Searching (PAVAD- FBI Romantic Suspense Book 18)

by Calle J. Brookes

  “With Rachel?” Max asked quietly. “The girls?”

  “Both. Rachel, she doesn’t dress correctly. Isn’t poised enough. The girls don’t behave correctly. Olivia was having some struggles in kindergarten, and Debbie said that wasn’t good enough for Paul. Their home wasn’t enough, either. They’d paid off a small home in a neighborhood near the elementary school that Olivia would attend here. But it wasn’t good enough. Somehow, he managed to scrape together the money to buy a foreclosure near Old Jamestown. And instead of the public school, he enrolled Olivia in Brynlock Academy. Rachel knew nothing about that. He just told her to pack one day, that they were moving. He’d spent all of their savings—and the money she had from her parents’ life insurance policies—on a house she’d never even seen. Debbie had kept most of that money for her when she was an adult. Then it was just gone. If they had stayed where they were, money wouldn’t have been a problem, but the new house put a strain on their budget. Debbie said Paul threw a fit when Rachel suggested taking on a part-time job. He wanted no part of that, I think. They argued about it.”

  “It’s a good school,” Max said. “A great reputation, my own daughter goes there.”

  The pastor nodded. “I’ve heard it’s a wonderful school. Olivia seems to like it, according to Debbie. But they have to borrow money in order to pay her tuition each year. They argue about that a great deal. Rachel wanted her to go to a smaller school, far less expensive. Closer to the house and where the neighbors send their kids. But Paul would have no part of it. The director of the FBI’s children go to PAVAD, he told her this past school term. The mayor’s grandchildren. If it was good enough for them, it was good enough for Paul Sturvin’s daughters.”

  “So they argued a great deal about money?” Jac asked.

  One of the prime motives for murder was money. She’d have to get Dani on running life insurance policy checks as well. If the woman hadn’t already started.

  After they were back in the car, she looked Max. “I’m getting more and more interested in speaking with Paul Sturvin.”

  “You and me both. Studies show that wives are most often the victims in murders within families. Money is often a major motive.”

  “We need to go over Rachel’s cell phone; it might show us the most recent contact between her and her aunt. It might give us a clearer picture why the aunt was there. Although I believe the neighbor this morning. It makes sense. The girls wanted their mother, or maybe Debbie was ill herself and couldn’t handle two little girls. So she took them home, and into a nightmare.”

  Max nodded toward his phone. “Check my notes. We need to check Rachel’s phone. See if there are calls from Debbie or texts.”

  Jac nodded, and checked the list of items found by the original forensic team. The phone was listed. “I’ll text Kelly, see if the forensics team has started on it yet.”

  After a minute or two, the evidence supervisor texted her back. “That was quick. Kelly says that have the phone, and it’s with a tech, but they haven’t gotten fully into it yet.”

  No surprise. It took time to process every bit of evidence. Jac had seen some cases with tens of thousands of pieces of evidence collected that would have to be waded through. Hopefully, Rachel’s wouldn’t be anywhere near that scale.

  “Then that’s where we’re going. Back to PAVAD. Have you eaten anything today?”

  She shook her head. She hadn’t even had time to grab breakfast. She’d gotten the call from the coordinator Dan around six that morning. She’d showered and dressed quickly. After she realized what she was seeing, food had been the last thing on her mind.

  It was so common, normal, something they had done a thousand times together. Yet everything felt different now.

  Two months should’ve been long enough for her to forget, but apparently, it wasn’t. It was hard to forget those years of friendship in just two months.

  “What do you think happened?”

  He just shook his head slightly. “Until we find the location of Paul Sturvin and Debbie Miller, I’m not making any theories. But I know you have one.”

  “What if they were having financial trouble? It seems likely. I mean, the house they lived in didn’t come cheap. And if they were scrimping for tuition to Brynlock for Livy, paying for Ava’s preschool wouldn’t be any easier—the exact opposite. I’d be interested in talking to someone who knew more about Paul and Rachel’s relationship—and their finances. But that would most likely be Debbie. Until we can get a warrant for bank records. But…who is Paul close to? We need to find any friends he might have.”

  “Why do you think it was the husband? For all we know he is on a business trip to Indianapolis, about to be greeted by his worst nightmare.”

  Of course, Max would point that out. He always had been the devil’s advocate.

  “Possibly. But we should have found him by now. We both know that.” And the fact that they hadn’t deepened her suspicions. Jac knew the statistics. “Someone with nothing to hide isn’t all that hard to find.”

  “That doesn’t mean he was involved.”

  “But it doesn’t mean he wasn’t.”

  “Don’t make assumptions.”

  He must have told her that a thousand times over the last five years. Jac almost never listened. “I’m not. I’m theorizing. We need to find Debbie Miller.”

  “She has the answers. I just hope to hell that she has those kids someplace safe.”

  52

  They grabbed lunch in the cafeteria located at the back of the first floor of PAVAD. It was plain, utilitarian, but convenient. It reminded Jac of a run-down high school cafeteria, even though the paint was fresh and it was immaculately clean. The food wasn’t too horrible, either, though the sandwich and fries Max had ordered for her tasted like sawdust.

  She had her phone out; every texted result they’d received from forensics were available at the touch of a button. But Max wouldn’t let her think about it for the fifteen minutes they spent eating.

  He was a stickler about that; brain breaks, that was what he called them. He was almost rabid about taking care of her.

  He, Nat, and Miranda were the only people in the world who had ever done that since she’d been six and her mother had died. She’d become the caregiver then, focusing on keeping three-year-old Nat as safe as she possibly could while in the care of a monster.

  “Eat, Jac. You’ll not do anyone any good if you don’t take care of yourself.”

  “I can take care of myself, you know” But Jac dutifully picked up a French fry. “I’m pretty good at it.”

  “I know you are. But I need to take care of the people I love.” He stared straight at her. “And that includes you.”

  With one look at his eyes, she knew the truth. He didn’t mean platonically. No. He meant something far, far more than that.

  That was not something she could deal with right now. “Yeah, sure.”

  She deliberately looked away.

  “We’ll talk soon. I promise.”

  “No doubt, we will.” Jac stared right at him as something occurred to her. “Everything is changing, isn’t it? In general, and in between us.”

  He didn’t even hesitate before nodding. “Yes. But I think it needs to. I think it’s about time, don’t you? Five years is long enough for me to stop being so oblivious to what, who, has been right there with me from the very first moment. If this case shows us nothing, it’s that time…is fleeting. We expect tomorrow to be there, when it just might not be. I’m tired of living off waiting for tomorrow. Especially with you.”

  Before she could even react, he had her hand trapped in his. No one could see, not where they were sitting. But that touch scorched her.

  Made her feel a little less alone. Jac flipped her hand over and laced her fingers through Max’s without even thinking about the consequences. She stared into his eyes. She could almost see what he was thinking in that moment.

  He meant it. He truly meant it.

  Now, she had to fig
ure out what she was going to do about him.

  As soon as they found Rachel’s daughters.

  “Making out on the clock? Thought better of the great Mr. and Mrs. Jones,” a voice Jac recognized said from behind her shoulder. She couldn’t help it—she flinched and yanked her hand from Max’s. As if they had done something she should feel guilty about.

  “Shove it, Barnes,” Max said quietly. He pulled his hand back, but it was obvious he wasn’t in a hurry about it.

  Of course, he wasn’t.

  Max didn’t care if everyone in the building saw him touch her. To him, they were a done deal. Period.

  Now that Max had made his decision where she was concerned—whatever that decision was—he wasn’t going to ever hide that.

  Jac half feared she’d just be along for the ride. Max could be the most implacable, hardheaded man on the planet when his mind was made up about something.

  Jac was now that something. He was going to turn that Max power on her full force.

  It was just a matter of time.

  “So do you want what Eugene Lytel found or not?” Barnes asked in his slightly nasal tone, bringing Jac back to the issue at hand. She and Max—they were a time for later. Not now.

  “What?” Jac balled up the remainder of her lunch trash and turned to the man more fully.

  “The highway patrol found that Pontiac just over the Iowa line, abandoned. I figured the two of you might want to know.”

  Jac jumped to her feet. This was the first solid lead they had gotten in hours. She definitely wanted to be a part of it. “How long ago?”

  “Fifteen minutes ago. Lytel called me; he knows I’m working this one. We go way back.”

  Jac looked at Max. He was already on his feet, moving. Like she had known he would be. “Let’s go.”

  Barnes was two steps behind her. “Wait, so you’re just going to take off up there? Just like that?”

  “Yes,” Jac and Max replied together.

  Of course, they were. If Debbie had those girls with her, they needed to find her. Get them all into protective custody while they searched for the answers.

  Answers Debbie most likely possessed.

  There was no hesitation in her at all.

  53

  Todd hated helicopters with a passion. But there was no way he was going to let himself look like a pussy. He’d forgotten PAVAD had helicopters at its disposal. Helicopters and jets; he wished that prick Jones had gotten a jet instead of this.

  Now, he wished he hadn’t been in such a hurry to tell Jones about what Lytel had found. When Lytel had called him with a reminder of what Todd’s true purpose was, Todd hadn’t been able to resist using the new information the man had given him as an excuse for the call for his own advantage.

  He should have kept his stupid mouth shut and let someone else deliver the report that the car had been found.

  He was not going to puke. Todd was better than that.

  Airsickness had been one of his own secrets for years. But as he looked at Mr. and Mrs. Jones there across from him—they were so fucking obvious in how gone they were over each other—he refused to let that show.

  Jaclyn was pale, but there was a determined look on her face. Todd got the impression she was lost in her head somewhere. Of course, she was, she had her big guard dog there next to her protecting her from everything possible. All she had to do was think. The prick beside her would do everything else. Especially the heavy lifting. She’d not have to even lift a finger for anything with Dr. Jones there.

  Todd would just drop any idea of hooking up with Jaclyn permanently. That guy wasn’t letting her get snagged by another man anytime soon.

  Hell, Todd knew it—he envied the guy. Jaclyn was pressed up against Jones on the small bench seat across from Todd. The two of them looked good together.

  Like the PAVAD: FBI poster couple. Surprising envy filled his chest.

  Todd sat there and thought about his life and what he wanted next.

  Came to a decision.

  Once he made it to PAVAD long enough to do what he had to, he’d find a woman of his own there. Just for the hell of it.

  There had to be one or two he could be bothered dating. Finding something more with.

  There was Miranda Talley. Miranda. She’d made him laugh several times earlier. He found that very attractive.

  Maybe she was bigger than the women he usually found attractive—Todd’s taste ran to small, petite women that did what they were told, both in the bed and out—and had way more attitude than he was used to, but a change from his usual taste wouldn’t be all that difficult. She’d keep him fired up—that was for sure.

  And she would understand the job, that part of him that had brought him to the FBI in the first place.

  No. If nothing else, he suspected Miranda knew what she was doing in the bedroom. A woman like that always did.

  She’d probably be hot and fierce and demanding. He liked that idea.

  Jaclyn was the exact opposite. Soft and alluring and easily guided into exactly what a man wanted her to do. No doubt, the great Dr. Jones got off on that—liked feeling like the man.

  Todd used thoughts of the two women to distract him from what he was hurtling through the sky in.

  When he made it back to St. Louis, he was going to get more serious about convincing Miranda to give him a chance.

  She’d probably like him if she’d stop listening to the pricks in St. Louis who hated him. He was strong enough to handle a woman like that.

  Far more than any of the other pricks in St. Louis.

  The helicopter finally landed on a desolate stretch of Iowa Route J56. Todd breathed in, thankful his feet were back on firm ground.

  He took a look around. There was a gravel road off to the right of where the helicopter had landed. A pond was nearby.

  The sign for the Iowa/Missouri border was right there, too. There were a lot of fields, trees, and barren pavement.

  The red Pontiac was the only real spot of color. Garish and out of place.

  Todd’s stomach clenched—he had a feeling in his gut, someone had probably died right there.

  He hoped it wasn’t kids. Todd hated it when it was kids. He’d studied those photos of the two little girls, too.

  That and the state patrol cars with their lights blazing. Half a dozen local LEOs were waiting for them to take charge and do their job for them.

  The car sat awkwardly off the side of the gravel road, nose deep in the ditch. Pointed straight at the old wire fence separating the ditch from the field and pond.

  “So where did she go?” Todd asked. There wasn’t anywhere in this pit of desolation for anyone to go.

  54

  Jac approached the car carefully, aware that she wasn’t in sterile coveralls. She did not want to contaminate the scene. Barnes apparently felt no such concern. He lumbered down toward the car.

  “Be careful, Barnes. Don’t touch anything. Do not contaminate the forensic evidence, or you’ll be dealing with Marianna Dennis—the director’s wife.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Jaclyn.” But he stopped when she told him to.

  The rear window on the Pontiac was down.

  Jac used the flashlight Max handed her and ran the light across the rim of the window. There was a slightly purple film on the edge. “We have child-size fingerprints. Reasonably fresh.”

  Four handprints. Two different sizes. Right there on the glass. As if two children had put their hands on the glass and pulled themselves out of the car through the window.

  It would’ve been difficult, but the kids could’ve managed. Especially if they were scared enough. Or their aunt was helping them. The car door was wedged at the bottom against the ditch. They couldn’t have opened the door. And at the angle that the car sat, climbing out of that window would’ve been extremely difficult.

  But they had. “There’s blood on the car here. Outside.” Jac looked around where she stood.

  There were footprints. Child-sized, an
d some slightly bigger than her own. Debbie’s, most likely.

  And there was blood.

  “Yes.” Max said from behind her. She hadn’t realized that she’d spoken aloud.

  “What do a typical seven-year-old and four-year-old do when they’re scared?” She asked the one agent who was also a parent out there with her now. Her eyes met Max’s.

  There were too many memories of when she and Nat were little like that. Jac had spent her entire childhood protecting her sister.

  Olivia probably felt that same responsibility for Ava.

  It was a heavy burden to put on such small shoulders. It had taken Jac a long time to realize that about herself.

  Jac shined the light inside the car, looking for any clue to where Debbie could be headed.

  It was possible she’d killed her niece and Edith Lindsay and taken the girls for some reason known only to her—revenge, psychotic break, a need for children of her own again. Jac wasn’t making any assumptions.

  Not until they had more answers. The forensics team would be there as soon as they could get the van there. It would just take time. The teams were at least three hours by car from St. Louis.

  Time they couldn’t afford to lose. Not if the girls were out there.

  “There.” She focused the light on the interior.

  “What do you see?” Barnes demanded, practically stepping between her and Max.

  “Ava’s stuffed emu. Mr. Bird.”

  “How do you know? It could be any kid’s toy.”

  “It’s a specialty item that you can only get down at the mall. Max’s daughter, Emery, and I made one together about six months ago. Emery’s is purple and named Humphrey. That one in the car is the younger girl’s. It’s an emu with rainbow eyes named Mr. Bird. Not exactly a typical stuffed animal. They were limited edition. Only a dozen of that color were made, the store clerk told me. I…made one in that exact color, but I gave mine green eyes. Because Emery insisted they were the same color as my eyes. Ava doesn’t go anywhere without that stuffed bird, Max.”