A Baby For Agent Colton. Jennifer Morey

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      Jocelyn had a history that complemented Trevor’s. While his went over the top in drama, they both had lost people they loved to murder and had been driven into law enforcement as a result.

      “It’s changed us all.” Josie glanced over at Trevor as she leaned back. “Trevor is so serious and chained to his work, for example.”

      “I’ve noticed.” Jocelyn leaned back, too. “And he accuses me of owning a cat.”

      Josie laughed. “He’s obsessed with his work.”

      “That isn’t true,” Trevor said. “Not completely. And I’m right here.”

      Jocelyn continued to speak as though he wasn’t in the room. “Is that what makes him shy away from serious relationships?”

      Trevor sat on the corner of the desk. “Do we have to do this now?” Although Jocelyn teased in her usual fashion, this broached an uncomfortable subject.

      “I think foster care did that to him,” Josie said, sobering. “I mean, I’ve been away a long time, but Annabel told me he went through a rebellious stage. And he’s never gotten over what our dad did. Well...none of us did, really. How can we? Our father is a serial killer.”

      Trevor heard and felt all the years of suffering she’d endured—all the years of suffering they’d all endured. If the state hadn’t decided it wasn’t in their best interest to stay together, he could have found his brothers and sisters sooner. Chris wouldn’t have come to him with the doubt that had plagued him all these years.

      “Are you any closer to catching the copycat killer?” Josie asked Trevor. “It’s Jesse Willard’s half sister, right? That’s so unbelievable.”

      Ah, much better ground. “Regina Willard is a suspect.”

      He’d like nothing more than to put Matthew behind him once and for all, but this copycat killer prevented that. He could talk about the case much easier than he could about foster care, how bitterness had ruled, how he’d blamed Matthew—and still did—for taking his normal, stable life from him, life with a family. But all of that had been an illusion. Did normal and stable really exist for biological organisms? He kind of doubted it, since biological organisms all came to their inevitable, unwanted, terrible, dark deaths. Some died worse than others, like his mother. She’d been murdered by her own husband when she discovered what he was doing.

      “She probably works as a waitress and that’s where she encounters her victims,” Jocelyn said in his lapse, filling Josie in on what they knew so far. “Women with long dark hair trigger something for her, women who upset her, maybe rude diners. It reminds her of something from her past, sets her off.”

      “A man?” Josie asked. “Scorned woman syndrome?”

      “She could be going after women who remind her of the one who stole her man,” Trevor said. “Or it could be her father, women her father chose. Maybe they treated her poorly, according to her code.” All that had gone into his profile notes.

      Jocelyn sat back against his office desk chair, making him wonder what thoughts were going through her head right now. He could tell when she started to have ideas in a case. What idea had struck her now?

      The three fell into silence for another moment. Rather than talk the case with Jocelyn now, he turned to Josie. She leaned forward as though weighed by her own thoughts, head bent, brow low.

      “You okay, Josie?” He had to admit to some overprotectiveness toward his little sister.

      She looked up and seconds passed before she responded. “Someone’s been following me. I don’t know if it’s my imagination or not. I’m so used to looking over my shoulder that it’s hard to stop. I’m not quite used to living with a sense of security.”

      This, Trevor hadn’t expected. Someone was following her? Who? Why? She hadn’t come out of hiding very long ago. She needed time to adjust. Maybe she had imagined someone following her, but what if she hadn’t? It alarmed Trevor.

      “You’re not sure?”

      She opened her hands in frustration. “I saw him, but...no, I can’t be sure. I don’t want to take any chances. Are you sure Desmond Carlton is in prison?”

      “Locked away and won’t be let out. Yes, I’m very sure.” He’d reassure her, but if Carlton hadn’t been the one who followed her, who had?

      “What did the man who followed you look like?” Jocelyn asked, getting a notepad out from Trevor’s center desk drawer.

      “I didn’t get a good look at him,” Josie said. “I didn’t recognize him or his car.”

      “It was a man?” Jocelyn probed, taking out a pen next.

      “Yes.”

      “Anything strike you about him? His hair? Maybe a hat?”

      Josie shook her head. “He was too far away. Short hair, not thick. Sunglasses.”

      Jocelyn jotted down the information. People remembered more than they thought when they were being questioned by police. “Close-cropped hair?”

      “No, just thick and not long.”

      “Okay. Good. How high did he sit in the seat?”

      Josie sat straighter, eyes narrowing as she searched her memory. “Not high. Not low, either.”

      “So average build, you’d say?”

      Josie nodded. “Yes.”

      “Where were you when you saw him? Is that the only time you saw him?” Trevor asked.

      “When I came out of the market about a week ago. And again outside my house, except he drove past that time and didn’t seem to notice me.” She looked from Jocelyn to Trevor, clearly worried. “Can I trust the word of a reporter that everyone associated with the kingpin is either dead or in prison?”

      Trevor didn’t want to frighten her. “Not the word of a reporter, but I’ve seen no indication that you should be concerned.”

      Josie’s eyes closed briefly and she sighed. Then she waved a hand and stood. “It’s nothing. I’m being paranoid.”

      Trevor let her go to the door. He may not have given her cause for concern, but he’d keep a close eye on her.

      She smiled back at them. “I’ll leave you two love doves alone now.”

      He’d make sure his brothers were aware of this and put an agent on her. As for her parting comment...he’d just forget she’d said such a thing.

      * * *

      Jocelyn couldn’t stop thinking about Josie’s visit earlier today, what she’d made her begin to ponder. The sounds and sights of the busy and brightly lit diner outside Granite Gulch faded away. Of course Trevor would have a hard time as a fourteen-year-old whose father had murdered his mother and been thrown in prison as a serial killer. She hadn’t considered how that might mar his ability to maintain СКАЧАТЬ