she in jail?” she asked through the lump in her throat.
He laughed, the sound vibrating through her shoulder. “ He is now a pastor. With five kids and a wife who adore him. People change, Quinn.” He stopped, looked straight into her eyes. “All the time. Don’t give up on your sister until you know for sure that she hasn’t. Okay?”
She nodded, and he smiled. Not an open cheerful smile. A soft one that made something in her heart spring to life.
“Good. Now, how about we go make sure our perp tells the police everything he told us.”
* * *
The thing about police was that they liked to be thorough. In small towns, like the one Malone and the team had found themselves stuck in, they were even more thorough.
He could understand that. Successful prosecution rested on their ability to process scenes and evidence properly. They often had to do it with a lower budget and fewer officers.
Yeah. He understood, and the deputy and sheriff who’d shown up in response to Chance’s call were as professional as any law enforcement officer Malone had ever met. He’d have been able to appreciate that, if he hadn’t been standing around twiddling his thumbs for an hour.
He glanced at his phone. No text from Boone. His connecting flight must have departed on time. Good news for Boone and for Jubilee. Agent Spellings had left a message after she’d heard from the local PD, and she’d assured Malone that they had Jubilee in protective custody. No one was going to get an opportunity to kidnap her. That was great.
What would have been greater would be the FBI bringing Jarrod Williams in for questioning.
That was currently out of the question. According to Spellings, there wasn’t enough probable cause. Could be that was true, but Malone had been doing a little research while he was waiting for the local PD to finish. Jarrod Williams was a big deal in Las Vegas. He owned enough property to be a millionaire several times over. He had several businesses and investments and was currently making a bid for state senate.
A guy like that would have a lot to lose if he went to jail. He’d have a lot to lose if people found out he was an abuser.
“You’re deep in thought,” Quinn said. She’d made herself comfortable on an old porch swing that hung from rusted chains. The thing looked as though it would fall if a feather landed on it, but the chains hadn’t quit yet.
“What did your sister say about Jarrod?” he asked.
“That’s what you were thinking about? Jarrod?” She rested her chin on her bent knees, the swing creaking as it moved. There were freckles on her nose and cheeks and her eyes seemed darker gray in the late-morning light. Slate rather than dove.
Pretty, but he wasn’t sure why he was noticing.
His job required he spend time with all different kinds of people. Men. Women. Children. Ugly. Attractive. Mean. Nice. Bitter. Sweet. He’d never cared one way or another about those things. His job was to find the missing and to bring them home, and that’s what he did.
Running the race but not noticing the scenery. He wanted to thank Chance for putting the thought in his head, because now he couldn’t shake it.
“That and other things,” he responded, stepping onto the porch and moving toward her.
She scooted over, patting the bench seat. “There’s room.”
“I’m not worried about room. I’m worried about weight limit.”
She laughed, but there was tension in her face, tightness in her narrow shoulders. “My sister didn’t say much about her husband. She said he was mean, that he had connections. That he could get her tossed into jail if he wanted to. Or have her silenced.”
“Did she tell you he was running for senate?”
“She said he was rich, and that she liked the money and wealth and things marrying him brought. She also said...” She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes closing briefly. “I can’t believe I forgot this.”
“What?”
“She said something
He laughed, the sound vibrating through her shoulder. “ He is now a pastor. With five kids and a wife who adore him. People change, Quinn.” He stopped, looked straight into her eyes. “All the time. Don’t give up on your sister until you know for sure that she hasn’t. Okay?”
She nodded, and he smiled. Not an open cheerful smile. A soft one that made something in her heart spring to life.
“Good. Now, how about we go make sure our perp tells the police everything he told us.”
* * *
The thing about police was that they liked to be thorough. In small towns, like the one Malone and the team had found themselves stuck in, they were even more thorough.
He could understand that. Successful prosecution rested on their ability to process scenes and evidence properly. They often had to do it with a lower budget and fewer officers.
Yeah. He understood, and the deputy and sheriff who’d shown up in response to Chance’s call were as professional as any law enforcement officer Malone had ever met. He’d have been able to appreciate that, if he hadn’t been standing around twiddling his thumbs for an hour.
He glanced at his phone. No text from Boone. His connecting flight must have departed on time. Good news for Boone and for Jubilee. Agent Spellings had left a message after she’d heard from the local PD, and she’d assured Malone that they had Jubilee in protective custody. No one was going to get an opportunity to kidnap her. That was great.
What would have been greater would be the FBI bringing Jarrod Williams in for questioning.
That was currently out of the question. According to Spellings, there wasn’t enough probable cause. Could be that was true, but Malone had been doing a little research while he was waiting for the local PD to finish. Jarrod Williams was a big deal in Las Vegas. He owned enough property to be a millionaire several times over. He had several businesses and investments and was currently making a bid for state senate.
A guy like that would have a lot to lose if he went to jail. He’d have a lot to lose if people found out he was an abuser.
“You’re deep in thought,” Quinn said. She’d made herself comfortable on an old porch swing that hung from rusted chains. The thing looked as though it would fall if a feather landed on it, but the chains hadn’t quit yet.
“What did your sister say about Jarrod?” he asked.
“That’s what you were thinking about? Jarrod?” She rested her chin on her bent knees, the swing creaking as it moved. There were freckles on her nose and cheeks and her eyes seemed darker gray in the late-morning light. Slate rather than dove.
Pretty, but he wasn’t sure why he was noticing.
His job required he spend time with all different kinds of people. Men. Women. Children. Ugly. Attractive. Mean. Nice. Bitter. Sweet. He’d never cared one way or another about those things. His job was to find the missing and to bring them home, and that’s what he did.
Running the race but not noticing the scenery. He wanted to thank Chance for putting the thought in his head, because now he couldn’t shake it.
“That and other things,” he responded, stepping onto the porch and moving toward her.
She scooted over, patting the bench seat. “There’s room.”
“I’m not worried about room. I’m worried about weight limit.”
She laughed, but there was tension in her face, tightness in her narrow shoulders. “My sister didn’t say much about her husband. She said he was mean, that he had connections. That he could get her tossed into jail if he wanted to. Or have her silenced.”
“Did she tell you he was running for senate?”
“She said he was rich, and that she liked the money and wealth and things marrying him brought. She also said...” She frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes closing briefly. “I can’t believe I forgot this.”
“What?”
“She said something
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