by Lisa Childs
Before Alex came home—because if Jared saw him he would have more questions.
More questions she couldn’t answer...
Chapter Two
Jared’s heart pounded hard and fast beneath the warmth of her hand on his chest. He’d worried that she might slam the door in his face. After the mess he had made of everything, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. But she’d let him in. Although after hearing her soft cry, he hadn’t given her much choice. He would have kicked in the door to get to her—to make sure she was all right.
She was beautiful—even more so than she had been six years ago. Her blond hair was longer and lighter and her skin tanned as if she spent more time in the sun now. Of course six years ago she had been so focused on school—her first year of med school—that she’d no time for the sun or relaxation or her friends and family.
Until her sister had disappeared.
“You have to leave,” she said as she shoved on his chest again.
Already light-headed from the concussion, he stumbled back a step. To steady himself, he reached out and clasped her shoulders. Her blue eyes widened as she stared up at him. The urge to pull her closer overwhelmed him. It had been so long since he had held her that he ached to hold her again.
But that wasn’t why he had risked getting the door slammed in his face—or getting shoved out of her house. “There’s a girl missing,” he reminded her. “Her family is going crazy with fear.”
They had gone even crazier when he’d asked them about Lexi Drummond. Amy’s mother had gotten hysterical, hyperventilating so badly that they’d had to call for an ambulance. Her dad had been trying hard to hold his wife together even as he began to fall apart himself, shaking uncontrollably. Amy’s fiancé was the only one who’d managed to voice their fears aloud. “He has her then—that sick bastard who kills brides. She’s probably already dead!” And then the man, a big burly former college linebacker, had dropped to his knees and dissolved into broken sobs.
Jared released a ragged breath and repeated, “They’re going crazy with fear.” More so because of him, because he had taken away some of the hope they’d desperately been clinging to.
“Just like I went crazy,” she murmured.
She hadn’t gone crazy, but she’d certainly been upset and vulnerable. And he would never forgive himself for taking advantage of that vulnerability—of her.
“You know what they’re going through,” he said.
“I can empathize,” she said.
“You can help.”
She shook her head. “I tried to help six years ago. I told you who killed Lexi, but you wouldn’t listen to me.”
“It’s not him, Bec—Rebecca,” he said. He wished it had been. But the guy had had an ironclad alibi.
She sighed. “You wasted your time coming here,” she said, “if you’re still not going to listen to me.”
“All I want is for you to look at the picture and tell me how Lexi knew Amy Wilcox.” That was a lie. He wanted more—much more from Becca than that. But he had no right to expect or ask for anything from her—not even information.
She had barely looked at the picture. So he held it out to her again. But she had barely looked at him, either. Instead, she kept glancing over his head.
He was surprised to find her here—in Wisconsin and so close to where her sister’s car had been found. He’d thought for sure she would have wound up in another state—maybe even in another country—for her medical residency. Instead, she lived just down the road from the wooded area that law enforcement and search teams had torn apart looking for Lexi.
To no avail...
He glanced behind him, where she kept looking, and noticed the clock on the wall. Large metal hands moved across the surface of a barn picture, like a weather vane moving in the wind. Her house was cute—a sunshine-filled ranch with bright colors—like something that would’ve been featured in a country living magazine. He hadn’t pictured Becca winding up living in the country.
She’d wanted to do her residency in a big city. A bigger life than the small town where she’d grown up—just like Lexi had wanted.
She tore her gaze from the clock to focus on the photo. But not him.
Couldn’t she even stand to look at him? Had he hurt her that badly? Guilt clutched his heart, like her palm still clutched his chest. Instead of pushing him away, her hand held on to his coat and shirt—as if she needed some sort of support to look at the photo again.
“I’ve seen her face on the news,” she said. “But that’s the only place I remember seeing Amy Wilcox before.”
“We can look into their pasts—see how they’re connected. You can help me,” he urged her.
She shook her head. “I don’t know how she knew Lexi. But then again I was gone so much—for college and med school—that I didn’t know all of her friends. And Lexi was always making friends.” She smiled wistfully—sadly. “Everybody wanted to be her friend.”
Six years had passed, but it didn’t appear that Becca’s pain had lessened any. Her loss seemed as fresh and painful as it had when Lexi had first disappeared. She had loved her sister so much.
Regret clenched Jared’s heart—regret that he had hurt her. And regret that his being here was hurting her again. He shouldn’t have come. She wasn’t the only one he could have asked about Lexi.
“Do your parents still have your sister’s things?” he asked. He could talk to them instead. Maybe they would have something of Lexi’s—her journals or photos—that would explain her connection to Amy Wilcox and maybe lead him to a suspect that they had both known.
Or at least the suspect had known both of them. Maybe they’d been unaware of him. Jared had apprehended many suspects whose victims had never officially met them. They hadn’t even been aware that they were being followed.
“No,” Becca replied shortly, dashing his hopes.
He cursed. But he wasn’t surprised.
While some people kept shrines to their lost loved ones, leaving their things exactly as that person had left them, others removed every trace of them—as if that could make them forget their loss and pain. Her parents had been so broken and devastated that they hadn’t been able to talk to him or any of the other authorities. That was how he’d gotten so close to Becca—she had spoken for all of them, for her parents and for her missing sister.
“They couldn’t handle any reminders of her,” she said with a trace of resentment.
Had Becca been a reminder of her sister, too? Had they removed her from their lives, too? It might explain why she had settled in Wisconsin instead of the farm town where she’d grown up in Ohio—where her parents probably still lived unless that reminded them too much of Lexi, too.
“So I have her things,” Becca said matter-of-factly. She wouldn’t have wanted to forget her sister—no matter how much pain that loss caused her. She was incredibly strong; she had been strong six years ago—except for when she’d turned to him for comfort and support.
And oblivion. She’d told him she’d needed to think about something other than Lexi. Or actually that she’d needed to not think at all for a while. That was why she’d made love with him. He hadn’t had any excuse—except that he had been weak—too weak to fight his overwhelming attraction to her.
The attraction he still felt for her. But he couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t think about how she’d felt in his arms, how sweet her lips had tasted. He had to focus instead on the case.
So he breathed a sigh of relief that all leads weren’t lost. “That’s great. We need to look through her stuff and find out how she knew Amy.”
She stopped clutching his shirt and shoved at him again. Her voice cracking with panic, she said, “Not now. I don’t have time. You have to leave. Now!”
Behind him, the door rattled and then flew open and a little blond-haired boy ran into the house. He stopped short when he saw Jared and stared up at him—his blue eyes wide with surprise. He asked, “Who are you?”
YOUR FATHER. THE WORDS stuck in Rebecca’s throat along with the scream of protest she had wanted to utter when the door had opened. Of course Tommy’s mother would drop Alex off early today. The horn of the minivan tooted as Beverly backed out of the driveway.
“My name is Jared Bell,” the FBI agent answered his son. “What’s yours?”
“Alex...” Suddenly shy, the little boy ducked behind her legs and peered around her at Jared.
“Nice to meet you, Alex,” Jared replied. Then he raised his gaze from the little boy and met hers.
She expected accusation or at least suspicion. But pain and regret flickered through his amber-colored eyes instead. “I understand,” he said.
And her stomach clenched. Could he understand why she hadn’t told him? She wasn’t entirely sure that she understood herself. Of course his rejection had hurt her, and he’d told her that it would be better if they had no further contact. But he hadn’t known that she was pregnant. She hadn’t yet known she was pregnant when they’d broken up. But to break up, they would have actually had to be together. And all she had been to him was a slip in his professionalism. A mistake.
And she hadn’t wanted her child to be a mistake to him, as well. So she’d chosen not to tell Jared. But occasionally guilt overwhelmed her—like whenever Alex had asked her about his father. And now, when father and son finally came face-to-face.
Jared continued, “I understand why you didn’t want to talk about this case—with your son coming home.”
Her sister had never been just a case to Rebecca. “Alex knows about his aunt Lexi,” she said.
“I got my name from her,” the little boy interjected as he peeked around her legs again.
Jared smiled at the boy. “It’s a very good name, too.”
And Rebecca’s heart lurched at the deep grooves in his cheeks and at the warmth in his eyes. He was so handsome. But that wasn’t the only reason for her reaction. She hadn’t thought the no-nonsense FBI profiler would pay any attention to a child. He had never expressed any interest in them before. But he was being so sweet...
So Jared.
That was why she had fallen for him before—because he had been so sympathetic for her loss and so concerned for her well-being. She had thought he was falling for her, too. But he’d only been doing his job.
That was all he was doing now. She hadn’t seen him in nearly six years. He had moved on to the next case—the next murder and the next killer. But he was back now—because there was another case.
Another missing woman...
Another family going through what she and her parents had gone through—what they were still going through. “I want to help you,” she said.
He arched a brow as if surprised. “I thought you wanted to get rid of me.”
She had—when she’d been worried that he would realize Alex was his son. But he didn’t appear to have made the connection. Alex was small for his age, though. Perhaps Jared hadn’t realized how old the little boy was.
She really didn’t want to leave them alone while she retrieved the container of Lexi’s pictures and journals. “Alex needs a bath before bedtime,” she said. “He just got back from a playdate. Do you mind waiting?”
His body tensed with urgency. He probably hated waiting. Amy Wilcox had already been missing for days.
But Rebecca doubted that there was anything in Lexi’s personal effects that could lead him to the young woman. If the same man who’d taken Lexi had taken Amy, then Rebecca already knew who he was.
But Jared refused to believe her. He believed an alibi instead. But the alibi could have been faked. Or a killer could have been hired.
“I’ll wait,” he said. And he was already pulling out his cell phone.
Of course he had calls to make. When she’d known him before, he had constantly been on his phone—following up leads, checking in with other agents. The man lived and breathed his job. When he had worked her sister’s case, she had mistakenly believed his intensity had been personal.
But it was just who he was...
Intense.
Driven.
Determined.
But despite all those characteristics, he had been unable to find Lexi’s body. Or Lexi’s killer.
She left Jared to his calls and tugged Alex toward the bathroom. Usually after a playdate with Tommy, he was exhausted. When she hosted a playdate with the hyperactive Tommy, she was always exhausted afterward, too.
But now Alex was too curious to be tired. “Who is Jared Bell?” he asked as he pulled off his clothes and stepped into the bathtub.
Your father. The words popped into her head again but stuck in her throat. She couldn’t tell either of them the truth. Not now.
But guilt settled heavily on her heart. She should tell the truth. She probably would have—had she not been devastated by Jared’s rejection. But he hadn’t just rejected her; he’d rejected what she’d felt for him.
He’d told her that she didn’t really have any feelings for him. She was only fixated on him because he was investigating her sister’s disappearance—that he had become a surrogate of Lexi to her.
For such a brilliant man, he’d been incredibly dense and insensitive.
“Mr. Bell is...” She had no idea what to tell her son. Jared had never really been a friend. And she couldn’t tell Alex that he was an FBI agent. Her little boy would never go to sleep because he would have a million questions for Jared.
Alex was such a bright and inquisitive boy. His teachers had already moved him up a grade because they couldn’t challenge him. With his blond hair and blue eyes, he looked like her, but he had his father’s brilliance.
She’d had to work hard for her grades. That was why she’d been so consumed with studying that she’d lost touch with her sister. Then she’d lost her entirely.
“He has a gun, Mommy,” the little boy said.
How had he noticed the weapon holstered beneath Jared’s jacket?
“Was that why you hid behind my legs?” she asked. “Are you scared of him?”
Alex shook his head and sent droplets of water flying across the sand-colored tile walls and floor and her T-shirt. “No. He has a badge, too.”
Jared had always worn his badge clipped to his belt, but his jacket covered it. Of course her observant little boy would have somehow noticed it. He missed nothing. But a father...
“Mr. Bell is an FBI agent,” she reluctantly admitted.
As she’d expected, Alex sprang out of the bath, dripping water everywhere. “Can I talk to him? Can I?”
Before he could head to the door, she caught him up in a towel and dried him off and stalled.
“Do you think he’ll let me touch his gun?” Alex asked. “Do you think he ever shot somebody with it?”
She was pretty certain that he had, but not the person she’d wanted him to shoot—the person she was certain had killed her sister.
“It’s your bedtime,” she reminded her son.
“Oh, Mom, I can go to bed anytime,” Alex protested. “He’s an FBI agent!”
“And he’s here to talk to me about Aunt Lexi,” she said. “But you’ll be able to talk to him another time.” After she gathered her courage and told them both the truth.
It was time. It was actually past time that Jared and Alex learned they were father and son.
“If I see him again,” Alex muttered.
“You will,” she promised. But would he? Even after she told Jared the truth, would he want anything to do with his son? Would he want to be a father?
Or was he still all about his career?
The little boy dragged his feet getting ready for bed. He took forever to get into his pajamas and brush his teeth. And when she finally settled him into his bed, he sprang right back up.
“Mommy, there’s a man looking in the window!”
A creative child, he always came up with inventive excuses for not going to bed. So she was only humoring him when she turned
toward the window. But then she saw the man, too, staring into her son’s bedroom.
And she screamed.
Chapter Three
Her earlier soft cry had struck Jared like a blow. This one—loud and full of fear—pierced his soul. He ran down the hall she’d gone through and nearly collided with her as she rushed out of a room, the child clutched in her arms.
“Someone’s creeping around outside,” she said, “looking in the windows.”
He drew his weapon from beneath his jacket and headed toward the door. “Lock it behind me,” he directed her. “And don’t unlock it for anyone but me.”
He stepped outside and lights flashed and voices shouted. “Special Agent Bell! Special Agent Bell!”
He flinched at the lights and the noise and the fact that he hated reporters. He wanted to step back inside and slam the door shut on all of them. But he’d had Becca lock it behind him. If he knocked and had her open it, they would see her and take pictures and bombard her with intrusive, insensitive questions like they had when Lexi had disappeared.
Six years ago Becca had hated the reporters as much as he had. Actually more. He hadn’t begun to hate them until they’d turned on him—highlighting his one failure instead of all his success in apprehending serial killers.
“You’re all trespassing,” he informed them. “If you don’t get off this property, I will have the local authorities arrest you.”
While some of the reporters knew him well enough to know that his threat wasn’t empty and they began to walk away, another stepped forward—probably the one Becca had seen through her son’s bedroom window since the man stepped around the side of the house.
“Your being here confirms that this place belongs to Lexi Drummond’s sister,” the reporter brazenly said.
“My presence confirms nothing,” Jared replied. He holstered his gun, but then pulled out his cell phone. His threat wasn’t idle; he intended to have them all arrested—especially this man.
This reporter was tall and thin with a thick head of mostly artificial-looking blond hair and a big, snide grin. He wasn’t just doing his job; he enjoyed annoying the hell out of people, especially Jared.