“And have our questions ready. What happened down there?” Max asked. The white bandage on his arm glowed against his slightly olive skin. Pauline Beise was still in Della. Her son was on his way to them. Knight had stated clearly that Miranda didn’t want them having a chance to talk to one another. Not exactly convenient, but she understood the reasoning.
Jac explained the situation as quickly as she could. “Lesley Beise is the first of Luther and Pauline’s children we’ve been able to find. The rest of them are very well hidden. It’s strange. Families have their secrets, but most don’t just up and disappear in the middle of the night—leaving a dead body behind. Not and stay this quiet. Not even the closest, most healthy-functioning families.”
“And they don’t attack like cornered animals when threatened either,” Max said.
“Well, two of the Beises do. Knight said Miranda hadn’t even said hello to Beise before he attacked. It’s likely he recognized her and reacted.”
Jac pushed back the concern for her friend. She had a job to do. “Now we have to find out why.”
33
The Evalyn, Nebraska hospital was almost as a small as the Masterson Community Hospital started by Joel Masterson’s mother so many years ago. “I think this place is familiar. I was on the Rei case as auxiliary.”
“I’m not familiar with it.”
“You ever met Ken and Leina Chalmers?”
“Ex-NFL Chalmers? We’ve worked together a time or two.” Her Knight-in-cranky-armor was still as grumbly as ever. Miranda didn’t care—she’d use him as a distraction as long as she could.
“That’s him. Well, she is from Evalyn and had some trouble here. You may want to read PAVAD case files before you make your decision, you know.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Start walking. Quit stalling.”
She hated hospitals, probably just as much as Jac did. Well, ok, maybe not that much. Miranda waited in the hard plastic chair until it was her turn. The Evalyn hospital only had three exam bays, and all three were in use. “Gotcha, boss. Will do.”
“How badly are you hurting?” he asked, obviously reluctant. Ah, poor Knight. He was starting to like her maybe a little.
Miranda always had been a hopeful person.
“Badly. But, shhh, don’t tell anyone. I’ve downplayed the danger level of our job to my family.”
“It’s not as dangerous as some people believe.”
She resisted looking at the very noticeable reminder on his forehead of just how dangerous and deadly their position with PAVAD could be.
Quarter inch difference, and Knight would have died—instantly. “Still, I don’t want them to worry.”
“You’re lucky.”
“How so?”
“You have people to worry about you. Not everyone can say that.”
“Like you? People care about you.”
He shot her a cynical look. “No. Not really. My foster brothers. I have two. Two who haven’t taken off since I was injured, anyway.”
“Do you still see them?”
He shook his head. “No. Email. That’s about it.”
Sad. Just how alone he was wasn’t lost on her. Miranda bit her lip as she considered, then put out the question she had been wondering about since that first moment on the plane. “And the Brockmans? I thought you were good friends with Mal for a while.”
His expression darkened. He leaned closer. Right into her personal space. “I don’t ever talk about Brockman. Remember that.”
Miranda recoiled. Ok. So that was a definite demon riding Knight’s back, then. She’d have to keep that in mind. “Message heard. Loud and clear. Now…get out of my space, Knight. I’m allergic to your cologne or something. You’re giving me hives.”
One large hand flashed out, quick as lightning. Miranda barely resisted flinching away just in time. His fingers cupped her cheek. Scorching hot against her skin. His fingertips brushed at her cheekbone lightly. “You scraped your skin. Here. You’re not as tough, not as invincible as you think. But then again, none of us are invincible, are we? We convince ourselves we’re more important than we really are. To our job, to our family, to the people we consider friends. Yet, when it’s the darkest hour, we’re alone. Always alone. I laid there on the floor of my apartment and waited to die. Alone. No one was there to help me, Sunny. Except the man who’d almost killed me. He called 911 that day. Him. A serial killer. If he hadn’t, I’d have died. Did you know that?”
Miranda wet her lips. Then nodded. She couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. “I know. I canvassed your apartment building that day. I confirmed that he was seen on your floor. I testified in the inquiry. I was one of the first PAVAD agents on scene—I didn’t live that far away. I saw them loading you into the ambulance. I prayed for you. For one moment, when I could.”
“While I was in a damned coma.”
“Yes.” It had hurt, seeing the crime scene photos again. Knowing one of the FBI’s own had been targeted because of his friendship with another. “Do you have any friends at all now, Knight? Or have you closed yourself off from everyone who ever mattered?”
His expression darkened, and Miranda feared she’d pushed him just a little too far. His finger slipped to her lips, and he traced the top ever so gently. Gently. Like he was containing himself, keeping himself from ever doing anything to hurt her.
But she felt the threat in the movement. The threat from the hunter stalking the prey he wanted to devour. “Knight? What are you…doing?”
“The thing is, Miranda Talley, I learned something that day.”
“What…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “What was that?”
“That I have never truly mattered. Not to anyone.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. Just
