Jac was not about to go there. “He’s fine. I’ll sit with her. If you want to go to bed.”
“Thanks. It’s appreciated.” Marin gathered her things, then stood. She paused next to the door and looked back at Jac. “You know, family isn’t just biology. It’s the people who you care about and care about you. You’re welcome here. With us. Any time you need to be here. There will always be a place for you—and your sister. Make sure she knows that, too. Remember that.”
Weird. Marin was extremely weird. Jac tried to figure out what the woman meant over the next hour or so.
Fifteen minutes after two, the computer came through.
Jac had the first list of possible addresses for the younger half of Luther and Pauline Beise’s children. First thing in the morning, they’d track them all down and hopefully get to the answers. Someone knew what had happened to Helen. They just had to get them to spill.
37
Rex Weatherby was one of the biggest assholes in existence. Jim wanted to tell him that, but he’d never been stupid. For one thing, Weatherby was the size of an elephant, with fists that no doubt packed far too much power.
“Suspension. You’re kidding me?”
“For three weeks.” Weatherby practically growled it. “If it happens again, you’re on suspension.”
“I just wasn’t thinking. And it’s not like the beer was open. It’s just sixty miles between my place and the store. I figured I’d save on gas.”
“I get it. But, when in that uniform, you represent us all.” Weatherby still stared at him. It was the way the man had of looking at people that freaked people out. Not Jim, of course. He wasn’t a wimp. It just pissed him off, mostly. He hated being stared at. By anyone.
It was like Weatherby could see every sin Jim had ever committed.
It wasn’t like he’d drunk more than one of the beers. Technically, driving while doing it had been illegal. But he knew how to drive a car—even with a few beers under his belt.
No doubt it was Gunderson who’d seen him and complained.
Jim had recognized the man’s truck when he’d passed him on the road yesterday. That was the only vehicle he could remember passing at all.
Gunderson.
Prick always had had it in for him. From the very beginning at the academy.
Someone should really make Gunderson pay.
Jim thought about that all day, during one of the most boring shifts on the road he could remember. Everyone was staying busy in the fields, harvesting what they could before the weather turned bad. Rumor had it they were going to have an early snow front come through in the next week.
He’d only had opportunity to get two speeders all day. He recognized one as a Tyler boy, and the other was from another county. That one he gave a nice little ticket to. Mostly for the punk’s attitude.
If people would just cooperate with the patrolmen who pulled them over, and weren’t total dicks, then most times they got off with warnings.
But, no. So many people were aggressive and rude these days.
He amused himself with imagining what he’d do to that fool, Gunderson. How it would piss the guy off and totally throw the high and mighty DCI investigator off his game.
Yeah, that’s what he’d do. Teach Gunderson that messing with Jim was one of the dumbest-ass things Gunderson could do.
But first, he owed it to Luther’s kids to let them know things were going to get hot around here. Jim grabbed his phone and dialed. He’d lost touch with most of his stepcousin’s kids, but that oldest girl.
She was a real piece of work, that one.
“Diane? Girl, this is your daddy’s cousin. Jim.”
Chapter 38
It was a nice office, with that clean, white painted cubicle business that was the standard just about everywhere Jac had ever seen. This familiar sight had her relaxing a little. Jac hated being the one walking into these types of situations. Interviews were most certainly not her strong suit.
She preferred tracking people through the internet. It was as simple as that. But she was PAVAD, and PAVAD agents had the skills necessary to investigate whatever and however was needed. Jac was proud of that.
She and Dr. Appell, the brunette trainee, followed Clint into the investment firm and spoke to the receptionist on the second floor.
Luke Meynard had done well for himself, according to what Jac had been able to find about him.
Unlike his older siblings, Luke had a small savings in the bank, was apparently happily married—she’d found a social media page for his wife—and secure in his career. He’d been with the same investment firm in Casper for more than four years. At twenty-six, he was doing very well.
The receptionist seemed to enjoy Clint smiling at her. She was very helpful—when he did the talking. Jac had learned to work with whatever hand they were given. Besides, she understood.
There was something about Clint that made a woman feel…safe.
She did.
It could be because of what he meant to Miranda, or that she’d met him before. She’d even held his daughter one day on her last visit, when Miranda had volunteered to babysit after Clint’s housekeeper abruptly quit. He leaned over her quietly while they waited for the receptionist to check if Luke Maynard was back from his lunch break. “You handling the questioning?”
Jac nodded. “Yes. I’m good.”
“If you’d prefer, I’ll handle it.”
“Why don’t we play it by ear?” She didn’t want to appear like she couldn’t do her job. She could do interviews—she just didn’t like doing them. “Did Miranda tell you how I feel about interviews?”
“No, honey. It’s written all over your face. You’re like an open book. Did you know that?”
Well, no. Heat hit her cheeks. “Is it?”
“Yep. Especially when you look at the other Agent Jones.”
There was a probing look in his eyes that Jac hadn’t missed.
Why was everyone so
