“But that means there are still ten out there. No reason to assume this is the Sturvin kid’s,” Barnes said.
“It’s hers. I can confirm that,” Max said.
“DNA will have to prove it, but for the time being, we’ll act as if it is. They’ll find my DNA on it, too. I’ve held it before. At Max’s house, and at the girls’ last basketball game. I know this kid, Barnes. It’s Ava’s. It’s all we have to go on. She was here. Now, we have to find her and her sister.” Jac turned to Max, afraid to let her hope show. “They were here. And from the handprints, they were alive.”
It was far more than they’d had before.
55
Miranda scratched at the area above the cast with frustration. She hated being sidelined like this. She wanted to be out there doing something productive, something that was going to get them just that much closer to finding those little girls.
Every time they were mentioned, Jac got a look of intense pain in her eyes. Miranda doubted the other woman knew that it was there, but Miranda hadn’t missed it. She didn’t think Max had missed it, either.
On the outside, Jac was acting the professional, but on the inside, the other woman was barely holding herself together.
Her friend was hurting.
Miranda wanted to find a way to fix that.
She stood. There was the whiteboard, and it could use some updating. She might not be out there physically searching for those girls, but she could find something here that helped.
Whit came in the conference room, long, lanky, broad-shouldered, and adorable with his shaggy caramel-colored hair and big puppy-dog-brown eyes. He didn’t look as much like a kid as he had when she had first met him five or six years ago. He’d grown into himself or something. He was a few years older than Miranda. And always seemed so alone now.
That was going to be her next project, once she fixed Jac and Max. Finding a woman for Whit. He deserved it. He was one of the best men—and agents—that she knew. And he had information for her.
“They found the car; signs of the girls were in it. They are calling the search teams out now.”
Miranda prayed it would be enough. That they would find those girls and soon.
“Any word on Paul Sturvin?” The man had to be out there somewhere.
“Not yet.”
She would have said more, but her phone buzzed. A quick check of the screen had her glancing at Whit in surprise. “It’s the director. He wants me in his office ASAP.”
“Go. I’ll take over here.”
“Keep me posted on anything from Jac or Max, ok?”
“Gotcha.” He nodded, shooting her a rare smile. Whit used to smile a lot in the early days. PAVAD had changed him. Miranda made herself a vow. She was going to have to find a way to fix Whit, too.
Someone had to do it, after all. It might as well be her.
56
Ed clutched the envelope close. It was a standard envelope, manila and large. Old. The contents had haunted him for twelve years now. The envelope was starting to show its age. Perhaps he should put it in a clean envelope, but that almost felt disrespectful in a way. Sacrilegious.
This file...it was the last one Darrin Hull had ever touched. Darrin. Twenty-eight years old at the time someone had tracked him and his wife and two young children down and executed them, along with a relative of Darrin’s wife.
In their own home.
Darrin had been the most junior agent on Ed’s team before Ed had moved into more administrative roles within the bureau.
Ed had stood at the back of the crowd at Darrin’s family’s quintuple funeral and made the dead father a vow.
He was going to see this case solved. He owed it to Darrin. To Theresa, Darrin’s wife. She’d been all of twenty-four when she’d been shot straight between the eyes. To Lois, Theresa’s grandmother who’d lived with them.
Theresa and Lois had done nothing to deserve what had happened to them. Nor had Darrin.
The children certainly hadn’t.
It was their children that he couldn’t forget. The youngest had been two.
Ed’s granddaughter Evalyn was a little over two now. The older Hull child had been four.
Four.
Defenseless.
He would have been sixteen now.
Ed had seven boys of his own; the adoption papers had been finalized eighteen months ago. The three older boys were around that age now, sixteen-year-old twins and seventeen-year-old Nate.
They had their whole lives ahead of them.
Darrin Hull’s son should have his life ahead of him, too.
“Give it to Agent Gabriella Sloane, at the Indianapolis field office. I want her to take one more look at this before she retires.” His old friend deserved to retire without shadows over her own head.
Darrin would always be a shadow—until they had the answers. Or a ghost that had haunted them both for far too long.
“Yes, sir. I’ll put it in her hands personally.”
“I’m going to hold you to that. This is the original case file. I have other copies, if Gabriella asks.”
“Should I expect anything in return?”
Ed shook his head. “But watch your back. I...it’s been twelve years, but I’m not sure the ones responsible aren’t still...a part of the bureau. With eyes and ears everywhere.”
Green eyes widened when she looked at him. There was a great deal of intelligence in those eyes. And in her file.
Miranda Talley was the same height as Ed. She had a direct, open manner about her. Trustworthiness. She was as honest
