by Janie Crouch
“The state is definitely growing on me.”
That look again. The heat.
She learned that he was thirty-three years old, had three brothers, and his mom and dad still lived in Ohio. That he’d been married briefly when he was younger until his wife had decided marriage vows just weren’t for her and left him for another guy.
“Ouch.”
He shrugged. “It was painful at the time, but things happen for a reason. Like baseball not working out, my marriage falling apart helped point me in the direction of Omega Sector. I’ve never doubted that was where I was supposed to be. Was recruited there straight out of Quantico.”
He told her more about his life with Omega; some funny stories about some of his friends and how he’d played a part in cracking open the Chicago terrorist bombing a few weeks ago, which had led to the arrest of a US senator.
She told him about growing up as an only child. Of the parents she wasn’t very close to and how she had become a forensic artist.
“One of my friends witnessed a hit and run a couple of years ago in Dallas. She got a good look at the driver but was having a hard time describing him to the police accurately. I worked with her and was able to bring the drawing in, which eventually led to his arrest.”
“How’d you end up working for the FBI?”
“Someone from the local field office happened to be there when I came in. They saw what I’d done and asked if I could help with a kidnapping case they were working on. For the first couple of months I only worked a few hours a week.”
“Then once they discovered how good you were, you suddenly found yourself there full-time.”
She shrugged. “Basically. More than full-time.”
“And you probably didn’t take a break at all for the past two years, did you? A vacation?”
“No. There wasn’t time. There was always a case. Helping stop a kidnapper or a rapist or a robber always seemed more important than a vacation.”
“Then your mind decided you’d had enough and the stress triggers started.” He got quiet for a long moment before continuing. “Then you did finally take a vacation, but along came someone else needing you to help with a case.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured.
He then moved the conversation back to more neutral topics. More stories of his brothers and friends at Omega that kept her entertained.
All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. When he took her home the heat between them—which had nothing to do with the temperature outside—was palpable. Sherry thought she had some big decisions to make when Jon walked her up to her door.
He cupped her face with both hands and slid his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head back so they were looking at each other.
In that moment, whatever he wanted, she was willing. She couldn’t remember ever wanting something as much as she wanted Jon right then. As his lips moved toward hers, she raised herself up on her toes to meet him.
But instead of the heat-infused kiss she had expected, like the one from yesterday and the one that had been building between them the entire evening, his lips just briefly, softly, touched hers. Then skimmed over to her cheek.
“I had a wonderful time, Texas,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Then he was gone, leaving Sherry to wonder exactly what had happened.
She was still trying to figure that out now as she was directed back to the desk where Jon could be located here at the station.
He wasn’t kidding when he said they didn’t like him. Even the uniformed officers working the front desk had sneered when she said who she was here to see. She could see why that would wear thin pretty quickly.
He smiled and stood as she got to the desk the department had assigned him.
“You’re like the little wizard who lived under the stairs,” she muttered as he pulled up a chair for her to sit in.
“Did I mention that the department was hugely excited that federal law enforcement had been called in to help with the case?”
“They weren’t real subtle in demonstrating their disapproval, were they? I guess they couldn’t find an actual closet to put you in?”
Jon chuckled. “It’s fine. I haven’t been here very often anyway. I’m out at scenes and interviews more.”
Zane Wales came over to Jon’s desk.
“We’ve got one of the conference rooms cleared so y’all can use it,” he told them then turned to Sherry. “Both times I’ve seen you I’ve been in a huge hurry. Sorry about that. I’m Zane Wales.”
Sherry shook his outstretched hand.
“You’re Caroline’s...” Sherry wasn’t sure what the word was. Friend? Ex-friend? Soul mate? Sworn enemy? Better to stick with something safe. “You know Caroline.”
Some emotion flashed across his face too quickly for Sherry to read. Whatever Zane felt for Caroline, it wasn’t neutral.
“I do know her. We’ve known each other since we were in fourth grade.”
Evidently, Caroline hadn’t been lying when she’d said it was complicated.
They followed Zane into the conference room and Jon set out the files on the table for her.
“I thought you were a forensic artist, not an agent,” Zane said.
“She is, but she’s just going to look through the files, see if she notices anything we’ve missed. At this point, any other qualified set of eyes can only help us.”
“I don’t disagree with you, but the captain and Spangler will throw a hissy fit if they see her in here.”
“This is my call, and I stand behind it. Plus, she’s a licensed forensic artist in Texas, so neither of them should have cause for complaint.”
“That doesn’t mean they won’t, though,” the younger man said.
“Zane, run some interference for us, man.” Jon turned to face him. “Let’s all start working like we’re on the same team. Because since Dana Grimaldi ended up not being attacked by our guy...”
“He’s going to strike again soon,” Zane finished for him.
Jon nodded. “If everyone here wants to hate me, that’s fine. I can take it. But let’s catch this son of a bitch before some other poor woman gets raped.”
Zane looked at Sherry and then Jon as he walked to the door. “I’ll do what I can. I sure as hell hope you two find something.”
“We don’t have to do this here if it’s going to make everyone mad,” Sherry said after Zane left. “I’m not trying to make things worse for you.”
“No, I’d rather be here in case there are other resources we need.” He walked over to shut the door of the conference room. “Don’t worry about anybody else. How do you want to do this?”
She looked at the files, knew the graphic violence she would find when she opened them. Now that it was just the cases sitting right in front of her, Sherry could feel her stomach start to roll, muscles start to tighten. She wanted to turn and walk back out the way she came. Do anything but open these files.
She could feel the chill starting to work its way throughout her body.
She’d made a mistake. She thought she could be of help, thought she could—
“Sherry, look at me.”
She couldn’t seem to force her eyes away from the documents, from the shattered lives she knew she would find inside.
“Look at me, right now.”
Sherry forced her eyes up from the brown folders that had seemed to mesmerize her.
Jon made his way around the table and put both hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down. “I’m going to go through all those files before you even open them. All you need to read is the interview that the other forensic artist had with the victim. You don’t need to look at the pictures, don’t need the other details. Just the interviews to see i
f there were any questions you might have asked that were missed.”
Jon’s hazel eyes were close to hers and she could feel warmth where he was touching her.
“I’m going to be right here, okay?” he said. “Your lifeline, like we talked about yesterday. Everybody needs one in this line of work.”
Her lifeline. Yes, she needed someone to make sure she wasn’t going under. Jon would do that.
As if he could read her mind he said, “I’ll be right here. I won’t let you go under.”
Sherry took a breath and nodded. Okay, she could do this. At least she would try.
“I’m okay.”
He kissed her on the forehead. “You’re more than okay. You can do this.”
“I hope so.”
Chapter Fourteen
He’d almost lost her before they even got started.
It hadn’t been hard to see her panic when she saw the files out on the table. Jon could kick himself for not thinking it through more carefully. He should’ve known he couldn’t just hand her the documents—complete with gruesome pictures taken after the victims arrived at the hospital—and expect her to just sort through them.
That would be difficult enough for someone not already dealing with a trauma disorder. Sherry most definitely wasn’t ready for that. Jon, like her supervisor at the FBI, had treated her as if she were a trained agent.
She wasn’t. She was an artist. She might not have any sort of quirky artistic temperament or behavior, but she still wasn’t a trained agent. Everybody, including him, needed to remember that if they wanted Sherry to be able to continue to work long term.
He’d caught it in time and, as he’d promised, he would continue to be her lifeline throughout this entire process. To keep her from going under when the darkness was too overwhelming.
Sometimes the job of lifeline wasn’t sexy. As now. He’d just sat next to her, within arm’s reach, as she went through the interviews in the files. Even though the pictures were now gone, the words themselves, the descriptions of the attacks, were bad enough. Especially for someone who had a gift for visualizing.
They’d been at it all day. She was thorough. Taking notes—pages’ worth. Asking questions. Jon was so familiar with the cases he could answer most of her questions without even having to reference other materials.
He could tell when it would become overwhelming to her because she would look up for him, almost as if checking to be sure he was still there. When she would see him, she was able to mentally regroup and get back to work.
But it was painful for her.
He’d wanted to stop it, to give her a break, but except for the brief lunch they’d had, consisting of a sub sandwich he’d ordered in from around the corner, she’d wanted to keep going.
A couple of times he’d forced her to stop. To get up, to stretch, to walk around outside and get some sun. Her work ethic was impressive, but Jon was sure it had gone a long way toward the fragile mental state she was in. She had to learn not to labor herself into physical and emotional exhaustion every time she did forensic work.
As much as he wanted her expertise on the case, he also wanted to stop her and pull her into his lap. He was still trying to figure out why—and for heaven’s sake how—he’d walked away from her last night. All he’d wanted to do was to stay and give in to the heat that had been dancing between them all night.
Every part of him had wanted to remain. Sensing she’d wanted him to stay had made it twice as hard. No pun intended.
But somewhere Jon had known if he wanted to have any chance of a real relationship with Sherry he could not let the physical side of their connection get out of hand too fast. The blend of their personal and professional relationships was just too entwined right now. If he had taken her inside—taken her to bed—as he’d so desperately wanted to do last night, somewhere in the back of her mind his motive would always have been in question.
He didn’t let himself dwell too much on the real relationship thoughts that were running through his head because, yeah, that was a little scary, since they had known each other for only a few days and had only really kissed once.
Jon knew himself well enough to know that there was nothing casual in what he was feeling for Sherry. He hadn’t felt this way since... Hell, he didn’t know if he had ever felt this way about a woman.
But right now she needed him professionally. Her trust in him was humbling and he planned to show her that working on cases under the right circumstances and with someone looking out for her well-being didn’t have to be traumatic.
And as her lifeline he realized he needed to reel her in.
“Hey, it’s time to call it a day.” He reached for the file in her hand and was a little surprised when she let it go. Until he realized she was reaching for another one.
“I just want to go back over something that was written about the second victim.”
He took that one out of her hand, too. “And you can. Tomorrow.”
“Jon, I feel like I haven’t made any progress at all. All I’ve done all day is sit here and read.”
“And make about twelve pages of notes. And ask questions and understand more about the case and the monster who’s doing this.”
She grimaced. “Yeah, but that doesn’t do anything to stop him.”
“It might do more than you think.”
“This isn’t the usual way I’m brought into cases. I don’t normally look at files at all, especially not before talking to the victims. So I’m probably much slower at processing this stuff than what you’re used to.”
He ran a gentle hand down her arm. “You’re doing fine. I definitely don’t expect you to treat this like you’re an agent. I’m just hoping that easing you into it this way might help you with your panic attacks if and when you’re ready to talk to any of the victims.”
Or, God forbid, if there was a new victim that needed to be interviewed.
“I think a couple of these women might actually know more than they think they do,” she said. “There’re some questions that could’ve been asked that might help shed some light. I don’t know if they were asked or not.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I know they didn’t see the attacker’s features, but they may remember his general size, how broad he was across the chest and shoulders, giving us an idea about his weight, for example.”
“That would be at least something.”
“I know it doesn’t necessarily help you identify the man specifically, but it could at least eliminate certain groups.”
“I agree. And at this point we’ll take anything.”
“The only good thing about having so many victims is that I can try to use their memories as a collective. Nobody has to have seen everything about the guy who attacked them, but maybe they’ve all seen enough pieces to give us a framework of the whole.”
She paused for a moment. “I’ll need to talk to them, Jon.” The hesitancy in her voice was evident.
“We can take it slow. Ease you into it.”
“We can’t take it that slow. You and I both know that.”
“Well, I’m not going to let you become an indirect victim. You can only do what you can do, Sherry. I don’t expect more than that. Nobody expects more than that.”
She looked down at her hands and her hair fell on either side of her face. “I don’t even know if I can draw.”
He crouched next to her chair. “Like I said, whatever you can do. No matter what, I will be right there with you.”
“I’ll try.” She sighed. “These women have been through so much more than me that I feel like an utter fake even talking as though my problems are important. Line up the interviews as soon as you can.”
“Your issues aren’t fake, Sherry. And they need to be taken seriously.”
She peeked out at him. “You have to admit they’re not as serious as the problems these women are facing.”
“All that matters is how you handle them. You’re trying. That’s enough.”
She just shrugged.
“But right now we’re done for the day.” He began putting the files back in the correct order, making sure everything was where it belonged. Sherry stood and began helping him.
“Let’s get some dinner, okay?”
“Sure. Can you give me a ride? I caught one with Caroline this morning so I wouldn’t have to park.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Walking out of the station, Jon could feel eyes on them. Sherry was being branded an outsider merely by her association with him. She didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she didn’t care.
Zane had done a good job of keeping the conference room clear today, but when Jon saw Frank Spangler making his way toward them, he knew they weren’t going to make it out of the building without a confrontation.
“You may do things differently in your federal job, but here we don’t tend to invite our girlfriends to see evidence,” Spangler scoffed, stopping their walk toward the main door.
“Spangler, this is Sherry Mitchell. She’s assisting us with the serial rapist case.” He glanced at Sherry. “Sherry, you remember Spangler?”
Sherry’s eyes were cold. “We didn’t actually meet, but, yes, I remember you from the other night at the hospital,” she said to the older man.
Spangler shifted his weight. “Yeah, well, there isn’t much I can do when these women are hysterical.”
Sherry took a step toward Spangler, looking as if she might take a swing at him. Although Jon would do nothing but applaud that action, he knew it would just cause them all a bunch of headache in the long run. He slipped an arm around Sherry’s waist, lightly restraining her.
“Spangler has been removed from having contact with any of the victims, since his questioning style doesn’t seem to be producing any results,” Jon said.
