“Director?” She looked down at the file in her hand. “Is there anything I can do to help? I...recognize the name. I saw it in the cold-case database.”
“You spend much time there?”
“Some. I’ll occasionally study cold cases to see if there is anything I can do. I don’t want them to be forgotten.”
Ed filed that away for a later time. Cold cases were his own personal kryptonite as well. It took a certain kind of agent to go looking for answers in the past. “You can read it. But whatever you find...keep it to yourself. It...we’ve lost enough people because of this file, Miranda. I don’t want to lose anyone else.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched her walk away, spine straight with the confidence of youth and skill, and wondered.
Wondered if he was doing the right thing—Gabriella deserved to know he was still looking into Darrin’s death. Sending Dr. Talley to hunt for Paul Sturvin in Indianapolis was just an excuse.
They all had ghosts that haunted them.
Ed didn’t have much room for any others.
57
PAVAD was fast; Max had always appreciated that. When he’d called for the SEARCH team, there had been as quick a response as could be possible.
Max studied the two trackers quickly as they hopped out of the second helicopter. It had taken them a little over ninety minutes to mobilize and arrive. That was it.
He’d worked with both before.
It did surprise him to see Jac’s younger sister, Natalie, walking next to Micah Hanan, her two dogs trotting alongside her obediently, though.
He’d heard through the grapevine that Nat had transferred from the ATF to the newly forming PAVAD: SEARCH team. He just hadn’t crossed paths with her yet.
The other man was one he’d met before.
Micah Hanan was a transfer from an Oklahoma field office and the best tracker the FBI had. It wasn’t exactly a shock to see he’d taken a PAVAD appointment. PAVAD was the top of the line for those who dominated in specialized skills like tracking. Nat probably gave Hanan a real run for his money.
The woman was the best he’d ever seen working with K9 search dogs.
The absolute best.
She had a sixth sense for where people—especially children—would hide. Or be hidden.
She was only twenty-six years old, and looked about fourteen from a distance. The last time he and Jac had taken her out, she’d been carded twice. He’d teased her about that both times.
Worry for Nat was real; she was thinner than she had been before. If Nat broke one hundred pounds now, Max would eat his own hat.
Nat was looking too damned thin. Beneath their fragile exteriors, the Jones sisters were forged from steel. Forged in hell. Neither one of the sisters had had it easy living with that bastard Colonel Boyd Jones.
Fathers were supposed to protect their children. That hadn’t happened for Jac and Nat.
Jac hadn’t turned yet from where she was talking to the local LEOs who’d secured the scene. They had four officers, all the locals could spare, out canvasing the fields for any initial signs of Deborah Miller or the girls. So far, nothing.
“Jac.” Max put one hand on her shoulder and turned her slightly. “Nat.”
She recognized her sister and started down the road to meet her.
They had auxiliary agents on their way now. They’d be there in less than two hours. It was standard from here. Max knew that.
If Ava and Olivia were out there in these woods, they’d find them.
It was just a matter of time. The real question was what condition they’d been in when they were found.
58
Nat Jones gripped the leads to her two Belgian Tervurens as she took her first good look around the small Iowan road just one hundred feet from the Missouri border.
This was not the first time she had been searching for missing children. It wouldn’t be the last. Every single time, she imagined the nightmares that those children were feeling. In intense detail.
She’d been four the first time she and her sister had been left in the woods and told to fend for themselves. They had. For more than nine hours that first time.
Nat had enough nightmares of her own. Limited vision in her left eye thanks to the bomb that she had barely survived was a constant reminder of one of those nightmares.
She had barely passed the vision exam to get certified to work for the FBI now.
Had her sister not already worked for PAVAD, Nat wouldn’t have passed PAVAD’s entrance standards at all.
Nat snorted. That’s what she had heard a so-called friendly colleague saying to another teammate just three days ago.
Never mind that she had a reputation for being one of the best K9 handlers in the country.
Edward Dennis had been the one to get her here, and she was well aware of that. She wasn’t going to let that man down. But that was their secret. He’d cautioned her the day he’d interviewed her to keep that to herself.
She’d only gotten the job because of her sister, after all. Her sister and the father they both despised. Never mind the years she’d worked in the field to get to where she was.
Well, screw them. Nat knew what was important. Her sister, her dogs, and her job. In that very order.
She had nothing else now.
Nat ran a calming hand over her younger dog, Kudos. He always felt excitement when it was time to work. He fed off the energy of the searchers around him.
He wasn’t a quiet dog. Those unfamiliar with Kudos’s great amount of skill often questioned her training methods. Said he was too high strung and uncontrolled. A liability. Said that she, as small as she was, couldn’t truly control him.
She controlled him just fine. Because he loved her.
Once he was on the job,
