Amberly and Cole came here Friday night to pack things away, and Monday afternoon she didn’t show up to pick up her kid from school,” he continued. “Do you know if anyone spoke to either of them between those times?” he asked.
“When I left here to pick you up at the airport I had a couple of deputies and another FBI agent canvassing the neighborhood to find out the last time either of them was seen.”
She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and punched in a number. “Adam. Any news?” She listened to the report, acutely aware of Jackson’s gaze taking her in from head to toe.
The temperature inside the house was a comfortable one for the heat of the night, but as her new partner’s gaze slid down the length of her, she felt the atmosphere in the room climb at least ten degrees warmer.
“Thanks,” she said to FBI agent Adam Forest, and then hung up. “According to what the officers have been able to find out for now, the next-door neighbor, Charles Baker, saw Cole and Amberly arrive here just after five on Friday night. About seven that same night he saw Cole again when he mowed the lawn. Nobody saw either of them after that...at least that we’ve talked to so far.”
She watched him open the top drawer of the dresser. She hadn’t had a chance to check things out this thoroughly before leaving the scene earlier to pick him up at the airport.
“Unless Sheriff Cole Caldwell is an unusual man for a sheriff, he didn’t leave here of his own volition.” He pulled a handgun from the drawer, along with a gold badge. “No sheriff I know would take off without his weapon and the very thing that defines him.”
Every muscle in Marjorie’s body tensed at the sight of the items. She’d hoped that this was all some kind of a mistake, that little Max and his father had somehow misunderstood, and Cole and Amberly had gone off for a mini-honeymoon.
“So, is this like what you were working on in Bachelor Moon?” she asked Jackson.
“Too early for me to make that jump.” He left the bedroom and she hurried after him. He walked back into the great room and stared at the coffee table and the oversize pillows. “On the surface things look very similar to what I was working on in Bachelor Moon, but it would be a mistake for us to leap to any conclusions this early in the investigation.”
“I can take you to Amberly’s place now. I have a couple of officers sitting on it so that nothing is disturbed.”
Together they stepped outside, where they both removed their booties and gloves. “I’ll be honest with you—at the moment what I need is a good meal, a strong drink and a soft bed,” Jackson said.
“But we still need to go to Amberly’s,” Marjorie protested.
“That can wait until morning,” Jackson said. “Whatever happened to Sheriff Caldwell and his wife happened here, not at the house in Kansas City. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
“Exactly,” Marjorie replied. “And we need to work through the night if that’s what it takes to get to the bottom of this.”
“It’s going to take more than a single night to get to the bottom of this,” Jackson said as he headed for her car.
She hurried after him, irritated by his lack of work ethic. She didn’t know how they solved crime in Louisiana, but they sure as heck didn’t do it in Kansas City by eating a good steak and finding a soft bed.
“But you know how important the first forty-eight hours are right after a crime,” she said as they got into her car.
“I know, but as far as I can figure, we’ve already lost our first forty-eight-hour window. My gut says they disappeared from here sometime Friday night, and here we are on Tuesday night. Besides, at this point all we have is two people not where they said they would be...nothing to indicate that an actual crime took place at all.”
“Trust me, if Amberly told Max she’d pick him up at school yesterday, nothing would have kept her away except something terrible,” Marjorie replied. “Max always came first with her.”
“Have you checked the local hospitals? Maybe one of them got sick and hasn’t had a chance to call.” He obviously read on her face that it hadn’t been done yet.
“Then that’s something you can take care of after you drop me off at whatever place I’m staying while I’m here in town.”
“You aren’t staying here in Mystic Lake. The director set you up in a motel in Kansas City. Don’t worry, there’s a restaurant right next door where you can feed your face.” She started the engine, fighting a new blast of irritation directed at him.
FBI agents didn’t work normal business hours. When in the middle of a case they worked until they physically couldn’t work any longer.
To make matters worse, as she began the drive back toward the city, not only did Special Agent Jackson Revannaugh fall asleep, but the car filled with his faint, deep snores.
She was livid that she’d put off beginning the official investigation until this Louisiana man had arrived. She was ticked off that somehow her director thought he could potentially add a valuable perspective on the crime.
As if fate hadn’t already delivered enough painful hits in her life, it had now delivered up to her the partner from hell.
Chapter Two
Jackson shot straight up in bed, his heart beating frantically as early-morning light shone through the half-closed curtains on the nearby window. It took him several minutes to process the nightmares that had haunted his sleep and a little more time to realize exactly where he was.
Kansas City...the Regent Motel. He muttered a curse as he saw the time. Six-thirty, and if he remembered right, Agent Uptight’s last words to him after dropping him off the night before were that she’d be here to pick him up at seven.
Coffee. He needed coffee to take away the lingering taste of the nightmares that had chased through his sleep. He spied a small coffeemaker on the vanity and waited for it to brew the single cup. While the coffee was brewing, he unlocked his motel room door just in case Marjorie showed up early.
Once the coffee was ready, he took a big swallow and then carried the cup into the bathroom and set it on the counter while he got into the shower.
He knew Marjorie was angry that he had called a halt to the night before, but he’d also known that he wouldn’t be any real asset to her unless he took the night to catch up on some sleep. The case in Bachelor Moon had nearly drained him dry, both physically and mentally, and he’d needed last night to transition, to prepare himself for this new investigation.
At least she’d been right—while the motel wasn’t five stars, it was adequate and there was a decent restaurant next door. He’d walked there last night and had enjoyed his first taste of Kansas City barbecue...a pulled-pork sandwich and the best onion rings he’d ever tasted.
Maybe it was the sweet, tangy sauce that had given him the nightmares, he thought as he turned off the water and stepped out of the enclosure.
His dreams had been haunted by Sam Connelly, his wife, Daniella, and their little girl, Macy—the missing family from Bachelor Moon, who had yet to be found. Dashing around the edges of the
