.
was new to Trevor and he liked it. However, he didn’t like the romantic connotations. Only Chris’s laid-back way made it bearable. Somewhat.
“Yeah. I’ve noticed.” But that didn’t mean he could act on his baser instincts. He had a job to do.
Even as he thought that last line, he could hear Jocelyn jumping at the chance to tease him. And what job is that, Agent Colton, being a professional stick-in-the-mud?
Trevor chuckled and Chris misunderstood the cause, laughing with him. A glimpse of the eleven-year-old boy flashed in his brother’s eyes and all the lost time taken from them made Trevor all the more determined to solve the Alphabet Killer case and put Matthew underground and out of their lives forever.
But first he had to find Regina Willard.
Three weeks later the DNA results came back on Jane McDonald and they did not match DNA found at other Alphabet Killer crime scenes. The DNA did, however, match the DNA sample they’d taken from Jane’s husband, the man who had claimed not to have killed her.
“Told you,” Trevor said, liking how Jocelyn’s head pivoted, her beautiful hazel eyes more green in the light.
“A good detective doesn’t jump to conclusions. She waits for the evidence to confirm suspicions.”
“She?”
Jocelyn smiled. “You’re a profiler.”
“Still a detective. And for the record, I had the husband pegged all along.”
Jocelyn wrinkled her nose at him, all in fun and with a cute smile that had him smiling back.
Another agent tapped the open door of Trevor’s office. “Your sister Josie is here.”
“Josie?” Trevor hadn’t expected her to stop by. She’d been avoiding him ever since he’d confronted her about going to see Matthew.
“Send her in.” He dropped the printout onto his messy desk. Books lay sideways and upright and this way and that on the bookshelf that ran along one wall. He had two uncomfortable chairs on the other side of his simple but big wood desk.
Jocelyn sat down on his comfortable desk chair and leaned back, thinking about the case, no doubt. He had to admire her tenacity. Despite his opinion that she’d be better suited at an ordinary job with a husband and a few kids—maybe a dog instead of a cat—she also made a good agent. He respected her for that. But he didn’t like thinking of her married. Why, he’d stop himself from wondering.
She looked up and caught him watching her and smiled. He felt pinned to where he stood, her beauty and light stunning him with a powerful zap of sexual chemistry.
Josie appeared in the doorway, a serious set to her smooth-skinned, striking face. And long dark hair. “Hey.”
“Josie.” Trevor moved around the desk and hugged his sister. He’d already spent a fair amount of time with her since her return from witness protection after witnessing a drug lord kill a man—a drug lord, who also happened to be the brother of her foster father.
He could see what the experience had done, how it had changed her. She was still recovering. “You remember Jocelyn?”
Jocelyn got up briefly to shake Josie’s hand over the desk.
“Yes, of course.” Josie looked back at her brother. “Anything new come up in the case? Sam said you got the DNA results from the latest murder.”
“Yeah.” He gestured to the DNA report. “No match.”
Josie slouched a bit, dropping down onto one of the uncomfortable chairs. “Damn. Are we ever going to be able to put Dad behind us?”
“Right now. He doesn’t matter anymore.” He felt Jocelyn’s assessment when he said that.
“Is he still playing that stupid game, saying he’ll give out clues when someone goes to see him?” Josie bobbed her crossed leg, arms leaning elegantly on the chair armrests.
“Yes. He says he’ll give you one. You should go see him again. Maybe he will this time.”
“Clue to what?” Jocelyn asked.
Trevor hadn’t yet told her about Matthew’s toying. He didn’t like talking about the man.
“He’s been dropping clues to where he left our mother’s body,” Josie said. “When he feels like it.”
Jocelyn leaned back on the chair, her investigator hat going on. “What kind of clues?”
Trevor leaned back against the bookshelf and let the girls talk.
“Texas, hill, the letter B, peaches and Biff,” Josie said. “Those are all we’ve gotten so far.”
Jocelyn lowered her hand and moved forward. “Wait a minute. He only gives clues when someone goes to see him and those are what he’s revealed?”
“Sam went to see him and Matthew told him Texas was his clue. Ethan went and he gave him the word hill. Ridge got the letter B. Annabel got peaches. Chris got Biff. We’ve tried to piece it all together. She’s somewhere in Texas, on a hill in a city that starts with a B. Biff was the name of our mother’s childhood golden retriever. The best we can tell is Dad buried her on our maternal grandparents’ property in Bearson, Texas. It’s an old house on a hill, really remote. There’s a peach tree in the backyard and that’s where Mom’s golden retriever was buried.”
Josie’s frustration came out in her tone and the way she folded her arms and had to stop talking, lest she begin to shout. His sister had plenty of fight in her.
“We’ve all been over that property a hundred times. We can’t find any sign of a grave,” he said.
“Why don’t you go see Matthew?” Jocelyn asked the sensitive question. “Keep going until he gives you the clue.”
Easier said than done. Trevor watched his sister struggle with that, hoped she wouldn’t blame herself.
“I’ve already tried. He won’t give Trevor a clue, either. He lies and leads us on to get visitors.”
“But if there’s the slightest chance...”
Josie began to get upset, the reason Trevor never pushed her. Maybe she’d go again in her own due time. Nothing would bring their mother back, so waiting made no difference.
“You don’t know our father,” Josie said.
“He’s dying,” Trevor said. “I think some part of him needs to reconnect with his kids before the cancer kills him, but he has a warped way of going about it.”
Josie said nothing, just lowered her head as the idea of facing her father settled over her. She rubbed her hands together, slow and something to do to ease her tension. She still needed time to recover.
Trevor pushed off the shelf and went to his sister, standing beside where she sat. “He has no empathy for what he put us through.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Josie.”
“What if he did give you a clue, though?” Jocelyn asked, steepling her fingers over the desk, oblivious to Josie’s discomfort, or the degree of it. She zeroed in on the investigation, hunting answers. She didn’t understand what the separation had done, in addition to their father’s crimes.
“You could find out where your mother is buried,” Jocelyn said. “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t do anything to do so.”
“Jocelyn,” Trevor warned gently.
She glanced up at him, seeing his face and realizing she’d pushed a boundary. Lowering her hands, she rested them over her forearms.
“I don’t ever want to see him again,” Josie said in a defensive tone.