“Why?”
“Because of the note.”
I swallowed hard. That was right. The note. The one he’d given me that had blown away in the wind before I could read the words there.
He tossed his keys in the air and caught them. “I’ve got a meeting to attend, but have a great day, Joey.”
And before I could ask about that note, he was gone.
I met Jackson in the donut-shop parking lot, with a lingering hug that didn’t last long enough. I could stay wrapped in his arms all day and be completely satisfied.
Except that I needed to find my dad. And somehow make a living. And a million other things that were beside the point.
We pulled apart, he kissed my forehead, and then he took my hand to lead me inside. It wasn’t until we were seated—and, yes, I did get the maple and bacon glazed food of the gods—that we talked about anything consequential.
“Any updates?” I squeezed my Styrofoam coffee cup hard enough that I feared it could explode. I reminded myself to take it easy and took a sip instead, deciding not to go all Incredible Hulk on him.
“The woman’s name was Natasha Burns,” Jackson said, resting his elbows on the table and lowering his voice. “She had known affiliations with the Barracudas.”
I nibbled on my bottom lip. It wasn’t a surprise. It really wasn’t. But I needed to figure out how everything connected. Had the Barracudas worked with Leonard and his people to lure me out to that address? It seemed unlikely. Leonard and his guys weren’t the terrorist types. They were more the Comic-Con geeks who got a little carried away.
Maybe the Barracudas had left me that message, hoping to lure me out to the house. But if that was the case, why hadn’t they done anything while I’d been there? That didn’t fit either.
Which left me back to having no answers and no clues.
I suppressed a sigh.
“Anything else you’re allowed to share?” I picked a piece of bacon from the top of my donut.
Jackson released a breath, and I could see tumultuous thoughts waging a war in his head. “Not really.”
I leaned closer, needing more than not really. “This Natasha lady—she targeted you, Jackson.”
He nodded slowly, not even touching his caramel praline donut. “I know.”
“Why would she do that? Why you and not me?”
“I have no idea at this point.” He grimaced, obviously not liking that answer.
I needed to redirect my questioning if I was going to get any answers. Jackson had taught me that. The student becomes the master. Ha!
“How about that house where my picture was found?” I asked. “Any updates on it?”
“We discovered that the place belongs to a man named Marvin Peterson. He lives in Pennsylvania and apparently hasn’t been down in years.”
Marvin Peterson? The name rang no bells. “Why would my dad have been staying there? Any known connections?”
“None that we’ve found.”
I didn’t expect Jackson to have that answer, but I was trying to sort this all out.
Another idea rammed into my mind with enough force to jolt me. “Does Corbina Properties manage the building?”
He frowned, and I knew my answer. “They do.”
“It’s another connection. We can’t take that for granted.”
“They manage about half of the homes in the area though. I’d like to believe that’s the answer we’re looking for, but it’s not definitive yet.”
My shoulders sagged. “I feel like the answers are dangling in front of me, but I just can’t grab them.”
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “I know.”
I let out a breath that felt as if it weighed hundreds of pounds. “I did do one thing last night. I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it earlier, because it seems so obvious.”
“What’s that?”
“I decided to post a plea on social media. I put my dad’s picture out there and asked for information on anyone who might have seen him.”
Jackson’s face morphed from surprised to concerned to . . . what was that expression? Anxious? “I’m not sure that was a good idea, Joey.”
“Why not? I can’t believe I didn’t do it sooner.” I thought it was such a great idea that I was kicking myself for not doing it earlier.
“What if your dad doesn’t want to be found?”
I shook my head, his words making no sense. “I don’t understand.”
Jackson pulled away, suddenly not as relaxed anymore. I could see the muscles flexing—tensing—on his tanned arms. His neck. That telltale jaw.
“Joey, putting your dad’s picture out there could put him in danger. I strongly recommend you take it down.”
I studied his face, surprised by his reaction. There was something more to this, something I hadn’t seen before, though maybe I’d expected it in some subconscious way.
Did I dare voice it aloud? I had to because the thought was clawing its way to the surface.
“You know more.” The realization left a nauseous feeling in my stomach.
He didn’t deny it, but his lips pressed together. I could tell he was formulating what to say.
“It’s a complex situation, Joey.”
Another surge of outrage rushed through me. He was placating me. Preparing a politically correct way to answer—or should I say, of avoiding answering. Had he kept me in the dark this whole time? Had he listened to me worry, all the while having the answers?
“What does that mean, Jackson? How much, exactly, do you know here?”
“Joey—”
I could already tell by his tone that he was still in placating mode. “Don’t Joey me or handle me with kid gloves.”
I stared at him, the man who’d quickly gained a place in my heart—a heart that felt like it was breaking a little bit now. “You know how hard this has been on me.”
My stomach churned as I said the words. I didn’t want to believe them, but I needed to face the truth.
From the very first time I’d met Jackson, I’d wondered if he knew something. I’d seen a file with my dad’s name on it on his desk. I’d learned that a waitress saw Jackson meeting with my dad only days before Dad disappeared.
But because I liked Jackson, I wanted to believe the best. I wanted to think he was on my side. Helping me. Just as determined to find closure.
I’d been foolish.
Suddenly my trust in him felt shattered . . . irreparably.
Chapter Six
Jackson glanced around the donut shop and lowered his voice. “This isn’t the place to have this conversation, Joey.”
I crossed my arms, not really caring about making a scene. If I’d been thinking a little harder, I could acknowledge that what we were talking about wasn’t public information. But my blood was on fire and blazing so hot that nothing else mattered.
“Then we should move somewhere that is the place for this conversation,” I finally said. “Because I’m not letting this drop.”
Jackson stood and tossed his coffee in the trash can behind me. I followed his lead. My appetite was gone, and I felt the start of an emotional earthquake inside me.
He took my arm and led me outside to his car. With every step, my hurt grew. My questions swelled. The ground felt like it was slipping from beneath my feet.
How could Jackson have done this to me? So many people I cared about had betrayed me. My mom had abandoned me when I was a toddler, choosing modeling over her family. Eric, my ex-husband, had been abusive and left me to suffer. Friends whom I’d thought were loyal had dumped me after my divorce.
And now Jackson had conveniently left out important details about what he knew concerning my father’s disappearance. He took me for an idiot, didn’t he? Had he felt superior when I’d wrestled with questions that he’d had the answers to? Had he mentally gloated because I was such a fool?
Once the doors were closed to his car, I had no reason to hold back anymore.
“Wha
t aren’t you telling me, Jackson?” I angled my body toward him.
He turned toward me, but I couldn’t get a read on his eyes. Was there any apology there? Any compassion?
I didn’t know. My emotions clouded my judgment.
“Joey, you know that as a part of my job there are things I can’t say.” Jackson’s voice was soft, pleading for understanding.
“This is about my father!” My hand hit the dashboard.
He rubbed his neck and released a slow breath. “I know that. Don’t you think I know how much this means to you? Don’t you know that it’s been killing me inside not to be able to explain things?”
I blanched at his admission—it was more than I’d anticipated. “Explain? You know enough that it warrants explaining?”
Betrayal ripped through me again. I never expected this from Jackson.
Not Jackson, the man I had up on a pedestal. The man who could do no wrong. The man who’d given me hope when everything felt lost.
He touched my arm, but I flinched, and he pulled back. “There’s a lot at stake, Joey. It’s bigger than you and me. It’s bigger than one person.”
What did that even mean? “Could you expound on that some?”
He rubbed his neck again. “I’m on an interagency task force.”
“Okay . . .” I was going to need more than that.
“It’s a big deal.”
“What kind of big deal? An Armageddon kind of big deal? Deep Impact? The Day after Tomorrow?”
He glanced at his lap. “It’s the kind of task force that, if we were told a certain area of town would be destroyed, we wouldn’t be allowed to tell spouses or family that it was happening. It’s that highly classified. Does that make sense?” His gaze was intense on mine.
Like Deep Impact. A meteor was headed toward the earth. Yeah, I was talking about the movie. Of course.
Maybe it did make sense. Maybe I knew that in the back of my mind. But all I could think about was my dad and the months of agony I’d experienced while not knowing where to find him. Not knowing if he was dead. If I’d ever speak to him again.
“Talk to me, Joey.”
I glanced at Jackson. Only then did I feel the tears in my eyes. Tears I hadn’t expected or wanted. But they were there, and they were hot, and they were threatening to overflow.
“I trusted you,” I finally said, wiping away the moisture from beneath my eyes. My voice cracked and wavered and exposed the deep level of hurt I’d rather hide. Because only someone you deeply cared about could hurt you like this.
“Joey . . .” Jackson started to reach for me again but dropped his hand, as if he knew his touch wouldn’t be welcomed.
I glanced out the window, not wanting Jackson to see any more of how much he’d affected me. I desperately wished I hadn’t been naïve enough to trust him.
“You still can’t tell me anything, can you?” I finally asked.
He said nothing, which was my answer.
I nodded slowly as another wave of betrayal washed over me.
Sitting here in his car was going to do me no good. I sucked in a long, deep breath and raised my chin, trying to summon my last ounce of dignity.
“I should be going,” I announced. My soul felt like it had been ripped in two. Or like my best friend had a life-saving cure and refused to both give it to me or let me know it existed.
“Joey, please don’t walk away with things like this between us.” Jackson didn’t bother to hide the plea in his voice.
But my mind was made up.
“I need time to process.” And to eat chocolate. And contemplate a dart board with Jackson’s face on it. Wait . . . did that sound too violent?
I opened my door and climbed out.
I was about to slam it but paused for long enough to glance at Jackson.
I saw the battle-weary look on his face. Saw a range of emotions that I’d never seen in him before. It was as if a dark cloud had formed overhead, causing his skin to gray and tense and dry out in an instant.
I felt I should say something, but I didn’t know what. Have a good day. Thanks for nothing. How could you have done this?
Instead I shook my head, not bothering to hide my utter disappointment, and closed the door. Maybe I slammed it. Maybe it was somewhere in between. I didn’t know. Didn’t care.
As I started toward my car, Jackson called my name.
I turned and saw that he’d climbed from his police sedan and stood with his arms pressed on the roof.
“Joey, please don’t do this.” His eyes implored me. “You know I have your best interests in mind.”
I didn’t want to do this. I wanted happy ever after. I wanted this rom-com of my life to end with a kiss. I didn’t want a Bridget Jones type of sequel where everything went horribly wrong after she got her dream guy.
But his betrayal couldn’t be ignored. Just thinking about it caused a deep ache in my chest. Each pang seemed to echo, Why did you ever trust him? You’re just like every sappy heroine in those made-for-TV romances you hate.
“I don’t know what to believe from you anymore, Jackson. You promised to help me when all the while you could have been leading me astray. Is that what you were doing?”
“You know me better than that, Joey. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Then just how were you planning on helping me?”
He rubbed his neck again. “There are things I couldn’t tell you. But if you discovered them on your own, then I wasn’t going to stop you either.”
I shook my head. “That’s not good enough.”
“Joey, please.”
“I need some time,” I muttered.
And before he could try to convince of me of anything else, I climbed in my car and drove away, leaving part of my heart behind.
“I’m sorry, Joey.” Zane slipped an arm around me and offered a side hug.
I stiffly fell into his embrace as we sat on the couch at my condo.
I didn’t want to run crying into Zane’s arms. But he’d noticed I was upset from the moment I’d walked into my condo with blotchy skin, a red nose, and watery eyes. No, I wasn’t a pretty crier.
My first instinct after I’d left Jackson had been to drive endlessly until I found answers. But then I realized I had no idea where to go. Plus, I was pretty sure that Jackson had one of his guys following me. So I’d come home to regroup. I’d kind of wanted to be alone, but Zane was not only present, he was attentive and overly available.
So here we were.
“How could he not tell me?” I whispered into Zane’s chest. “This is my dad we’re talking about.”
“It must be something pretty serious if he kept it to himself. Or Jackson’s just a jerk.”
Could the man I thought had hung the moon actually be a jerk? I couldn’t believe that. I didn’t want to believe it. But maybe I should because the sooner I realized it, the better off I would be.
If only I could get a grip on my emotions right now. But I couldn’t. I had to let them run their course. I didn’t know what else to do.
I sat up and wiped my eyes and nose with a brittle tissue from a box on the end table. “He mentioned something about an interagency task force and some example about a disaster threat and not being able to tell loved ones. What does that mean?”
Zane sighed and began pulling his hair back into a ponytail or bun. “Well, we know this probably has to do with the Barracudas, right?”
“Right.” That was pretty much a given at this point.
“They’d definitely need an interagency task force when dealing with them. I’m sure you realize the enormity of what they’re capable of.”
Unfortunately, I did. “I know they have their hand in all kinds of illegal activities from drugs to human trafficking to weapons and everything else in between.”
“We know that your dad probably discovered something.”
I nodded again. That was what I had gathered from some earlier investigating I’d done. If I understood correctly, an
international student worker had gone to my dad for help. She’d overheard a few men, at the warehouse where she’d worked, talking about some deals taking place after hours. In the process of helping her, my dad had not only discovered the crime ring was operating in this area but he’d also spotted my mom.
Not long after that he’d disappeared.
“He must have learned something so big that it put him in danger,” Zane continued, finally securing his hair behind his head before leaning back.
He was better at this logic thing than I’d thought he’d be.
“So he either went into hiding, or a member of the Barracudas grabbed him and . . .” I couldn’t finish the thought. They’d either held him captive or killed him.
I knew the likelihood was that they’d kill him.
“Based on what you told me yesterday, he went to that house on Hatteras Island,” Zane said.
“We still don’t know if it was by choice or if he was forced,” I finished.
“And then he disappeared again from there.”
I leaned back, feeling as if I was chasing a ghost or Bigfoot—something I’d never discover the answers about, no matter how much they fascinated me. It seemed like the answers didn’t even exist.
“There’s one other thing that keeps bothering me,” I said. “When I met with my mom, she didn’t give any indication that she knew where my father was. If the Barracudas had him, she would know about it, right?”
Zane remained silent in thought for a minute. “Based on what you told me, I would think so.”
“So maybe my dad is in hiding. But I have no idea where. How do you find someone who doesn’t want to be found?”
“I’m not sure, Joey. Look at Osama bin Laden. He took years to find.”
Great, he was comparing my dad to a terrorist.
I let out a sigh, my head pounding now on top of my scattered emotions. “I think I need to take my dad’s picture offline,” I muttered. “Jackson didn’t say why, but I had the impression that I could be putting something in jeopardy. Jackson’s investigation? That wouldn’t bother me all that much at this very moment. But if my dad’s in hiding, the last thing I should do is bring more attention to him.”
Flaw-Abiding Citizen (The Worst Detective Ever Book 6) Page 4