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worry was clear in her green eyes. ā€œI donā€™t know that I can let anyone in right now. I feel this close, Max, this close to the edge. And Iā€™m holding on by a thread. ClichĆ©, maybe, but truth. My head keeps running with the what-ifs. What if something was wrong and Rachel knew it? What if this wasnā€™t just a crime of passion? What if there was something so broken in the Sturvins that itā€™s going to take all of them eventually? Maybe Rachel was going to ask for my help when she came over to work on the yard. Iā€™ve held those girls. Ava calls me ā€˜Mith Jac.ā€™ And Livyā€¦she tried so hard to be just like Emery at the basketball game. Sheā€™s too young to be on Emeryā€™s team, but sheā€™s so good they moved her up to a more challenging level. You could just see the pride and awe in her eyes that night. These girlsā€¦they arenā€™t just victims or witnessesā€¦ā€

ā€œTheyā€™re people we care about. I know. For every moment, I know. And it hurts.ā€ Max reached out and wrapped one hand around hers. ā€œWeā€™ll make sure they are ok. Not forgotten. No matter what we find before this is finished.ā€

ā€œWeā€™ll take care of themā€”for Rachel. And for everyone out there that loves them.ā€

Max just hoped they could keep that promise.

50

ā€œSo what do we know about Deborah Miller, Debbie?ā€ Jac asked as Max drove through the small town an hour northwest of St. Louis where Rachel had grown up.

It was just a small town with around five hundred people. Most commuted into the city. It was surrounded by fields and forest. Most of the houses had probably been built somewhere between the 1920s and the 1960s. They probably cost a fourth of what those in the Sturvinsā€™ neighborhood had. But there was a warmth that was hard to miss.

There were flyers for a community Thanksgiving hung up where they could read them.

They found the church. The Hope Life Church near the western boundary of the small town stood out, a metal building with a bright gold steeple standing almost garish on top. It was the largest building in the town. The newest.

It stood out of place like a turtle in the midst of a pack of puppies.

ā€œHope Life?ā€ Jac looked at Max as something jogged her memory. ā€œWasnā€™t that the name of the churchā€”ā€

ā€œThe case we worked with the Chalmerses in Evalyn, Nebraska. Yeah, same denomination. They range from Canada all the way down to Brownsville, Texas. And are starting to expand west toward Utah and Nevada. Itā€™s a growing movement.ā€

ā€œGreat. Hopefully, this branch will be different than the last.ā€ Jac hadnā€™t forgotten that case either. Some of her friends had had a personal involvement in what had happened. That case had left an indelible mark on quite a few members of PAVAD.

ā€œItā€™s a growing denomination in the country. Most are above board. I think it was just the one in Evalyn that was corrupt.ā€

ā€œIā€™ll take your word for it. But just in case, if it comes down to it, you and I, Dr. Jones, weā€™ve been married for ten years and have six kids, with another on the way in about seven months, ok? And you are really, really mean and possessive. Just flex the muscles and growl for me. You know how to do it.ā€

She startled a laugh out of him. She used to always love to make him laugh. To tease. He was the only man she had ever teased with. Jac had seriously missed that.

ā€œIā€™ll remember that.ā€

ā€œThanks.ā€

ā€œI always have your back.ā€

Jac just stared at him as everything that had happened between them threatened to rise up and choke her again.

She loved him. And probably always would.

But nothing would ever come of that.

She had gotten used to that idea weeks ago.

Max shouldnā€™t have said that. They both knew that he hadnā€™t had her back two months ago. Heā€™d panicked, and heā€™d overreacted. Publicly.

Heā€™d gone over every second of what had happened, looking for hints of why the kiss had impacted him that strongly.

He still hadnā€™t figured that out. Other than it had signaled a massive change in their relationship that he had been unprepared to deal with right then.

Sheā€™d been arguing with him.

Jac avoided arguments whenever possible. Jac rarely raised her voice. She rarely disagreed with people. If it was something she didnā€™t believe in, she just quietly did her own thing anyway. It once drove him mad until he figured out why she was that way. Until sheā€™d revealed more about her childhood.

She did what she wanted for one simple reasonā€”sheā€™d always had only herself to guide her way through life from a very early age. And sheā€™d dragged her younger sister along right behind her.

Child abuse had a lifelong impact. Heā€™d learned that with his ex, and what it had done to her.

He had always wanted Jac to talk to him. That wasnā€™t her way; she had always internalized everything.

Theyā€™d been arguing in Arkansas that day in her hotel room. Her cheeks had been flushed, her eyes shooting green fire at him.

Before he had realized he had moved, Max had cupped her cheeks. Brushed his thumb over those soft, pink lips. Just trying to stop her angry words.

Heā€™d had enough of angry words that day.

Max had just wanted the arguments to stop. Heā€™d wanted to celebrate finding their friends safe when heā€™d been completely convinced that they would only find bodies. The last thing heā€™d wanted to do was argue with Jac.

Not Jac.

And then his lips had been on hers.

That was all it had taken for his world to shift sideways.

Kissing Jac.

Kissing Jac had changed everything.

He wanted to do it again.

He wanted to do it again and again and again. And had since that night. That was part of his problem.

He wanted Jac in his bed, in his arms, and in his life. Period.

It was his inner caveman wanting to claim the woman he wanted. As his

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