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meet with a client in the morning, but after that, I might head over to Saltville and see if I can talk some sense into the police department,” Dean says.

I want to discourage him, but there’s no point. He’s going to do it whether I think he should or not. At least they’re used to us.

“Is it an interesting new case?”

“Probably not,” Dean says. “Just a guy who thinks his wife might be cheating on him with her yoga instructor.”

“I think I read that book,” I say.

Dean nods. “In all honesty, he could figure it out for himself, but if it makes him feel better for me to follow her around and take pictures, who am I to say no? It’s an easy case to pad my bank account a bit without having to put a lot of time into it. That way I can focus on Ashley without feeling as though I’m missing out on something.”

We both know even if he stopped taking paying clients completely while he was investigating Ashley Stevenson’s disappearance, he’d be fine. Not only would I never let my cousin struggle, but he has Xavier. We’re not entirely sure why, but Xavier has more money than he knows what to do with. It’s not something he talks about, which leads me to believe he either has always had that much money and is just used to it, or doesn’t realize how much he actually has.

Either way, he owns the house he and Dean live in and has given Dean access to his money to help him with things like paying bills and going grocery shopping. Those are the kinds of things Xavier’s best friend Andrew used to do for him before he was brutally murdered as a part of an Order initiation ritual that sent Xavier to prison for eight years.

As a contingency of his release pending his new trial, the judge required Xavier to have someone to help him reintegrate into the world he had trouble with before he was kept out of it for almost a decade. Dean had already connected with Xavier and stepped in. Since then, the two have developed a strong bond that is really amazing to see. They understand each other in a way I’m not sure anyone else does, and Xavier is fiercely protective of Dean. He knows Dean is supposed to be the one taking care of him, but as Dean once told me, they saved each other.

But that doesn’t mean Dean is willing to just let Xavier support him. He wants to continue to work and contribute, even if that means squeezing in awkward reality TV-esque cases between bouts of investigations he cares more about.

Twelve

My father and Xavier have just stalked purposefully through the living room and out the front door, my father with keys in hand. I’m not sure how I feel about whatever is going on between the two of them.

Actually, I do. Ominous. Ominous is how I feel about it. This is where things can start to go sideways. Not that I want to think two of the most important men in my life would actually go down a destructive path, but accidents happen.

My phone rings and I reach for it without checking the screen. My heart has already jumped into my throat and I’m starting to get up, expecting to hear Eric on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Griffin.”

That is not Eric. That would be Creagan.

“Yes,” I say, dropping back down onto the couch.

“Maybe you should straighten up your attitude when you’re speaking to me,” he says.

“We’re not in the office, Creagan. You called my personal number when I am not on duty,” I point out.

It aggravates me to no end when he says things like that to me. Some of the things I’ve heard the guys on the team say to him and to each other would be unfit for public airwaves, but he’s never called them out on it.

“That’s right. You’re not. Yet I hear you’re poking around the disappearance of that girl,” he says.

“You’re going to have to narrow that down a little. Unfortunately, there are a lot of girls who go missing,” I fire back, even though I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just enjoy chipping away at his arrogance.

Creagan is the type of man who likes to think everybody around him is so invested in what he thinks they will scramble to anticipate his priorities.

“The girl whose family tried to say she was a part of the Arrow Lake Campground murders,” he says.

“Her name is Ashley Stevenson,” I say. “And it’s not as if her family was trying to piggyback on those murders. They had every reason to believe there was a good chance she was one of the victims. The details of her disappearance correspond with many of the aspects of that case. She was ruled out, but she is still missing.”

“Her case isn’t the territory of the FBI. We’re not involved in trying to find her,” he says.

“I’m aware,” I say. “Considering that’s my case. I know the scope of the investigation. But I’m not including her in that investigation. I’m acting on a private basis. Consulting with the private investigator secured by the family.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yes,” I say. “As a matter of fact, Dean has been in extensive contact with the family, and they want him to take over the search for her. The local police haven’t made much headway. As you can imagine, five years is a long time for them to be just sitting around waiting to find out what happened to her.”

“Don’t let it interfere with the Arrow Lake investigation,” he says. The tone of his voice suggests he’s trying to warn me about something, but I stopped being intimidated by Creagan a long time ago.

If there is one thing that gives me the occasional moment of hesitation when it comes to being in the FBI, it’s Creagan. It’s never been exactly a lovefest between us. There’s been some

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