Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Carol Ericson (beginner reading books for adults .txt) 📗

“Better ask your mom,” Justin said and Lily went racing out of the room. “Careful!” Justin called after her.

“We’ll continue to be in touch,” Jax said, shaking the man’s hand as he stood. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ll keep you updated about the progress. And you can call me if you have questions.”

“I appreciate it.” A genuine smile lit Justin’s face as his daughter screeched from the other room, “Mommy said yes!”

“Good luck,” Jax said, then turned to his dog, who was staring in the direction Lily had disappeared. “Come on, Patches.”

She followed him out the door and Jax felt his own smile break free. He was helping these victims. Slowly, but surely, they were all starting to move forward. Some were taking smaller steps than others and some had much harder journeys, but they’d all get there.

It was why he’d made the jump to the FBI. He was good at this. Maybe Ben and Anderson were right. Maybe he needed to stick to what he knew best, his own job.

As much as he wanted to help Keara, as much as he wanted to be more directly involved in stopping the person responsible, everything that was emerging from the FBI investigation suggested his and Keara’s theories were off base.

There were no other bombs with the symbol. It was possible, though unlikely, that this was the only time the bomber had used the symbol. A bit more likely was that it had only been recovered in this particular bomb. But when Jax had floated that idea with Ben, the agent had seemed unconvinced. More likely, this guy was solely a bomber and the murder in Texas was unrelated. It was what Ben and Anderson believed. They even questioned if the symbols really matched. The loops were so random, they wondered if it was just coincidence, and that Keara, desperate to find connections to the old murders, was seeing what she wanted to see.

And yet...Jax couldn’t shake the feeling he’d had when he’d first seen that symbol, the certainty that it meant something. He couldn’t shake the memory of Keara’s eyes widening, the way she’d swayed and gone pale, when she’d seen it.

Once he and Patches climbed into his SUV, Jax didn’t bother to start the engine. Instead, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Ben.

“Ben Nez,” the agent answered. Even over the phone, he sounded commanding, the tone of someone who’d been an agent for a long time and was comfortable being in control.

“It’s Jax. I’m just leaving one of the victim’s houses and I have a question.”

“A question or information on the case?” Ben asked, a warning tone in his voice, like he knew what was coming.

Ignoring it, Jax pushed forward. He could take the snide comments about being a wannabe agent. What he couldn’t take was worrying that he’d kept quiet when speaking up might have made a difference. “I’m just wondering if we have any more details on the bomb. You’ve got a lot of experience with weapons like this. Does it seem like it’s the work of someone who’s been doing it a long time? Do you think whoever did this has made bombs before?”

A heavy sigh, meant to be heard, greeted him, followed by a long silence.

Finally, Jax broke it. “This isn’t idle curiosity. What do you think?”

“It’s hard to say,” Ben said, his tone cautious. “The bomb itself wasn’t very sophisticated. You can learn how to make something like this on the internet if you know where to look. But the fact that no one noticed anything unusual, that we don’t have any cameras that caught anything suspicious, suggests this guy isn’t an amateur. Plus, we’ve been looking hard for a motive, since the most likely reason to target this location is to take out a specific person. So far we haven’t come up with anything promising.”

“So—”

“You’re a great Victim Specialist, Jax,” Ben said, cutting him off. “And if there’s information you’re getting from the victims that could help us figure this out, I want to hear it. If you’re asking about this because it’s going to somehow help you in your role, then fine. But being an investigator isn’t something you do off the side of your desk, no matter what you might have seen on TV.”

Jax stiffened. He’d worked side by side with Special Agents and other members of the FBI for four years. He understood all too well how many people—agents, evidence technicians, victim specialists, analysts and more—came together to solve a crime.

“I know I’m not an agent,” Jax said, wishing the words didn’t feel just a little bit bitter. “And I’m not trying to be one.” That much was true. Despite the burnout he was feeling, despite the desire to be more embedded in the investigative side of things, he did love his job. “But this case is different. This case—”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve stepped outside your lines,” Ben contradicted. “I don’t know if this is how things ran when you were on the Rapid Deployment Team...”

“Not really,” Jax admitted. Yes, he’d shared his insights when he could, but he’d often worked with big task forces. And his time at a particular crime scene had been very focused.

Alaska was different. The field office was big, but so was the area they covered. When he’d had psychological insight into a case, the agents had listened. To be fair, that had always included Ben.

Maybe he was stepping over the line with this case. Thinking of his clandestine meeting with Keara just that afternoon, Jax mentally crossed off the maybe.

“I’m sorry,” Jax said. “You’re right. It’s just that the symbol is really bothering me in this case.”

“We’re looking into it,” Ben said, but his tone told Jax the truth.

They’d already decided it wasn’t important.

“I’m not an agent,” Jax said again, sitting up straighter and making Patches stick her nose between the seats.

Absently petting her, Jax insisted, “And I’m not a profiler, either. But my background is in psychology. That