She tasted like coffee with cream and sugar. She smelled faintly of the lavender soap in the hotel bathroom. She felt exactly right in his arms, like she belonged there.
Too soon, she was pulling back, her gaze serious, despite the passion that still lingered. “Sorry I was hard to deal with yesterday.”
He laughed, surprised at the admission. “Thanks for letting me win the argument.”
A grin burst on her face, her own laugh soft and short, and somehow, in that moment, he knew. However many dangers she faced because of her job, he still wanted to be with her.
Pulling free of his embrace, she told him, “I may not have known you long, Jax, but I’m figuring you out. And I didn’t want you and Patches trying to stand guard at my house.” She picked up her brush, started to pull her hair up into its customary work bun. “Much as I appreciate it,” she added.
He watched her a minute longer, gave her an easy smile when she glanced questioningly at him. It wasn’t time to talk about anything serious. He knew she wasn’t ready. But maybe if they could resolve this case, that would change.
Mentally shifting into work mode, he said, “If we assume the killer was planning to stick to pattern and leave after he set the bomb in Luna, that means most likely he spotted you at the scene at some point. Do you think he could have recognized you from Houston?”
Keara froze, one hand holding up all of her long hair, the other holding her brush. Then she continued working it into a bun, her voice steady but underlaid with anger as she replied, “It seems unlikely, but I guess it’s possible. More likely he heard my name and recognized that. Then he might have started digging up details on me. There was a picture of me in the paper back in Houston from Juan’s funeral. I’m sure that would come up if you dug enough.”
“So either he heard someone at the scene say your name or he talked to people, asked who you were,” Jax continued, thinking out loud.
“Probably,” Keara agreed, jamming bobby pins into her hair and then slapping her hands on her hips. “What are you thinking, Jax?”
At her insistent tone, Patches jumped off the bed, ran to her side and plopped down at her feet, staring up at him, too.
Jax couldn’t help another laugh. “Okay, Patches. I’ll get to the point.” He redirected his attention to Keara. “I’m the one you’ve had the most contact with from the team in Luna. Maybe the killer followed me, maybe not. But we know he’s been paying attention to you. We can assume he knows who I am.”
Keara’s eyes narrowed. “And...”
“We also know he didn’t get any information about the status of the investigation when he broke into your house.”
“Assuming this whole theory is right and it was the killer who broke in, then that’s true,” Keara agreed. “I don’t have any information about the bombings—or the killings or arson—at my home.”
“So he’s still looking for information.”
“And you have an idea,” Keara said.
“He might have already seen the sketch of himself, so I’m sure he’s being careful. Maybe he’s tried to change his appearance. But if he’s still here, he’ll want to find out the status of the case. Who better to get it from than the guy who’s been giving you information?”
“Okay,” Keara said slowly, her narrowed eyes telling him she didn’t like where this was headed.
“What if I go back to the scene in Desparre? The FBI has finished processing it, but I’ve seen residents there every day, leaving signs and stuffed animals for Nate and Talise, looking for information. They all know Patches and I are here to help the victims and the community. We can stick around, let people know we’re there for anyone who’s struggling to process this, to share what we can about how the investigation is going.”
“You hope he’ll hear about it and come talk to you,” Keara said, her expression telling him she liked this less and less with every word.
“Yes.” He stared back at her, trying to project confidence, even though it felt like a long shot. But a long shot was better than nothing.
She started to shake her head and he cut her off. “It’s daytime, so there are going to be plenty of people around. He’s not going to set off a bomb in the same spot twice.”
When she scowled even more at that, he insisted, “Hitting twice in the same state is already a departure for him. Yes, he’s been getting away with his crimes for a long time. But that’s because he’s smart and he’s patient. This is a pretty low-risk thing for me to do. It’s not really even that far from what I’d normally be doing right now. But maybe it will work. You and some of the agents can set up at a distance and watch. What do you think?”
She sighed and gave him a reluctant-looking nod. “Let’s call Ben and get his opinion.”
As Jax headed to the bathroom to get changed, he heard her on the phone with the FBI agent. She talked through his idea impartially and fully, even though he knew she would have preferred not to have him involved. But when he stepped out of the bathroom, ready for the day in his standard dark dress pants and a button-up shirt with an FBI jacket over it to let citizens know who he was, she nodded.
“We’re on.”
Twenty minutes later he was standing next to the temporary short fence that had been erected around the crime scene to keep anyone from hurting themselves before the damage could be repaired. As he looked around the empty scene, Jax wondered if his plan was a mistake.
Three days after the bomb had gone off in
