Max wanted to spend forever with Jac. He wanted to watch Emery grow older, wanted to maybe have another kid or two, and he wanted to be with Jac every day for the rest of his life.
That realization had absolutely terrified him.
He’d studied sexual attraction. It was one of his specialties.
He was in touch with his more primitive side. He knew one thing without a doubt—it wasn’t just sex between them. It wasn’t just sexual attraction. It was far more than that.
There had been a deep trust between them, a trust he had never felt for another woman in the twenty or so years since he’d first noticed girls.
He had thought time apart from her would change things. That had been behind his transfer request.
That had been the dumbest impulse of his adult life.
He’d shown up at PAVAD earlier than usual and run into Malachi Brockman and Michael Hellbrook.
The other men had asked him what was wrong. Max had ended up spilling his guts. Spilling exactly how he felt to men he trusted—who had been involved with women they worked with and married.
Malachi had asked him what he wanted to do about it.
Like a fool, Max had asked to be transferred to one of the other complex crime teams.
Just like that, he had been, courtesy of Hellbrook.
He thought he had loved Pamela, but that had changed.
His ex-wife breezed into town once every six months, they had a half hour to hour visit every so often. And that was enough for her.
Emery hadn’t seemed to miss her.
Until lately.
She missed Jac far, far more. It had taken Max a month or so to figure that out. He’d been stupid, in that regard.
It was after a particularly bad tantrum—Emery still hadn’t quite outgrown tantrums, though she was getting there—that she’d told him how she was feeling. She had wanted her Jac back.
She had thought Jac didn’t love her or want her any longer. Just like her mother. He hadn’t realized Emery had felt that strongly about Pamela’s actions. He should have. He’d failed his daughter in that regard. He knew better now.
That one tantrum had given him new insight into himself. Into his entire life. Max had spent weeks thinking about every aspect of his life and what it meant to him, and what he needed. Wanted.
Emery, Jaclyn, his mother and sisters, his friends, and PAVAD. They were what he valued the most. They were his world.
Jac had been fulfilling the role of substitute mother for his daughter for years. Max hadn’t even realized it. His theoretical run for the hills had impacted not just his life, but his daughter’s as well. And not in a good way.
He’d damned himself a hundred times for that. Now, he was going to do his best to fix what he’d screwed up for all of them.
“We’ll talk more. Once we find the girls and…” He parked the car in the church parking lot and they got out, almost silent. He looked at her. “You and me, and what’s there between us.”
The killer. He hadn’t forgotten what they were doing right now. Not even for a moment.
Jac turned and approached the small church. Before he knew it, she was in the foyer. The pastor, a man around forty to forty-five, greeted them inside. He was pale, thin, and balding, with a solemn look on his face.
“I understand you’re looking for Debbie? Debbie Miller?”
Max nodded. Usually in interviews, especially with men over the age of forty, he handled it. That’s the way they’d always done it.
But she surprised him. She stepped closer to the pastor and shook his hand, immediately taking charge. Max studied her for a quick moment. “Pastor Bartlett? I’m Agent Jaclyn Jones. Of PAVAD; out of St. Louis. We do have some questions about Debbie Miller. If you have time to meet with us?”
Max just stood back, until the pastor looked at him, questioningly. “Dr. Max Jones, also PAVAD. No relation.”
That was how they had always introduced themselves. Jones, but no connection between them.
It felt awkward on his tongue. He damned well did feel connected to her now. The pastor nodded. Then turned his attention back to Jac. “Debbie works part-time as the church secretary. Mornings usually, about ten to two, Monday through Friday. When she didn’t show up this morning, I drove by her place. She wasn’t home. I was about ready to make some calls. See if anyone knew what was going on. It’s not like her not to call me.”
He led them to a small celebration hall next to the sanctuary. Max estimated the church probably only held about one hundred people at full capacity. If the church had enough draw to fill it to full capacity.
Objectively, it felt comfortable, welcoming. Far different than the one in Evalyn, Nebraska, had. That Hope Life Church was enough to give anyone nightmares. At least…any man with a daughter.
“Her car was seen near the location of a crime scene,” Jac said gently.
Max was surprised at how she sounded. He had always been the one to handle interviews, in general. He’d just immediately stepped up and handled them.
Maybe he had been a bit too willing to handle it for her. It was entirely possible he had overshadowed her without even knowing it. Protecting her automatically, especially on the job, against any threat.
But now, Jac didn’t need him to do that for her. She didn’t need him at all.
He just hoped he could make her want him when this case was over.
51
“Is Debbie ok?” the pastor asked. Jac studied him for a moment. He seemed sincere, genuinely worried. She didn’t find him threatening, or overwhelming. He wasn’t forceful or overpowering. He was rather just average, the kind of man you could pass on the street a thousand times and never know it. But he had kind eyes. His eyes would make him stand out anywhere. “She’s a good friend of my mother’s. They’ve played cards together for years. To be honest we’re worried. Debbie doesn’t
