“Me, either, but I was hopeful. The fact that one of the Luna casualties, Aiden DeMarco, was the one who set up the soccer game and then his aunt was also hurt in a bomb? It seemed like maybe there was something to that.”
“I don’t think this bomber was after a specific—” She broke off on a mumbled curse.
“Keara?”
“Someone’s been in my house.”
“What?”
“My office doesn’t look right.”
“What do you mean? Are you sure?”
From the backseat, Patches whined, picking up on his anxiety.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
Her voice was hard and determined and he imagined her pulling her gun from its holster.
Jax punched down on the gas, wishing he was closer to her house. “I’m coming to you. Get out of the house, Keara.”
“I’m a police chief, Jax. And I’m already inside. I can handle a walk-through.”
“You need backup!”
“I’ll call them,” she promised, “But I need to go.”
“No! Just wait for backup. That has to be proced—”
“Jax. It doesn’t look like anyone is in here.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper and he had to strain to hear her final, “I’ll call you when it’s all clear.”
“No—”
He swore as he realized she’d hung up, then hit the gas harder, taking curves too fast. If a Desparre police officer pulled him over, all the better. Then he’d have backup.
He wasn’t an agent. He’d gone to the shooting range with the Anchorage agents enough to be a pretty good shot, but he didn’t carry a weapon. That wasn’t how Victim Specialists worked. On some level probably the agents’ teasing about him being an “agent wannabe” bothered him because it was true. Some part of him would have loved to get into the nitty gritty of an investigation, follow a trail of clues until an arrest and been the one to slap handcuffs on perpetrators. But he’d never pursued it, knowing the role he had now would ultimately fulfill him more.
At this moment, though, he wished he’d made a different decision. Wished he could be real help to Keara.
“Call Desparre PD,” he told his phone as Patches whimpered.
“Desparre Police Department,” a tired voice answered. It was familiar, but he wasn’t sure which officer had phone duty that night.
“It’s Jax Diallo,” he blurted. “Someone broke into the chief’s house. She needs backup right now.”
“What?” The officer’s surprise was overridden only by his sudden state of alert. “Okay, we’re on it. Do you know details? Is the person still there? Are they armed?”
“I don’t know. But Keara is there.” He couldn’t remember ever feeling this helpless.
“I’m sending help now,” the officer told him, then hung up.
Jax punched down a bit more on the gas, even though he knew he was approaching dangerous speeds. Then he called Ben.
From the sound of the agent’s voice when he answered, Jax had woken him up.
“I need agents at Keara’s house. Someone broke in,” Jax cut off his greeting.
He didn’t bother ending the call as he whipped his vehicle into Keara’s drive and slammed it into Park.
From the backseat, Patches slid across the seat and yelped.
“Sorry, Patches,” he said, then added, “Stay!” as he jumped out of the SUV and closed the door behind him.
He could hear police sirens in the distance, getting closer, but the house in front of him was mostly dark, only a porch light giving him any real visibility.
It wasn’t enough. For a house far from neighbors, set in the woods, it wasn’t nearly enough to see if a threat lurked nearby.
Jax glanced back, watching for the police cars. But they weren’t close enough yet.
He couldn’t wait. He ran around to the back of his vehicle and dug underneath the spare tire, hoping the rental company wanted their renters to be prepared. Relief filled him as he found a big metal hexagon wrench. It wasn’t a gun, but it was better than nothing.
He was racing toward the house, holding the wrench too tightly, when Keara stepped out the front door.
“It’s empty,” she told him, holstering her gun. “Whoever was in here was gone before I got home.” The hard fury on her face was only undermined by the vulnerability in her eyes.
His grip on the wrench loosened and he realized his hand hurt from how tightly he’d been gripping it.
Her gaze drifted to the wrench then back up to his face. “You were going to rush in here with nothing but that?” Her lips pursed with what looked like anger, but her forehead crinkled with confusion or concern and she went silent.
He didn’t bother to answer, just tried to breathe deeply, encourage his frenzied heartbeat to slow.
From the car, Patches called Woof! Woof! Woof!
Keara walked over to Jax, put her hand on his arm and he looped his free arm around her, yanking her against his chest.
Even with the sirens getting louder and louder, there was no way she’d miss his rapid heartbeat; no way she’d misunderstand his fear. But he didn’t say anything. Right now as much as he wanted to pursue something more, they were only colleagues. He’d known her for eight days. He had no right to tell her how to manage a crime scene at her own home.
But she whispered against his chest, “I’m sorry I worried you. I should have gone outside and waited for backup.”
As if her words had summoned them, a pair of trucks came screeching into her drive, portable sirens blaring.
Jax glanced behind him, letting go of Keara as officers jumped out of their vehicles, weapons ready.
Keara held up a hand. “It’s all clear. But someone was in my house.”
The officers holstered their weapons as Keara continued, “I don’t think anything was taken. It barely looks disturbed. I think whoever was here hoped I wouldn’t even realize it. But they definitely went through my office, especially all of my documents.”
“Any sign of forced entry?” Charlie Quinn asked. There was exhaustion in the dark circles under his eyes and an invisible weight that seemed to pull his whole face downward, but his voice was focused and clear.
“No.” Keara looked troubled as
