The Forgotten by Heather Graham
Murdered by a dead man?
A woman named Maria Gomez is murdered in Miami, apparently by her husband—who’d been presumed dead, slain by a crime boss. FBI agent Brett Cody can’t believe it; dead or alive, the man had loved his wife. He also can’t help feeling guilty, since he was responsible for protecting Miguel and Maria Gomez.
A few miles away, Lara Mayhew has just begun working at a dolphin research facility. She loves her new job—until a dolphin brings her something unexpected from the deep. A human hand. More body parts show up, and when Brett looks into the situation, he discovers that the dismembered corpse is Miguel’s.
Soon, rumors of crazed zombies abound in the Miami media, and the Krewe of Hunters, an elite FBI unit of paranormal investigators, is called in. Brett and Lara find themselves working with the Krewe—and working closely together. An elderly crime boss who’s losing his memory seems to be key to solving this case, but…there’s no motive. Unless Brett and Lara can uncover one in the Miami underworld. And that means they have to protect themselves. And each other.
Praise for the novels of
New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
“[Waking the Dead is] not to be missed.”
—BookTalk
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life, using exceptionally vivid details to add depth to all the people and places.”
—RT Book Reviews on Waking the Dead, *Top Pick*
“Murder, intrigue…a fast-paced read. You may never know in advance what harrowing situations Graham will place her characters in, but…rest assured that the end result will be satisfying.”
—Suspense Magazine on Let the Dead Sleep
“Graham deftly weaves elements of mystery, the paranormal and romance into a tight plot that will keep the reader guessing at the true nature of the killer’s evil.”
—Publishers Weekly on The Unseen
“I’ve long admired Heather Graham’s storytelling ability and this book hit the mark. I couldn’t put The Unholy down.”
—Fresh Fiction
“Suspenseful and dark.… The transitions between past and present flow seamlessly, and the main characters are interesting and their connection to one another is believable.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Unseen
“Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground
Also by HEATHER GRAHAM
THE SILENCED
THE DEAD PLAY ON
THE BETRAYED
THE HEXED
THE CURSED
WAKING THE DEAD
THE NIGHT IS FOREVER
THE NIGHT IS ALIVE
THE NIGHT IS WATCHING
LET THE DEAD SLEEP
THE UNINVITED
THE UNSPOKEN
THE UNHOLY
THE UNSEEN
AN ANGEL FOR CHRISTMAS
THE EVIL INSIDE
SACRED EVIL
HEART OF EVIL
PHANTOM EVIL
NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRES
THE KEEPERS
GHOST MOON
GHOST NIGHT
GHOST SHADOW
THE KILLING EDGE
NIGHT OF THE WOLVES
HOME IN TIME FOR CHRISTMAS
UNHALLOWED GROUND
DUST TO DUST
NIGHTWALKER
DEADLY GIFT
DEADLY HARVEST
DEADLY NIGHT
THE DEATH DEALER
THE LAST NOEL
THE SÉANCE
BLOOD RED
THE DEAD ROOM
KISS OF DARKNESS
THE VISION
THE ISLAND
GHOST WALK
KILLING KELLY
THE PRESENCE
DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR
PICTURE ME DEAD
HAUNTED
HURRICANE BAY
A SEASON OF MIRACLES
NIGHT OF THE BLACKBIRD
NEVER SLEEP WITH STRANGERS
EYES OF FIRE
SLOW BURN
NIGHT HEAT
Look for Heather Graham’s next novel
THE HIDDEN
available soon from MIRA Books
Dedicated with sincere appreciation to Dolphin Research Center, Grassy Key, Marathon, Florida, and to all the people who work with love and care to make it such an exceptional facility, especially Rita Irwin, Mandy Rodriguez, Linda Erb,
Emily Guarino and Loriel Keaton.
To Jax, attacked by a shark and alive because of DRC. I don’t pretend to know about all sea mammal centers; I do know that this one is wonderful.
And to my very dear friend Mary Stella, DRC, who introduced me to Jax and Tanner and all!
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Excerpt from The Hidden by Heather Graham
Prologue
“Maria.”
Maria Gomez started at the sound of her name.
She’d thought she was alone.
She had been sitting in the darkness, just staring out at the night, when she’d heard her name spoken. She didn’t even turn at first. She was certain she had imagined it. Her name, spoken so softly, with such affection—by him.
Because all she did was think about Miguel.
She was so numb. She knew that her children worried about her, that her friends and family worried about her, and yet she could do nothing but stare out at the night. Her balcony was beautiful; she looked out over the walled and tree-laden backyard of the beautiful home she and Miguel had built together in Coconut Grove.
In doing so, she looked out over her life. The children had climbed the great banyan tree that grew so close to the house, just beyond the balcony. She and Miguel had hosted pool parties for Little League teams, for the Brownies and Girl Scouts. They’d hosted Michelle’s engagement party and a shower for Magdalena when little Sophia had been due.
But the past was gone. The night was quiet. Only the mental echo of haunted laughter remained of the happiness that had once lived here. She knew that it was time for her to leave, too. Join the children up north, where none of them would be happy—but where they would be safe.
Miguel was gone. He had been the great force in the family. She was empty without him, empty of all the things that made a family strong. She hadn’t even been eighteen when she had married him; they’d had nearly twenty-five years together. She had always trusted him.
He’d always been honest with her.
Some said that he had been a very bad man; Maria knew that wasn’t true. He had gotten swept up into bad things with bad men, but he had never hurt anyone himself; he had simply been born at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had felt like a knife in her heart when she’d read the reports of his death in the paper; he had died as such a man might, the press—apparently desperate to be as dramatic as possible—had reported. His death had been accompanied—literally—by the same searing flame of violence with which he had lived. Doused with accelerants an
Those reporters! Even they claimed it was a heinous end, despite whatever deeds he had allegedly committed. He’d been involved in the drug trade, and everyone knew the drug trade was filled with cold-blooded killers.
But she knew that Miguel had never done anything but own land.
Most certainly his killers had known that he had gone to the American government.
That was the reason he’d been killed, of course. And the FBI man who had come to the funeral, the one Miguel had gone to, Agent Brett Cody, had been visibly distressed by that knowledge. Agent Cody had been pulled off the case shortly after he and Miguel had spoken, because other agents who specialized in the drug trade had been assigned to work with, to look after, her husband. Maria had told Agent Cody that she did not blame him for Miguel’s death; after all, he hadn’t gone to Miguel—Miguel had gone to him.
Miguel had been foolish; the government hadn’t worked very hard for him. Protection? He hadn’t been protected for a second. The men watching over him hadn’t even found him until the fire had ravaged his body and rendered it unrecognizable.
She didn’t entirely blame the agents, though. Those in the drug trade knew what they were up against if they tried to leave. Those who weren’t in the trade didn’t know that protection might not be possible—even agents who were assigned to the trade didn’t always know that. No one could be watched every minute. And there was still someone out there—watching her.
“Maria.”
She heard her name again. It was Miguel’s voice. She missed him so badly that she could still hear him. It was almost as if she could breathe in his scent.
“Maria.”
His voice seemed to be coming from behind her.
She turned. Her heart slammed to a stop in her chest, and she jumped to her feet, astonished.
There was Miguel. He was standing just inside the double doors that led from the patio back into their bedroom. He looked to be real, flesh and blood. He was there...
Just as quickly as it had ceased to beat, her heart took flight. They’d been wrong. The bone fragments found in the fire had not belonged to Miguel.
Because Miguel was standing right in front of her.
She raced to him, throwing her arms around him. He barely moved in response. She drew back, staring at him. It was Miguel. But...
Something was wrong with him. Something was really wrong.
“Miguel, what—what have they done to you?” she asked.
His eyes were blank as he stared back at her. Then, to her astonishment, he picked her up.
And he walked back out to the balcony without saying a word.
He spoke like Miguel, he smelled like Miguel, he looked like Miguel, but...
She was confused, but her confusion cleared in a split second when she realized his intent, and started to scream.
1
A bottlenose dolphin leaped majestically out of the water, crystal droplets raining down around it in the morning sun. It splashed as it landed, then appeared almost to fly as it raced around the lagoon, thrusting itself out of the water with the power of its fins and flukes, all the while staring straight at Lara Mayhew. The dolphin emitted a chattering sound, something delightfully akin to laughter.
Lara smiled at the sight and sound of the dolphin, a beautiful female estimated to be about ten years old and named Cocoa. Rick Laramie, the head dolphin trainer, had told Lara on an earlier visit that Cocoa was performing for her and “speaking” to her simply because she had chosen to, that she’d decided she liked Lara. That was fine with Lara. She liked Cocoa, too, and was fascinated by her. Cocoa was one of the facility’s rescue dolphins. She’d been attacked by a shark and been near death when she was brought to Sea Life. Now it seemed she knew she owed her life to the facility. She was as friendly as a family pet. Today Rick was taking her for her first dolphin swim and training experience, and she was glad it was going to be with Cocoa.
Rick hadn’t shown up yet, but Lara knew she was early. She was delighted just to be there, enjoying the sunlight beneath a beautiful blue summer sky, feeling the warmth of the day heat her skin. No one at the facility was up yet, in fact. It was just after six thirty. In another half hour the cooks and cashiers who ran the small café would arrive, and a few minutes after that the rest of the staff would come wandering in. The facility opened to the public for seven hours each day, but the crux of the work here was research and education, not entertainment. They didn’t study dolphin disease and physiology, or perform necropsies or anything like that; they focused on training, learning more about dolphin habits and intelligence with each passing season.
Which, of course, was expensive. And why Grady Miller, one of the three founders of the Sea Life Center, had decided that, like other sea mammal research facilities, they would educate the public on dolphins, arranging for playtimes, dolphin swims and other trainer-conducted interactions. While Rick was the head trainer here, Grady was managing director. The facility had been a nonprofit research institute for years, and Grady was loved and respected by the dolphins as well as all of his coworkers. She’d seen him in the water with the dolphins; they had all rushed to him like giant wet puppies, eager to greet him, eager to have him stroke them along their backs and fins, eager for his kind words. He’d purchased the property and the docks from the previous owners—filmmakers who’d trained dolphins to perform for the camera—and continued working with the dolphins they’d left behind, simply loving and being fascinated by the creatures. That had been almost thirty years ago. He’d started with two partners. Willem Rodriguez had provided financing, and Peg Walton worked with him day-to-day. Peg had passed away a few years ago, and now Grady essentially ran it on his own. The facility was now far larger than when it had been founded, and it was thriving, with its research featured in the most influential scientific publications.
They were supported by people from around the world, rich and poor alike. Their contributors included people who “adopted” a dolphin for a small donation and “sustainers” who, in return for their substantial support, were allowed to see some of the research as it was being conducted and were invited to attend a picnic-style fete each year, as well as being welcomed to various small meetings where the center’s newest findings were presented. There was, in fact, a dinner planned for that evening. It would be Lara’s first chance to attend such a special occasion, because there weren’t many of them, and as a new employee she was lucky to find one happening so soon after she was hired. At Sea Life, every contributor was appreciated, and with nonprofit enterprises continually reliant on the philanthropy of others, it was important to always let all their contributors know how much they were valued. And tonight a few of their major supporters would be on hand. Lara didn’t know much about Grant Blackwood of Eden Industries or Ely Taggerly of Taggerly Pharmaceuticals. She did know that Mason Martinez, CEO of Good Health Miami, had a nationwide reputation for his healthful lifestyle clinics and the preventive medicine practiced there. She was also familiar with Sonia Larson of Sonia Fashions.
In fact, she owned a number of Sonia’s pieces, trendy business fashions that didn’t cost an arm and a leg. She was anxious to meet the woman, along with all the others, of course.
Lara’s job tonight was to seat everyone and see that they were happy with the food and everyone had a good time while the trainers and scientists talked about their research and results. It hardly seemed like work.
And then there was the day-to-day here at Sea Life. Always time to walk around the lagoons and talk to the dolphins.
Lara felt she’d truly found a haven. She loved all the dolphins—but especially Cocoa.
Cocoa was in the front left lagoon that day, her usual location, though occasionally she was shifted to a
Each lagoon had a floating dock for trainers, medical personal and the visitors who were part of a swim program, as well as a floating platform farther out in the water.
Lara sat down on the dock. “Good morning, Cocoa!” she called.
The dolphin made that clicking sound again, disappeared for a minute, then came up near Lara in a magnificent leap and welcomed her with a showering spray of seawater.
Lara laughed. “Yes, yes, you’re lovely and talented, and that actually felt very good. Love the sun, but it is warm. That water felt great. This is such a beautiful day,” she said.
And it really was. Stunningly beautiful. The sun was shining, making the water sparkle. A breeze was drifting in off the bay, rustling the palms and sea grape trees that grew along the stone paths and by the docks. By afternoon it would be hot, and they might be caught by one or more of the torrential storms that could hit the area in the summer and into the fall. But right now, it was simply beautiful. The sky was a true bright blue; the water was like a sea of diamonds.
The move to Miami had been a good idea.
She was actually living in Coconut Grove, an area of the city that was historically artsy, with a “downtown” that was hopping until what seemed like all hours of the morning. It was a ten-minute hop over to the research facility, which was situated on a small private road off one of the bridges that connected the city with Miami Beach, which meant it was near other attractions, such as downtown Miami, the Art and Design District, South Beach, the Port of Miami, Jungle Island and the Children’s Museum. While the area surrounding Sea Life was busy and modern, the facility itself had an old-time charm. The foliage was a little wild and ragged, iguanas roamed freely, and birds were everywhere. The best of both worlds.