calling her Jane One for now.

I only recognized Carlie because the commissioner ensured my office checked every Jane Doe that came through for his daughter.

” Dr. Santos waved them over. “Come closer. I need to show you something that might be difficult to see.” She glanced at Luna. “You okay?”

He glanced back at her. Had she ever seen a body like this? “Luna?”

She nodded. “I’m good.”

He shuffled around the grave and stood behind Dr. Santos, peering over her shoulder.

Dr. Santos used a gloved finger to lift Carlie’s shirt enough to reveal her torso. She clicked on a penlight and shone the beam under the shirt. “See this?”

He moved to see under the shirt and felt his eyes bulge.

A Y-shaped incision ran from Carlie’s collarbones down to her waist. The edges were neat and precise, held together by a series of small, evenly spaced sutures.

He tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

This couldn’t be right. It had to be a mistake. This looked exactly like...

“An autopsy incision,” Luna said.

Dr. Santos nodded. “That’s what I initially thought too. But look at these suture patterns. There are actually two distinct surgical interventions here.”

Corbin leaned in, forcing himself to study the incision. “Two surgeries? How can you tell?”

“See these older scar lines?” Dr. Santos pointed to faint whitish marks partially obscured by newer incisions.

“The first procedure appears professional. Precise technique, minimal scarring. But this second procedure ...” She traced along the fresher incision.

“Different suture pattern, less careful. And notice how the tissue is collapsed here and here.”

Corbin still wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

“The second incision follows the same path as the first,” Santos continued.

“But see how the chest cavity appears sunken? Something was put in during the first surgery, then everything was taken out during the second. I can’t be certain until I get her to the lab, but I suspect multiple organs are missing, not just whatever was the target of the initial procedure. ”

Beside him, Luna stood. “Organ harvesting?”

“Possibly, or something more ... complex,” Santos said, lowering Carlie’s shirt.

The penlight clicked off. “The timing between procedures is unusual. First surgery appears to have healed considerably before the second was performed.” Dr. Santos’s tone was clinical but not unkind.

“And based on the precision of the initial incision versus the second, we’re looking at different surgeons. ”

A wave of nausea rippled in his gut. He’d seen a lot in his years as an agent, but this .

.. this was beyond anything he’d encountered.

The idea that someone could do this to a teenager, to any human being, shook him to his core.

He found himself silently praying for strength, for wisdom, for any kind of guidance in the face of such evil.

“So, she didn’t suffer?” He clung to the one small mercy in this horrific situation.

“It’s unlikely she was aware of what was happening,” Dr. Santos said.

“What about the other victims?” Luna asked.

“Jane One has the same incisions,” Dr. Santos said. “We’re still uncovering the other two graves.”

“Three,” Corbin said.

The medical examiner craned her neck to look up at him.

He pointed to an orange flag. “The HRD might have found another.”

Dr. Santos made a sound that sounded like a groan. “I hadn’t noticed. It’s going to be a long night.”

“This is someone’s dumping ground,” Luna said.

“Again, that’s your department.” Dr. Santos stood. “But looks to me like you might be dealing with something big.”

Understatement of the year. This could be the work of an organ harvesting operation, or a serial killer, though he didn’t want to mention the latter. One leak to the media and they’d be overrun.

No matter what they were dealing with, the implications were disturbing. “How long has she been here?”

“Best guess? About two weeks,” Santos said, glancing at her notes. “The other victim, Jane One, has been here three to five weeks.”

Corbin frowned, recalling the timeline. “Last sighting of Carlie was over a month ago. Could she have been held captive?”

“I’ll check her wrists and ankles for ligature marks once we uncover her. If they were running tests or prepping her for surgery, it’s possible. The actual procedure to remove organs wouldn’t take long—a few hours at most.”

Luna interjected, “And if she was a drug user, maybe they needed her clean first.”

“Detoxing could take time,” Santos agreed. “Days, maybe weeks, depending on her condition.”

He turned back to Santos. “Thank you, Doctor. Keep us updated. We need to know everything as soon as you have it.”

“I’m calling in some reinforcements, so I should be ready for you tomorrow morning. I’ll send a text.” Santos knelt and returned to her work.

Corbin watched her for a moment as she slowly brushed dirt from Carlie’s arm and paused to photograph the progress.

He exchanged a glance with Luna. “Wondering what you dragged yourself into?”

Luna walked beside him, eyes cast down, following the beam of his flashlight. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Me either.” Where had Carlie been for so many weeks, and what had she endured? They had to find whoever was responsible—and stop them before more lives were lost.

Agent Miller met them as they walked out of the woods. “We’re about to cut the surfers loose. That okay?”

“I have a few more questions,” he said. “You have what you need to find them?”

“Yes, sir,” Miller said.

“Good. Hang tight. This won’t take long.”

They approached the two men pacing near their overturned buckets. Someone had brought the golden retriever a bowl of water. It looked like instead of drinking it, the dog had swum in it.

“I know you’re anxious to get going, but I’ve got just a few more questions,” Corbin said. “How did you guys find this place?”

The men exchanged glances. Finally, Levi spoke up. “A friend in Miami owns a boat detailing shop. He told us about it. Said he sometimes comes here to find parts to upsell to his customers.”

Basically charge the rich clients the price of a new part but give them the used part. What else did this guy do while he was here? “What’s your friend’s name?”

“Caleb,” Levi replied. “Caleb Morales.”

“Thank you,” Luna said. “We might need to talk to him. Can you give us his information?”

Levi pulled his phone out and thumbed the screen. Corbin jotted down the phone number and made note of the social media profile and address for the detailing shop.

“Thanks for your help.” Corbin gestured to Miller. “Special Agent Miller will escort you off the property. We may have more questions later, so please stay available.”

The men nodded, visibly relieved to be leaving the scene. Corbin watched them go, noting the way Brock reached down to pet Maizie. The guys couldn’t be too bad. They loved that dog, and they’d risked burglary charges by reporting the body and sticking around. Most criminals would’ve bolted.