Page 31 of Girl Lost (The King Legacy #1)

Luna’s face swam before him. Last night, she’d been close enough to kiss. Her breath, warm and inviting. Her eyes, soft in a way he hadn’t seen since...

Man, he’d wanted to kiss her. To erase the years between them with one touch.

But the graveyard had kept flashing behind his eyes—bodies and blood mixing with the haze of painkillers.

His head was too fuzzy, his thoughts too fractured to give her the moment she deserved.

After everything they’d been through, after all the time and pain, their next first kiss couldn’t be some impulsive, hazy blur. She deserved more.

He didn’t blame her for bolting.

Cold water shocked his system as he splashed his face.

This time had been different, though. She hadn’t bolted without a word.

Her walls weren’t as high. He could see over them, at least. See through to the pain she hid.

Pain he’d caused, yes, but some thing more.

Something deeper. Older. A wound that had festered, hardened. Scars that crisscrossed her soul.

He wanted to shield her, to help her heal. But how could he when every glance, every unspoken word between them carried traces of broken promises and discarded dreams. He ached to show her how deeply he regretted walking away.

But would she ever trust him again?

Rushing through his morning routine, he skipped a proper shave and settled for a quick pass with his electric razor.

Time was tight. Picking up Luna from Tori’s place and making it to the medical examiner’s office before six was nonnegotiable.

Being late wasn’t an option—not when it might give her another reason to doubt him.

The sun hadn’t yet risen when Luna slid into the passenger seat. She held two travel mugs, the scent of fresh coffee filling the car.

“Figured you could use this.” She passed him one of the mugs.

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” Maybe things weren’t so bad. If she was bringing him coffee, she couldn’t be completely put off by last night’s almost-kiss.

Part of him regretted stopping it. If he’d been his old impulsive self, he would’ve let things go as far as she’d allow. But he wasn’t that guy anymore. He had self-control now. Didn’t he?

They rode in silence, the familiar streets of Millie Beach passing in a blur. Before long, they pulled into the parking lot of the medical examiner’s office.

He drained the last of his coffee and set the mug in the cupholder. “Ready?”

Luna nodded, her expression unreadable.

The automatic doors hissed open, ushering them into the sterile environment of the ME’s office. How many times had he walked through these doors to see the aftermath of evil?

A young female assistant, all wide eyes and solemnity, led them down the hallway. Her shoes squeaked against the polished linoleum floor. They passed several closed doors before reaching the office.

“Dr. Santos will be with you shortly.” The assistant gestured them inside. She practically bolted as soon as they crossed the threshold.

Mindful of his aching body, Corbin lowered himself into one of the chairs facing Dr. Santos’s desk, and Luna settled beside him.

The room was small but tidy. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with medical texts and journals.

The opposite wall held framed diplomas and certifications, displaying the enormous amount of dedication Dr. Santos had in order to earn her expertise.

A window behind her desk offered a view of a small courtyard.

The green splash of life counteracted the deathly business conducted within these walls.

Before either could speak, the office door swung open. Dr. Amelia Santos strode in. Her white lab coat billowed behind her. She had her dark hair pulled back in its usual neat bun, and her eyes carried no hint of the all-nighter she’d pulled.

“Good morning,” Santos said, moving behind her desk. She dropped a stack of folders onto the polished surface with a soft thud and sat in her chair. “The commissioner’s arriving any minute, but I’ve confirmed his daughter’s identity.” Her businesslike tone was sharp but not unkind.

Corbin leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the arms of the chair. “What have you got for us, Doc?”

Santos opened the top folder, her fingers tracing the lines of text as she gathered her thoughts. The ticking of the wall clock seemed unnaturally loud in the silence, each second moving closer to answers.

“I thought you’d want an update before I show you the bodies.

” Santos pinned him with serious eyes. “I’ve finished a preliminary on Carlie Tinch.

My suspicions were correct.” She paused, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm on the folder.

“Her vital organs had been removed. She was otherwise unharmed, except...”

Except what? What other indignity had this poor girl suffered?

Santos turned the monitor so they could see. The glossy screen caught the light, and for a moment, Corbin saw his own reflection. Pale, drawn, eyes haunted. He steeled himself and looked at the photo.

Carlie’s wrist filled the photo, pale skin marred by ugly, purplish bruises. They formed a cruel bracelet that told a story of struggle and fear.

“Ligature marks?” His words came out rough.

Beside him, Luna’s shifting posture was the only indication she’d seen the photo too. How much horror had Luna witnessed in her line of work? How much could any of them take before it broke them?

Dr. Santos pulled up a series of photos, each showing a young woman with the same Y-incision. Corbin’s stomach churned as he realized how young they all looked.

“Same preliminary findings for these victims,” Santos said. “All healthy girls, prime of their lives. All organs removed, ligature marks on the wrists.”

“Could she have died another way?” Corbin’s detective’s mind searched for alternatives. “Maybe a medical examiner just ... disposed of the body improperly?”

Even as the words left his mouth, Corbin knew it was a long shot. But he had to ask. Had to search for any explanation that might lessen the horror of what lay before them.

Dr. Santos shook her head. “No, Agent King. What was done to Carlie is fundamentally different from a standard autopsy. We remove organs for examination, yes, but we return them to the body. Here, the organs were removed.”

“Which organs are we talking about here?” Corbin dreaded the answer.

“Hearts, lungs, kidneys, liver.” Santos ticked them off on her fingers. “The works.”

Corbin said, “So you think we’re looking at organ harvesting?”

“That’s not my department, Agent. I just report what I find. The rest is up to you.” Santos leaned back in her chair. “But I will point out that these organs could fetch a price on the black market. Definitely the type harvested for organ trafficking.”

The words hung in the air.

Harvested. Like crops. Like Carlie was nothing more than a resource to be used and discarded. The sheer inhumanity of it made his blood boil.

The faces of the victims stared up at him, young lives snuffed out too soon. How many more were out there? How many more families were living in agonizing uncertainty? “Have you identified the other victims?”

“Three out of the five so far.” Santos pulled out another file. “Besides Carlie, Sadie Rollins from Panama City Beach and Jennifer Woods from New Port Richey. So far, no two victims are from the same city. All reported missing but assumed runaways.”

Luna glanced at Corbin. “These girls go missing in one town and turn up right here in Millie Beach.”

This was organized, methodical. How far did it stretch? “Have you reached out to bordering states to see if the other two victims are in their missing persons records?” If the crimes crossed state lines, they could ask the FBI for additional resources.

Santos nodded. “I’ve got calls in and sent an email with their photos. I also detailed my findings and asked other medical examiners to reach out if they have anyone matching our victimology. So far, nothing’s turned up.”

“If I may,” Luna said. “We know about Carlie, but the girls who have been identified, can you compare how long they were missing before they died?”

Smart question. Why hadn’t he thought of that? Corbin watched Santos sift through the files, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“I’m afraid I can’t give you a definitive answer at this stage.

We’ve only just received the bodies, and I haven’t had the opportunity to perform the autopsies on Miss Rollins or Miss Woods yet.

” Santos pulled a small calendar out of her desk drawer and flipped through the pages.

“What I can tell you is based on when the police reports were filed, it looks like Rollins and Woods were missing between six and eight weeks before they were found, which should help in determining approximate time of death.”

Six to eight weeks. Same as Carlie. What had happened during that time? What had these girls endured before their lives were cruelly ended? And how many more were out there right now, waiting to be found?

Corbin’s gaze drifted back to the photos on the screen. Young faces, full of promise, now forever silenced. Was this the work of a calculating criminal enterprise or something even darker? A serial killer with a grotesque signature?

The possibilities churned in his gut. Organ harvesting meant multiple players, a network. A serial killer ... that was a different kind of monster altogether.

And what about Trinity? Was she mixed up in all this somehow? “We have something we’d like to run by you.”

Santos laced her fingers and waited.

“You’re familiar with the Warrior program at the Kingdom MMA Gym?”

“Stryker’s program, yes.” A bit of red rose up her neck to her cheeks. “He and I had coffee together a few times.”