“Just don’t get us lost. I’m really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight. It’s really good to be home. St. Louis just isn’t the same.”
“No. No, I guess for you it wouldn’t be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t get you, Knight. I just don’t get you.”
He knew the instant she fell asleep. She stopped fidgeting as much, for one thing. For another, one soft hand slipped to the console between them. Knight wrapped his fingers around her wrist before he stopped to think about it and moved the offending appendage back to its own side of the truck. He should not be touching her in any way, shape, or form. He’d sat in the waiting room of that hospital and made that very resolution.
Hands off Dr. Miranda Talley. Period.
The woman was dangerous. Soft. Beautiful.
He reached into the backseat where he’d tossed his suit jacket earlier. Before the next turnoff, he spread it over the sleeping temptation next to him. It was too dark to see her face as he drove, but he didn’t need the light. He knew exactly what Miranda Talley looked like, face soft with sleep, now.
He wasn’t going to take the PAVAD position. He couldn’t. Not if he was going to be anywhere near this woman. As he drove, Knight argued with himself over that decision.
She was just a woman. He shouldn’t be this drawn to a woman so quickly. Unless it had something to do with the bullet he’d taken to the brain. Emotional regulation, possibly.
This was the first woman he’d been seriously attracted to since before he’d been injured. He was basically rewiring his brain on how to react in this situation. It made sense.
It wasn’t her specifically that was the problem. It was his head.
He’d just have to learn to deal with things in a new way. He wasn’t going to let physical attraction keep him from the job of a lifetime. A position heading a PAVAD division would make his career. He wasn’t going to let that go because of the woman next to him.
But he was going to have to come up with a strategy for dealing with her far more effectively than he had.
No more kissing her. That was for certain.
He used the long miles as she slept to think of strategies for doing just that. When he finally pulled the borrowed truck into the parking area of the inn, he thought he’d come up with a working plan. The Miranda plan.
There was a light on the front entryway. It was a beckoning place. A beautiful, idyllic place for a gaggle of young girls to grow up together. It was a beautiful town, in its own way. People knew each other, helped each other, he supposed.
Maybe mattered to one another.
One of the Talley women was sitting on the porch swing, even though it was far too cold for it. She was bundled up in a thick sweatshirt, with a knit cap on her head. It took him a moment to determine which Talley it was.
Miranda’s sister. The blonde who believed in auras, or something.
He pulled in and turned off the engine. The sister stood and approached, no doubt looking for Miranda. Well, that would work out just fine for him.
She could get her sister inside and taken care of.
Miranda Talley wasn’t going to become his responsibility in any way. That was step one in his plan. No responsibility for her, even as a teammate. He’d watch her back on the job, and that was absolutely it. Anything else to do with her wasn’t his problem.
The sister was waiting when he rounded the front of the truck. “She’s asleep. I trust you can deal with her from here?” His words were short, but he knew leaving Miranda like this was being a real asshole. The sister would just have to accept him as he was.
The sister gave a warm, sexy laugh. “I can handle her for you, Agent Knight. This time. There will come a time it’ll be all up to you, though.”
It must run in the family, the ability to confound him. He had no clue what the woman was talking about.
He took off toward the porch before he did something stupid and woke Miranda himself. No doubt Miranda would be warm, and soft, and her eyes would be welcoming and alluring. Sexy.
Her sister’s laughter rang in his ears. She called after him. “Your aura is glowing blue, Agent Knight. Something about my sister got you all worked up tonight?”
He didn’t answer.
These Talley women were real pains in the ass. He pitied the man that one finally ended up with.
36
Jac was tired, but she kept going. She probably wouldn’t sleep much anyway. Not with Max just next door and with worrying about Miranda. She suspected Miranda had done it on purpose, putting Jac on one side of the suite with a balcony and Max on the other. Nobody else on the team was sharing a balcony, even though the inn had four.
Miranda was going to get what she deserved one of these days. Jac was going to drive her out to the middle of Derrick Tyler’s ranch and spill the fact that Miranda wanted to get married, live in Masterson, and raise six kids on a ranch. No doubt all those super-hot cowboys would flock all over her.
Jac would just stand back and watch.
It was a mild revenge, of course. But Miranda’s machinations were starting to drive Jac crazy.
No doubt that was exactly what Miranda was planning on. It irritated, but she’d never really had a close friend to joke with her like that before. Jac cherished that, more than she suspected Miranda knew.
Finally, after an hour of work on the laptop, while snuggled into the fluffy pillows that covered the double bed, Jac gave up. It was a beautiful room. A comfortable, welcoming room.
Jac hopped out of the bed and threw on her shoes. She knew the security code for the private wing of the hotel. She grabbed her laptop. She could work in Miranda’s suite.
Put some space between her and Max.
Miranda was sound asleep in her room, sprawled over her full mattress and snoring lightly. Her sister, Marin, sat in the rocking chair next to the bed, knitting a light blue blanket. “Hello, Jac. I was waiting for you.”
“How is she doing?” She’d been worried. Jac was an obsessive worrier. Miranda teased her about that constantly, too. Miranda barely worried about anything. She claimed whatever came would come. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, I probably can. You want to sit here with her?”
“Yes.” She had met Marin several times before, and while Jac most certainly didn’t believe in psychics or predicting the future or anything like that, the Talleys did. They really believed Marin could see something of the future. Well, all of them but Miranda did.
Maybe. Sometimes Miranda was hard to figure out.
“Good.”
“That’s a gorgeous blanket. Who is it for?” Marin was…odd. She gardened—she ran the most successful nursery and garden center in the county. She was one of the shift managers for the diner. She was the assistant manager of the inn. And she sold knitted blankets made from local mohair yarn.
She laughed lightly. “I’m stocking up. For my nephews.”
Jac shot her a look. Miranda wasn’t involved with anyone. And Meyra, shy and awkward and practically terrified of men, wasn’t, either. “You’re expecting one soon?”
She sent a mysterious smile toward her sister. “I just believe in being prepared. For anything.”
“Blue?”
“Mmm. Lots of boys coming her way, probably sooner than she thinks. Tell me, Jac, how is the other Agent Jones tonight?”
Jac was not about to go there. “He’s fine. I’ll sit with her. If you want to go to bed.”
“Thanks. It’s appreciated.” Marin gathered her things, then stood. She paused next to the door and looked back at Jac. “You know, family isn’t just biology. It’s the people who you care about and care about you. You’re welcome here. With us. Any time you need to be here. There will always be a place for you—and your sister. Make sure she knows that, too. Remember that.”
Weird. Marin was extremely weird. Jac tried to figure out what the woman meant over the next hour or so.
Fifteen minutes after two, t
he computer came through.
Jac had the first list of possible addresses for the younger half of Luther and Pauline Beise’s children. First thing in the morning, they’d track them all down and hopefully get to the answers. Someone knew what had happened to Helen. They just had to get them to spill.
37
Rex Weatherby was one of the biggest assholes in existence. Jim wanted to tell him that, but he’d never been stupid. For one thing, Weatherby was the size of an elephant, with fists that no doubt packed far too much power.
“Suspension. You’re kidding me?”
“For three weeks.” Weatherby practically growled it. “If it happens again, you’re on suspension.”
“I just wasn’t thinking. And it’s not like the beer was open. It’s just sixty miles between my place and the store. I figured I’d save on gas.”
“I get it. But, when in that uniform, you represent us all.” Weatherby still stared at him. It was the way the man had of looking at people that freaked people out. Not Jim, of course. He wasn’t a wimp. It just pissed him off, mostly. He hated being stared at. By anyone.
It was like Weatherby could see every sin Jim had ever committed.
It wasn’t like he’d drunk more than one of the beers. Technically, driving while doing it had been illegal. But he knew how to drive a car—even with a few beers under his belt.
No doubt it was Gunderson who’d seen him and complained.
Jim had recognized the man’s truck when he’d passed him on the road yesterday. That was the only vehicle he could remember passing at all.
Gunderson.
Prick always had had it in for him. From the very beginning at the academy.
Someone should really make Gunderson pay.
Jim thought about that all day, during one of the most boring shifts on the road he could remember. Everyone was staying busy in the fields, harvesting what they could before the weather turned bad. Rumor had it they were going to have an early snow front come through in the next week.
He’d only had opportunity to get two speeders all day. He recognized one as a Tyler boy, and the other was from another county. That one he gave a nice little ticket to. Mostly for the punk’s attitude.
If people would just cooperate with the patrolmen who pulled them over, and weren’t total dicks, then most times they got off with warnings.
But, no. So many people were aggressive and rude these days.
He amused himself with imagining what he’d do to that fool, Gunderson. How it would piss the guy off and totally throw the high and mighty DCI investigator off his game.
Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Teach Gunderson that messing with Jim was one of the dumbest-ass things Gunderson could do.
But first, he owed it to Luther’s kids to let them know things were going to get hot around here. Jim grabbed his phone and dialed. He’d lost touch with most of his stepcousin’s kids, but that oldest girl.
She was a real piece of work, that one.
“Diane? Girl, this is your daddy’s cousin. Jim.”
Chapter 38
It was a nice office, with that clean, white painted cubicle business that was the standard just about everywhere Jac had ever seen. This familiar sight had her relaxing a little. Jac hated being the one walking into these types of situations. Interviews were most certainly not her strong suit.
She preferred tracking people through the internet. It was as simple as that. But she was PAVAD, and PAVAD agents had the skills necessary to investigate whatever and however was needed. Jac was proud of that.
She and Dr. Appell, the brunette trainee, followed Clint into the investment firm and spoke to the receptionist on the second floor.
Luke Meynard had done well for himself, according to what Jac had been able to find about him.
Unlike his older siblings, Luke had a small savings in the bank, was apparently happily married—she’d found a social media page for his wife—and secure in his career. He’d been with the same investment firm in Casper for more than four years. At twenty-six, he was doing very well.
The receptionist seemed to enjoy Clint smiling at her. She was very helpful—when he did the talking. Jac had learned to work with whatever hand they were given. Besides, she understood.
There was something about Clint that made a woman feel…safe.
She did.
It could be because of what he meant to Miranda, or that she’d met him before. She’d even held his daughter one day on her last visit, when Miranda had volunteered to babysit after Clint’s housekeeper abruptly quit. He leaned over her quietly while they waited for the receptionist to check if Luke Maynard was back from his lunch break. “You handling the questioning?”
Jac nodded. “Yes. I’m good.”
“If you’d prefer, I’ll handle it.”
“Why don’t we play it by ear?” She didn’t want to appear like she couldn’t do her job. She could do interviews—she just didn’t like doing them. “Did Miranda tell you how I feel about interviews?”
“No, honey. It’s written all over your face. You’re like an open book. Did you know that?”
Well, no. Heat hit her cheeks. “Is it?”
“Yep. Especially when you look at the other Agent Jones.”
There was a probing look in his eyes that Jac hadn’t missed.
Why was everyone so consumed with her and Max?
“I—”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t say a word. And I get it. I truly do.”
38
Clint hadn’t meant to embarrass her, but the poor woman had looked like she was getting ready to vomit. He’d spoken with Miranda about her team before—and she’d agreed with his observation that Jac Jones was probably the most timid member of the team.
He was interested to see what she could do in the interview. Miranda had made it clear that Jac was a good agent and more than capable of doing her job. Just something about the shorter redhead with big, vulnerable eyes reminded him of the one currently waiting for him at home.
That was what it was.
He was looking at Jac Jones and thinking of the woman he should have protected better than he had.
Clint was going to just step back and let Jac do her job. She probably didn’t want him hovering over her any more than his housekeeper did.
He’d have to remember that.
Before Clint could say anything else to either Jac Jones or the even quieter Dr. Appell, a tall man with bronze hair approached them with a puzzled expression in his eyes. The man favored Luther Beise more than he did his mother—but he was a far cry from either of his parents. He was dressed in a suit that rivaled for cut and price and severity any that Clint had seen Agent Knight wear. His tie was perfectly straight. “I’m Luke Meynard. Can I help you with something? Mandy says you’re with the FBI?”
Jac stepped in front of Clint. Clint looked down at her for a moment. The area surrounding Meynard’s cubicle was rather small and located at the back of the office. It was a tight squeeze.
Red hair was right in front of his face.
He’d always liked redheads. Probably always would. All the women he’d ever loved—including his mother, who’d died when he was around four or so—had had red hair. Even his daughter had an orange tint to the peach fuzz covering her head, inherited from the grandmother she’d never know.
Jac’s hair was darker than his housekeeper’s, but damned if the woman in front of him didn’t remind him of her in so many ways. It was in the way they had of looking at him that did it. Made him want to protect, even though Jac Jones could no doubt take care of herself very, very well.
“Mr. Meynard, you are Luther Beise, Jr.?” Jac began.
“Yes, what’s this about?”
“Were you aware that you are operating under a false identity?”
“Actually, I’m not. I learned recently that my parents never legally changed our names, so I began the process myself six months ago. My employer is aware of it. And my attorney is hand
ling everything.”
“Do you have verification of this?”
“Of course. My attorney would be happy to provide that information—if you explain to me what this is about?”
Clint probably wouldn’t have started with that tact, but he had to admit, the direct approach had its merits.
“Mr. Meynard,” Jac said, “We need to speak with you regarding the day your family left Masterson County, Wyoming. Is there any place we can speak privately?”
“Of course. Let me check with Edie about the conference room. I’m not sure what kind of help I can be. I was so sick that day, I barely remember any of it. Just my mother in a panic and us packing.”
“We just need to go over the details. We’re hoping you can clear up some inconsistencies for us.” Her tone had turned soothing, as if she too heard how confused the younger man was.
Five minutes later, they were in a generic, cream-painted conference room.
Clint took the seat on Jac’s left. Across from Luke Meynard. Dr. Appell took a seat four chairs down. He’d noticed the brunette liked her space. Extremely so.
“Tell us about your grandmother, Luke. Do you remember the last time you saw her?”
To Clint’s surprise, Luke Meynard hung his head slightly. Clint tensed.
There was no way the guy was getting ready to confess. It just didn’t work that way.
Not in Clint’s experience, anyway.
39
Jac forced herself not to tense. Luke’s cheeks had turned red, and there was a clear look of shame on his face. Luke knew something.
She’d bet money on it.
“Luke, could you start at the beginning of that day for us?”
“What is this about? What is my grandmother saying happened? It’s been fourteen years ago. I’m not sure why she’d send the FBI after us.”
Well.
That wasn’t what she’d expected. She shot a look at Clint, seeing the same surprise in his eyes. Clint nodded. Jac took in a breath. “Luke…nine weeks ago, the body of your grandmother was found buried in the barn of your family’s ranch. She’d been there for fourteen years. We believe she was killed the day your family left town. We need your help to figure out what actually happened that day.”
Buried Secrets: PAVAD: FBI Case File #0005 (PAVAD: FBI Case Files) Page 15