“I—”
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t say a word. And I get it. I truly do.”
38
Clint hadn’t meant to embarrass her, but the poor woman had looked like she was getting ready to vomit. He’d spoken with Miranda about her team before—and she’d agreed with his observation that Jac Jones was probably the most timid member of the team.
He was interested to see what she could do in the interview. Miranda had made it clear that Jac was a good agent and more than capable of doing her job. Just something about the shorter redhead with big, vulnerable eyes reminded him of the one currently waiting for him at home.
That was what it was.
He was looking at Jac Jones and thinking of the woman he should have protected better than he had.
Clint was going to just step back and let Jac do her job. She probably didn’t want him hovering over her any more than his housekeeper did.
He’d have to remember that.
Before Clint could say anything else to either Jac Jones or the even quieter Dr. Appell, a tall man with bronze hair approached them with a puzzled expression in his eyes. The man favored Luther Beise more than he did his mother—but he was a far cry from either of his parents. He was dressed in a suit that rivaled for cut and price and severity any that Clint had seen Agent Knight wear. His tie was perfectly straight. “I’m Luke Meynard. Can I help you with something? Mandy says you’re with the FBI?”
Jac stepped in front of Clint. Clint looked down at her for a moment. The area surrounding Meynard’s cubicle was rather small and located at the back of the office. It was a tight squeeze.
Red hair was right in front of his face.
He’d always liked redheads. Probably always would. All the women he’d ever loved—including his mother, who’d died when he was around four or so—had had red hair. Even his daughter had an orange tint to the peach fuzz covering her head, inherited from the grandmother she’d never know.
Jac’s hair was darker than his housekeeper’s, but damned if the woman in front of him didn’t remind him of her in so many ways. It was in the way they had of looking at him that did it. Made him want to protect, even though Jac Jones could no doubt take care of herself very, very well.
“Mr. Meynard, you are Luther Beise, Jr.?” Jac began.
“Yes, what’s this about?”
“Were you aware that you are operating under a false identity?”
“Actually, I’m not. I learned recently that my parents never legally changed our names, so I began the process myself six months ago. My employer is aware of it. And my attorney is handling everything.”
“Do you have verification of this?”
“Of course. My attorney would be happy to provide that information—if you explain to me what this is about?”
Clint probably wouldn’t have started with that tact, but he had to admit, the direct approach had its merits.
“Mr. Meynard,” Jac said, “We need to speak with you regarding the day your family left Masterson County, Wyoming. Is there any place we can speak privately?”
“Of course. Let me check with Edie about the conference room. I’m not sure what kind of help I can be. I was so sick that day, I barely remember any of it. Just my mother in a panic and us packing.”
“We just need to go over the details. We’re hoping you can clear up some inconsistencies for us.” Her tone had turned soothing, as if she too heard how confused the younger man was.
Five minutes later, they were in a generic, cream-painted conference room.
Clint took the seat on Jac’s left. Across from Luke Meynard. Dr. Appell took a seat four chairs down. He’d noticed the brunette liked her space. Extremely so.
“Tell us about your grandmother, Luke. Do you remember the last time you saw her?”
To Clint’s surprise, Luke Meynard hung his head slightly. Clint tensed.
There was no way the guy was getting ready to confess. It just didn’t work that way.
Not in Clint’s experience, anyway.
39
Jac forced herself not to tense. Luke’s cheeks had turned red, and there was a clear look of shame on his face. Luke knew something.
She’d bet money on it.
“Luke, could you start at the beginning of that day for us?”
“What is this about? What is my grandmother saying happened? It’s been fourteen years ago. I’m not sure why she’d send the FBI after us.”
Well.
That wasn’t what she’d expected. She shot a look at Clint, seeing the same surprise in his eyes. Clint nodded. Jac took in a breath. “Luke…nine weeks ago, the body of your grandmother was found buried in the barn of your family’s ranch. She’d been there for fourteen years. We believe she was killed the day your family left town. We need your help to figure out what actually happened that day.”
Every bit of color leeched out of his quietly handsome face. “Did I…did I do it?”
Well.
Jac leaned closer. “I don’t know. Can you tell us what happened that day?”
“I didn’t mean to hit her that hard. And she was ok when Mom got home. I swear.”
“Luke, we need you to slow down. Can you start at the beginning?”
“How far back? When I told Grandma I was too sick to go to school or when I hit her in the kitchen?”
“Let’s start at the moment you got out of bed.” Because Jac was almost convinced of one thing. A twelve-year-old boy who’d weighed approximately eighty-five pounds and had been short for his age had not buried his grandmother alive. Unless he’d had help. “What time did you wake up that morning?”
“Late. I remember that I had to scramble to get up in case I missed the bus. Grandma was yelling. Standing at the foot of the bed, telling me how worthless I was.”
“Was this something she did a lot of?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “She didn’t much like me, or Honey. Barely tolerated Jenny. She
