His lips thinned.
He didn’t like the idea of strange men anywhere near her. That could just be dangerous. The men who had paid him to dig into her were dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
The last agent he’d investigated had been killed. A bullet right between the eyes. Paul had sweated about that for a week until he’d realized no one had connected him to that man.
It was a deadly game Paul was playing now.
He’d seen Jaclyn again in the St. Louis field office two days after the carnival. He’d had a consult with the head of the new PAVAD: Cold Case department on what type of system they would be using. The man hadn’t moved offices to the PAVAD building yet.
Paul was supposed to feel him out somehow. He was to find out how the other man felt about PAVAD—and what had happened to him the night he had been shot in his own apartment.
Paul hadn’t gathered the courage to ask the man that.
Dr. Knight was one terrifying bastard. The people who were paying Paul probably didn’t realize that.
But the men who had hired him wanted Dr. Knight, too.
Paul wasn’t certain why Jaclyn had been there that day. She’d had a stack of files in her hands. Jaclyn had been laughing with another, taller redheaded young woman who had an equally large stack of files.
He had had a hard time not staring that day. Not leaving Dr. Knight standing and just going after Jaclyn.
Just to talk to her.
He wanted to get close enough to talk to her. To have her attention on him. At least for a few moments. He was only human. A man, after all. Jaclyn Jones was a beautiful, cultured, sophisticated woman.
He had always wished for a woman like that. Rachel was as close as he had ever gotten. But even she…had faults.
Paul was faithful to Rachel, and he would remain so. He had little respect for men who cheated on the wives dependent on them. That wasn’t the type of man Paul was, but Paul could fantasize about other women as often as he wanted.
When he was thinking about her, the stress he felt from trying to make all of this work just somehow melted away. Paul didn’t have much time, though he had checked the PAVAD database to find her exact location.
Jaclyn and her team would be in Vermont at least through the next day. The killer they were chasing hadn’t yet been identified, as far as Paul knew. He would take his time. Learn everything he could about her. What she liked, what she didn’t.
Who she loved.
He started with the half-dozen photos she had spread around the room. Six photos.
There was a young, dark-haired woman who greatly resembled Jaclyn. Her sister, most likely. Beautiful, in the same classic way. Jaclyn’s personnel file had referenced another woman in the division as being a relative.
The woman he vaguely recalled seeing at the FBI building was in another photo with Jaclyn. Tall, statuesque, redheaded. A good friend, possibly. That same woman was in a group photo with Jaclyn and a bunch of other attractive young women, surrounding an older lady.
The older woman was patting Jaclyn’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. They were in front of a building that had a sign: The Talley Inn. He took a photo of it with his own phone. He would find out exactly who they were—and what connection they had to Jaclyn.
He was being paid for information, after all.
The next photograph was of the Jones child from at least a few years ago. Emery, he believed her name was.
A beautiful girl. She had her arms wrapped around Jaclyn’s neck from behind. They were both smiling fully at the camera. The sun shone through their red hair, though their hair was of differing shades.
He wondered who had taken that photograph. What relationship the photographer had with Jaclyn.
It had most likely been Emery’s father. Max Jones. That made the most sense, and they were close. That man could prove a problem. Paul had dug through his file, too.
The next two photographs were older. Jaclyn’s mother, he suspected. She held a small girl in her arms whom he knew was Jaclyn. The hair and smile were very distinctive. She had been a classically beautiful child who had grown into a perfectly beautiful woman. Her mother had been a senator’s daughter, he believed. Her class and sophistication shown through the faded print.
He scanned each photograph with his phone. Information was golden, after all.
The last photograph was of Jaclyn, her sister, and a few women he recognized from PAVAD. Her friends. The PAVAD building was visible in the distance.
Interesting.
He saw no indication she had many connections outside of the FBI. Just those women at the inn.
Perhaps on his next trip, he would check out the Talley Inn. Once he figured out where it was, and her connection.
He’d slipped his shoes off at the door. He buried his toes in the rose carpet that was obviously new in the living room. She should have gone with the more luxurious hardwood like she had in the hallway. Rose was a ridiculously feminine color for carpeting. Very impractical.
But then again, Jaclyn Jones was an exceptionally feminine woman.
Paul wasn’t too thrilled that she had been targeted, though.
Perhaps he could misdirect them somehow. They trusted him somewhat. He had proven his worth to them several weeks ago. For a very hefty sum.
He could make it clear there was nothing on Jaclyn that they would ever be able to use. He had a very specific list of things they were looking for, after all. He could play the gallant, even if she never knew. Rescue her, much like he had Rachel.
He could do that—but if that pissed them off, he could lose this contract. His most lucrative contract.
Paul wasn’t ready to do that. Not with Olivia and Ava’s
