He nodded. “I did. About four years back, but I’ve…known…him for a good twenty-five years. I heard what happened to him. Is he doing ok? Haven’t heard much from him, not since it happened. I was up there in the hospital with him for a few days. Until he kicked me out.”
He had a deep rumbly voice. Broad shoulders, warm dark-brown skin. A way of walking that shouted he was all-male. Miranda wasn’t blind to the effect. Then again, she bet most heterosexual women wouldn’t be.
“Knight... Knight does his own thing, and as far as I know, he’s doing fine. We worked together a few months back. He showed up just as I…well…” Miranda waved the cast a little. That was a case she’d never forget. “Just as I really needed him to. Came in real handy in keeping me from getting offed. Of course, he’s in and out all the time. Transferring to PAVAD soon, with an entire division to his name. At least, that’s what the rumors are saying.”
Miranda had had mixed emotions about Knight from the moment they’d worked together on her last case. That case had taken too much of a personal turn for her—and not just because it happened in her grandmother’s home. In her hometown. With people Miranda knew, had grown up with.
No, Allan Knight had made it personal.
Miranda hadn’t forgotten that.
One brief kiss. That’s all it had taken. It was well beyond the bounds of professionalism. He’d had no business putting his hands on her that day.
She hadn’t invited it. Of course, she hadn’t exactly pushed him away either. Even today, she wouldn’t. She had very complex emotions where Allan Knight was concerned.
Even if he was a curmudgeonly old ass. Well.
“You can set your stuff down in my office,” Agent Taggart said. He finally removed the glasses, revealing hazel eyes that were absolutely gorgeous.
This man was a real heartbreaker. Even though he did have the mannerisms of the soberest undertaker.
Miranda bit back a smile. She had always enjoyed figuring out enigmas.
“I’m trying to locate a man from St. Louis who was supposed to be here on a business trip.” She named the hotel quickly. “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to locate him. His wife was murdered in the early hours of the morning yesterday. An elderly neighbor heard the commotion; she was also killed. His two young daughters are missing. We need to find him.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll see what we can do.”
64
The girls were finally asleep. It had taken Paul far too long to calm them down after he’d finished with Debbie. Paul checked them both in the rearview mirror. He probably shouldn’t have killed her with the girls watching. He could have just left her there. That would have been best for the girls, after all.
Debbie had been on her last legs as it was. Chances of her being found in time for it to do any good would most likely have not happened.
But what was done was done.
He was going to have to work on controlling his temper. His actions.
Paul couldn’t afford mistakes like this.
Olivia had been watching him ever since, but now she was asleep.
She was becoming more defiant. Like her mother. He was going to have to address that when he could. She had to learn. Had to understand that everything he had done had been for her.
He would have to erase the sight of him dragging Debbie away into the woods, leaving her and Ava behind.
Paul looked down. He was going to have to change clothes soon. Debbie’s blood was all over him.
Olivia had seen it. He just knew it.
She was old enough, smart enough to know something bad had happened in those woods.
To his shame, he had done nothing to protect her. He had made a vow the first time he held her in his arms all those years ago and she’d smiled at him.
He was supposed to protect her. To give her the life she deserved.
He had failed.
Paul straightened in the driver’s seat. He had failed her now. He would not fail her or Ava ever again.
What was done was done.
It was time to look to the future now.
65
Miranda searched the generic hotel room, looking for some signs of the man who’d occupied it last. Security footage had shown that it was Paul Sturvin. She’d gotten a full view of him on the camera. Enough to easily identify him.
Nothing in his manner had shouted unease, or that he knew what had happened in St. Louis. Paul had checked in at 5:03 p.m. two evenings before. Phone records showed that he had called home for approximately thirty-two seconds.
The exact time length of the message he had left on his wife’s cell phone. A second phone call came fifteen seconds after that to the landline phone. To the voice machine. That call had lasted sixteen seconds.
He’d ordered room service two hours later. And was seen opening the door wearing what appeared to be sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He’d been barefooted. Miranda had made note of that on the camera.
Just a regular, average, normal businessman away on a business trip.
While his whole world fell apart behind him.
She was revising her earlier opinion on what had happened to the Sturvins. She’d thought family annihilator, but things were looking the exact opposite direction.
“So where is he?” she asked Taggart. He told her to call him by his last name. Said that he abhorred the name Walker.
Miranda wondered why he didn’t just change it. It wasn’t that much of a hassle. He was just as cantankerous as Knight. She could see the two men being friends. They had the same surly attitude.
Miranda fought the urge to do things just to shake Taggart up a bit.
She always had been contrary like that.
“No one saw him leave. He’s still checked in. At least according the supervisor at the front desk.” Which wasn’t all
