Searching (PAVAD- FBI Romantic Suspense Book 18) Read online

  “He’s her emergency contact, other than Rachel. The pastor of her church. Dani mentioned it to Whit. Whit’s calling the pastor and letting him know we’re on the way.”

  She shook her head. “I was so focused on just evading Barnes, I wasn’t really paying attention to Whit.”

  “The last thing we needed on this case is Todd Barnes.”

  “Tell me about it. Hopefully, when this is over, he’ll slink back under whatever rock he came from. And keep his hands to himself this time.”

  Max shot a quick look at her before returning his gaze to the road. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing. It’s not that important.”

  “Jac…don’t shut me out. Not on this one.” Not ever again. Max knew what he wanted, but if he just told her—especially now—she’d build the wall around herself so fast he couldn’t stop it.

  He’d watched her do it time and time again before.

  “I…” She turned toward him. She was pale, worry was clear in her green eyes. “I don’t know that I can let anyone in right now. I feel this close, Max, this close to the edge. And I’m holding on by a thread. Cliché, maybe, but truth. My head keeps running with the what-ifs. What if something was wrong and Rachel knew it? What if this wasn’t just a crime of passion? What if there was something so broken in the Sturvins that it’s going to take all of them eventually? Maybe Rachel was going to ask for my help when she came over to work on the yard. I’ve held those girls. Ava calls me ‘Mith Jac.’ And Livy…she tried so hard to be just like Emery at the basketball game. She’s too young to be on Emery’s team, but she’s so good they moved her up to a more challenging level. You could just see the pride and awe in her eyes that night. These girls…they aren’t just victims or witnesses…”

  “They’re people we care about. I know. For every moment, I know. And it hurts.” Max reached out and wrapped one hand around hers. “We’ll make sure they are ok. Not forgotten. No matter what we find before this is finished.”

  “We’ll take care of them—for Rachel. And for everyone out there that loves them.”

  Max just hoped they could keep that promise.

  50

  “So what do we know about Deborah Miller, Debbie?” Jac asked as Max drove through the small town an hour northwest of St. Louis where Rachel had grown up.

  It was just a small town with around five hundred people. Most commuted into the city. It was surrounded by fields and forest. Most of the houses had probably been built somewhere between the 1920s and the 1960s. They probably cost a fourth of what those in the Sturvins’ neighborhood had. But there was a warmth that was hard to miss.

  There were flyers for a community Thanksgiving hung up where they could read them.

  They found the church. The Hope Life Church near the western boundary of the small town stood out, a metal building with a bright gold steeple standing almost garish on top. It was the largest building in the town. The newest.

  It stood out of place like a turtle in the midst of a pack of puppies.

  “Hope Life?” Jac looked at Max as something jogged her memory. “Wasn’t that the name of the church—”

  “The case we worked with the Chalmerses in Evalyn, Nebraska. Yeah, same denomination. They range from Canada all the way down to Brownsville, Texas. And are starting to expand west toward Utah and Nevada. It’s a growing movement.”

  “Great. Hopefully, this branch will be different than the last.” Jac hadn’t forgotten that case either. Some of her friends had had a personal involvement in what had happened. That case had left an indelible mark on quite a few members of PAVAD.

  “It’s a growing denomination in the country. Most are above board. I think it was just the one in Evalyn that was corrupt.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. But just in case, if it comes down to it, you and I, Dr. Jones, we’ve been married for ten years and have six kids, with another on the way in about seven months, ok? And you are really, really mean and possessive. Just flex the muscles and growl for me. You know how to do it.”

  She startled a laugh out of him. She used to always love to make him laugh. To tease. He was the only man she had ever teased with. Jac had seriously missed that.

  “I’ll remember that.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I always have your back.”

  Jac just stared at him as everything that had happened between them threatened to rise up and choke her again.

  She loved him. And probably always would.

  But nothing would ever come of that.

  She had gotten used to that idea weeks ago.

  Max shouldn’t have said that. They both knew that he hadn’t had her back two months ago. He’d panicked, and he’d overreacted. Publicly.

  He’d gone over every second of what had happened, looking for hints of why the kiss had impacted him that strongly.

  He still hadn’t figured that out. Other than it had signaled a massive change in their relationship that he had been unprepared to deal with right then.

  She’d been arguing with him.

  Jac avoided arguments whenever possible. Jac rarely raised her voice. She rarely disagreed with people. If it was something she didn’t believe in, she just quietly did her own thing anyway. It once drove him mad until he figured out why she was that way. Until she’d revealed more about her childhood.

  She did what she wanted for one simple reason—she’d always had only herself to guide her way through life from a very early age. And she’d dragged her younger sister along right behind her.

  Child abuse had a lifelong impact. He’d learned that with his ex, and what it had done to her.

  He had always wanted Jac to talk to him. That wasn’t her way; she had always internalized everything.

  They’d been arguing in Arkansas that day in her hotel room. Her cheeks had been flushed, her eyes shooting green fire at him.

  Before he had realized he had moved, Max had cupped her cheeks. Brushed his thumb over those soft, pink lips. Just trying to stop her angry words.

  He’d had enough of angry words that day.

  Max had just wanted the arguments to stop. He’d wanted to celebrate finding their friends safe when he’d been completely convinced that they would only find bodies. The last thing he’d wanted to do was argue with Jac.

  Not Jac.

  And then his lips had been on hers.

  That was all it had taken for his world to shift sideways.

  Kissing Jac.

  Kissing Jac had changed everything.

  He wanted to do it again.

  He wanted to do it again and again and again. And had since that night. That was part of his problem.

  He wanted Jac in his bed, in his arms, and in his life. Period.

  It was his inner caveman wanting to claim the woman he wanted. As his mate.

  Max wanted to spend forever with Jac. He wanted to watch Emery grow older, wanted to maybe have another kid or two, and he wanted to be with Jac every day for the rest of his life.

  That realization had absolutely terrified him.

  He’d studied sexual attraction. It was one of his specialties.

  He was in touch with his more primitive side. He knew one thing without a doubt—it wasn’t just sex between them. It wasn’t just sexual attraction. It was far more than that.

  There had been a deep trust between them, a trust he had never felt for another woman in the twenty or so years since he’d first noticed girls.

  He had thought time apart from her would change things. That had been behind his transfer request.

  That had been the dumbest impulse of his adult life.

  He’d shown up at PAVAD earlier than usual and run into Malachi Brockman and Michael Hellbrook.

  The other men had asked him what was wrong. Max had ended up spilling his guts. Spilling exactly how he felt to men he trusted—who had been involved with women they worked with and married.

  Malachi had asked him what he wanted to do about it.r />
  Like a fool, Max had asked to be transferred to one of the other complex crime teams.

  Just like that, he had been, courtesy of Hellbrook.

  He thought he had loved Pamela, but that had changed.

  His ex-wife breezed into town once every six months, they had a half hour to hour visit every so often. And that was enough for her.

  Emery hadn’t seemed to miss her.

  Until lately.

  She missed Jac far, far more. It had taken Max a month or so to figure that out. He’d been stupid, in that regard.

  It was after a particularly bad tantrum—Emery still hadn’t quite outgrown tantrums, though she was getting there—that she’d told him how she was feeling. She had wanted her Jac back.

  She had thought Jac didn’t love her or want her any longer. Just like her mother. He hadn’t realized Emery had felt that strongly about Pamela’s actions. He should have. He’d failed his daughter in that regard. He knew better now.

  That one tantrum had given him new insight into himself. Into his entire life. Max had spent weeks thinking about every aspect of his life and what it meant to him, and what he needed. Wanted.

  Emery, Jaclyn, his mother and sisters, his friends, and PAVAD. They were what he valued the most. They were his world.

  Jac had been fulfilling the role of substitute mother for his daughter for years. Max hadn’t even realized it. His theoretical run for the hills had impacted not just his life, but his daughter’s as well. And not in a good way.

  He’d damned himself a hundred times for that. Now, he was going to do his best to fix what he’d screwed up for all of them.

  “We’ll talk more. Once we find the girls and…” He parked the car in the church parking lot and they got out, almost silent. He looked at her. “You and me, and what’s there between us.”

  The killer. He hadn’t forgotten what they were doing right now. Not even for a moment.

  Jac turned and approached the small church. Before he knew it, she was in the foyer. The pastor, a man around forty to forty-five, greeted them inside. He was pale, thin, and balding, with a solemn look on his face.

  “I understand you’re looking for Debbie? Debbie Miller?”

  Max nodded. Usually in interviews, especially with men over the age of forty, he handled it. That’s the way they’d always done it.

  But she surprised him. She stepped closer to the pastor and shook his hand, immediately taking charge. Max studied her for a quick moment. “Pastor Bartlett? I’m Agent Jaclyn Jones. Of PAVAD; out of St. Louis. We do have some questions about Debbie Miller. If you have time to meet with us?”

  Max just stood back, until the pastor looked at him, questioningly. “Dr. Max Jones, also PAVAD. No relation.”

  That was how they had always introduced themselves. Jones, but no connection between them.

  It felt awkward on his tongue. He damned well did feel connected to her now. The pastor nodded. Then turned his attention back to Jac. “Debbie works part-time as the church secretary. Mornings usually, about ten to two, Monday through Friday. When she didn’t show up this morning, I drove by her place. She wasn’t home. I was about ready to make some calls. See if anyone knew what was going on. It’s not like her not to call me.”

  He led them to a small celebration hall next to the sanctuary. Max estimated the church probably only held about one hundred people at full capacity. If the church had enough draw to fill it to full capacity.

  Objectively, it felt comfortable, welcoming. Far different than the one in Evalyn, Nebraska, had. That Hope Life Church was enough to give anyone nightmares. At least…any man with a daughter.

  “Her car was seen near the location of a crime scene,” Jac said gently.

  Max was surprised at how she sounded. He had always been the one to handle interviews, in general. He’d just immediately stepped up and handled them.

  Maybe he had been a bit too willing to handle it for her. It was entirely possible he had overshadowed her without even knowing it. Protecting her automatically, especially on the job, against any threat.

  But now, Jac didn’t need him to do that for her. She didn’t need him at all.

  He just hoped he could make her want him when this case was over.

  51

  “Is Debbie ok?” the pastor asked. Jac studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere, genuinely worried. She didn’t find him threatening, or overwhelming. He wasn’t forceful or overpowering. He was rather just average, the kind of man you could pass on the street a thousand times and never know it. But he had kind eyes. His eyes would make him stand out anywhere. “She’s a good friend of my mother’s. They’ve played cards together for years. To be honest we’re worried. Debbie doesn’t go many places. I wouldn’t call her a shut-in exactly or reclusive. But she goes to work part-time, pulls a pension from the school where she once worked as a cafeteria worker, and spends most of her time with her niece and her niece’s children. She often babysits the girls. She values her family more than anything.”

  What she was going to tell him was going to hurt. Jac knew that. There were no easy answers in this job. “Pastor Bartlett, Debbie’s niece Rachel was murdered this morning around midnight last night. Rachel and an elderly neighbor. We believe Debbie may have been a victim as well.”

  “You believe? Where is she? Is she in the hospital?” The man had paled right in front of her eyes.

  Jac studied his reactions carefully. “We don’t know where she’s at yet. We believe she was able to make it to her car and drive away from the scene. We also don’t know the location of her great-nieces. Anything you can tell us about Debbie may help us find them quickly. Our first objective is to find Livy and Ava, then the killer. We’re hoping Debbie can help us do that.”

  “Those girls are sweet little girls. Debbie adores them and they adore her.” Tears fell unabashedly from his gray eyes. His hurt was almost tangible.

  The man broke down. It took almost a half an hour to calm him down enough for him to be able to speak articulately about Debbie. “She’s as close to me as my own aunt. I’ve known her since I was fifteen.”

  “What can you tell us about her relationship with her niece?” Jac asked. Max just sat quietly taking notes. “Rachel’s relationship with her husband? The girls?”

  His face tightened. “Rachel and Debbie are extremely close. Debbie raised her. I’ve known Rachel her whole life. I knew her mother, before her mother passed away. After that, Rachel went to live with Debbie. She was seven or eight at the time, if I recall correctly. I was probably around twenty. We lived next door for years. I eventually married, and then when Rachel was a teenager, she babysat my daughter and my son. I officiated her marriage to Paul.”

  His mouth twisted at the last.

  Pastor Bartlett didn’t like Paul Sturvin.

  His was another name to add to the list of those who didn’t like Rachel’s husband. That list kept growing.

  “What can you tell us about him?” Jac asked. “We have yet to be able to locate him to tell him about his wife. To see if he has the girls with him. We understand he is on a business trip in Indianapolis.”

  “He was always traveling somewhere. He kept to himself. He didn’t attend services, but Rachel did every few months or so. Occasionally, she’d bring the girls. We’re a small church, still growing. Not many offerings for young families. Not the type that they were looking for anyway.”

  His face tightened at the end. Jac seized the hint.

  “What do you mean by that? What were they looking for?”

  “Paul Sturvin considers himself up-and-coming. I believe he is around thirty-eight or so. He wants to move up financially and socially. He wants his girls to go to the best schools; he is always speaking about his investments. Trying to make himself appear wealthier than what I suspect he is. Business contacts that he has. That sort of thing. I’m not exactly certain what business he is in, but he travels frequently. Leaving Rachel alone with the girls most nights.”

&n
bsp; “Was that a problem?” Max asked.

  He shook his head. “Not with the older daughter, Olivia. But with the baby, Rachel became violently ill. I believe she almost died during the pregnancy; I know Debbie was extremely worried. Debbie kept Olivia for a month or so midway through the pregnancy. To give Rachel time to rest. I don’t think Paul was very supportive at that time. I think they were having some difficulties then. Debbie let it slip that Paul seemed very angry at Rachel, as if he was blaming her for the troubles. Six months or so after Ava was born, Debbie said Rachel tried for another pregnancy, but wasn’t ever successful. That…Debbie thinks that made Paul angry. That they weren’t successful. She…Debbie didn’t have many people she confided in. I acted as a sounding board when I could.”

  Jac was trying to keep up with what he was saying.

  They had to find Paul Sturvin. That man was out there somewhere.

  Possibly with all of the answers they were looking for.

  The pastor continued. “After the baby was born, Rachel was bedridden for about a month. I remember Debbie being upset that Paul hadn’t taken any time off to help his wife with the baby or Olivia. None at all. Debbie moved in with them for that time. And she helped. She seemed to dislike Paul even more after that.”

  “In the four years since the baby was born, had they had noticeable marital problems?” Jac asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t believe so. After about a year, he convinced her that they needed to attend a larger church inside city limits. There were quite a few people there that he wanted to make connections with, Debbie had said. And there were more social activities for the girls. Which I can understand that. We’re building our programs here. But I got the sense that they were attending church with Paul simply to appease him. Rachel was comfortable here, loved living in this town. She did not want to move to the city. She told me once it is so impersonal there. But Paul…he sees church just as a way to hobnob with those of the social crowd he wants to connect with. Debbie said once that he’s always going on and on about being upwardly mobile, moving up into the lifestyle they deserve. This town wasn’t big enough for him, even though this was where Rachel and he met, where they lived for the first year or so they were together. He seemed content then—it is almost like he was an entirely different person back then. It’s sad, the damage greed can do to someone. It was always about going up, up, up with Paul. He never seems content.”