Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

deliver, but also wanting to help start the healing process. If Gabi felt like she was cut off from real information, it would only increase the helplessness she felt.

She nodded at him, her hand stalling against Patches’s head, her brow furrowed like she was trying to puzzle it out, too.

Despite research done by Ben and Anderson—and some curiosity searching Jax had done himself on publicly available sites—none of them understood it. They’d found symbols that were similar, but nothing close enough and so far, nothing else tied to a crime like this. If the bomber had been trying to send a message with the symbol, it appeared to be one only he understood.

Maybe the case Keara’s husband had investigated would provide the break they needed. When Jax had pressed him on it that morning, Anderson said he was waiting for a call back from the Houston detective.

“Is there anything else you can remember from yesterday morning?” Ben asked, stepping up next to Jax, crowding him just slightly, like he wanted Jax to step back.

Gabi glanced from him to Ben, then shook her head. “Not really. Carter and I were just going for a walk.” Her voice trembled on her fiancé’s name, then she cleared her throat and kept going. “We’d stopped to sit on the bench for a few minutes when it happened.”

“And you didn’t notice anyone behaving strangely?” Ben asked. “No one leaving the park or staring at it from a distance?”

The FBI had gotten news back from the lab that morning that the bomb had been set off remotely. That made it more likely the bomber had been nearby, watching for the exact moment he wanted it to detonate.

Gabi shook her head quickly, but she’d answered these questions before.

“Thanks, Gabi,” Jax said. “I know this isn’t easy. But if you think of anything—even if you’re not sure it matters—you can call any of us. And if you need to talk, I’m just a phone call away, day or night. You know Patches is always excited to come and see you.”

Beside her bed, Patches let out an affirmative woof!

Gabi startled at the sudden noise, then gave his dog a tiny smile.

Anderson shot him a look, but Jax ignored it. Technically, telling a victim they could call in the middle of the night was dangerous territory. He’d known Victim Specialists who’d fallen into roles halfway between personal therapist and best friend by being too available. But he worried more about not helping enough than being overwhelmed by a victim’s needs.

As Jax and Patches started to follow the agents out of the room, Gabi’s voice, more tentative than before, reached him.

“You’re going to catch the person who did this, right?”

“That’s why we’re here,” he assured her. “The FBI brought us in all the way from Anchorage because Agents Nez and Lync, and their colleagues, have a lot of experience. This case is the only thing they’re investigating right now. It’s our biggest priority.”

“That’s not an answer,” she said, more grief than anger in her words.

He nodded soberly. “I’m not going to make you a promise I can’t guarantee. But I’ll tell you this—we’re putting everything we have into this investigation. And when it comes to finding bombers, the FBI is very good. I’d bet on us.”

He stepped a little closer, wanting her to read on his face how much he believed it. “I can also promise to I’ll keep you informed. I believe we’ll get this person. You let us worry about that. You focus on getting better. Deal?”

She swiped a hand across her face, wiping away a rush of tears he pretended not to see. “Okay.”

He gave her an encouraging smile, then followed Ben and Anderson into the hall.

It wasn’t until they were outside the hospital that Ben halted suddenly, turning to face him and making Patches stop short. “You want to act like these victims’ personal therapist, that’s your business. I know you’re good at your job, so I’m not going to question your methods. But Anderson and I know what we’re doing, too. So let us do our jobs.”

Jax put his hands up, pasted an innocent look on his face.

“We asked you to come along because it makes the victims more comfortable. They connect with you and it reduces the stress of feeling like they need to give us information or we won’t find the person who killed someone they love. Or the stress of having to relive what happened to them. We’re happy to have you with us. But you’re not an agent, Jax. You need to remember that.”

Ben shook his head and spun around again, striding for the SUV.

Anderson gave Jax a sympathetic look, but he didn’t disagree with his partner, just followed.

Patches stared up at him, reading the tension, and Jax stroked her soft fur. “You did a good job, Patches. I’m the one who’s in trouble.”

She shifted, pressing all sixty pounds against him. She wasn’t that big, but she was strong.

He laughed, giving her an extra pat on the head. “Thanks, Patches. Let’s get going.”

She strode alongside him, her gait full of puppy energy. Sometimes, he forgot that at a year old, technically she still was a puppy. Despite the tough job he’d given her, despite the difficult start in life she’d had—being tossed onto the street to fend for herself at a few weeks old—she was always cheerful.

The perfect fit for a job like this. But sometimes the job still got to her.

Right now it was getting to him. And it wasn’t talking to the victims, as hard as that was.

He’d come to the FBI from private therapy to help stop perpetrators before they could become repeat offenders. He knew he made a difference here. But despite his training, despite how much he loved what he did, sometimes being a Victim Specialist felt too far on the sidelines.

Sometimes, it just didn’t feel like he was doing enough.

THE STATION WAS empty and dark.

Normally, Keara would be gone by now. Actually, if things were