Searching (PAVAD- FBI Romantic Suspense Book 18) by Calle Brookes (guided reading books txt) 📗

even there. “Those little girls have been missing for more than a day and a half. We don’t know how much longer this guy is going to keep himself together and not hurt them. We can’t just sit here.”

“Simple. We’ve been profiling Paul as this being his first event, but it’s not. If this is Philip, then he’s a serial killer. Which is an entirely different profile than a classic family annihilator,” Max answered. “And instead of looking at where Paul would go, we need to find out where Philip would go. Which means…property records. We need to narrow things down. As soon as we possibly can.”

“Because…” Jac bit back the bile. “Because if this isn’t the first time he’s killed his family, then there is even less to keep him from killing the girls the first moment they become inconvenient. He’ll kill them and just disappear—possibly to start all over again. It’s just a matter of time. We need to learn everything we can about Philip Sullivan.”

76

Todd knew they were getting closer to finding Paul Sturvin/Philip Sullivan. The guy had come across as a pansy to Todd, not a damned serial killer. But now they had him on suspicion of killing at least nine people.

That just pissed Todd off and made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. What kind of man targeted innocent kids and old people? The youngest girl killed in that fire had been three. Todd had a three-year-old niece of his own. If anyone ever did anything to hurt Esme, Todd would kill them. Without hesitation. He’d face the needle if it meant protecting Esme.

Todd hated when jackasses like Sturvin targeted kids. Kids were completely innocent. Adults were supposed to protect kids.

Not hurt them.

There was a little boy fussing on the couch not fifteen feet from where he stood. Before he realized it, Todd was straightening Jones’s coat over him and patting the tiny back until he settled deeper into his nap, just like he’d done Esme a hundred times by now.

He was just an innocent kid with a real bastard for a father.

That the ones who had made Todd that offer were also in bed with Sturvin sickened him. That was just wrong.

Todd wanted no part of that.

Combine that with how cold-blooded Lytel was, and Todd suspected he’d done a seriously dumbass thing getting anywhere near this.

He could think of nothing else for the next two hours after he returned to his loaner desk in the CCU bullpen. Todd was doing his damnedest to find people who had known Philip and Holly Sullivan six years ago. But a part of him was contemplating going to Ed Dennis and just confessing it all. Laying it bare.

It could end his career. But the only thing he had done yet had been carrying an envelope from a friend in Texas to a guy in St. Louis.

That it had been the same day Andrew Anderson had been killed could have damned well been coincidence. Something he had only learned since being in St. Louis now.

As far as he knew, the two things weren’t connected at all.

But Todd wasn’t stupid. In his gut he knew that they most certainly were connected.

That envelope could have been Todd paying Paul Sturvin to commit murder. But if he kept his earlier encounter with Sturvin secret during this case, that could look bad. Real bad.

Todd’s gut clenched as he thought about it.

There had to be a way to get himself out of this without destroying his entire life in the process.

Before he could stop himself, he sent a text to the director of PAVAD. As soon as this case was solved and those girls were safe, Todd was going to go to Dennis. Lay it all bare.

Whatever happened, happened.

Hell, if he lost his job—he still had his law degree. He’d go back to Texas, find a small town there in need of a good family attorney, and he’d build a practice. Build a real life.

Maybe find a woman who’d love him like Jaclyn loved Jones. Maybe make a few kids of his own. Finally make his mother happy, with more grandkids to cuddle.

Have an actual life outside of the FBI. Yeah, that was exactly what he’d do.

Todd was going to get himself a life.

77

The girls were sick. And they weren’t going to just get better because Paul demanded it. Paul fought the irritation.

Kids got sick all the time, especially kids of this age group. Ava was especially bad about remembering to wash her hands after using the restroom. It was just his bad luck that they had caught whatever cold Debbie and Rachel had had. He rested his hand on Ava’s forehead, feeling the fever burning through her tiny body. His gut wrenched in that particular way it did when a parent realized their worst nightmare could happen. That their child could be ill and they just couldn’t make them better by wishing illness away.

He had always hated it when she was unwell. She…was his star. His baby. She was the only child born to him since the tragic loss of his other three daughters. He loved Bentley more than he could ever say, but because of what he had done to Bentley’s mother and sisters, he had not felt right keeping the son he had loved so much. Bentley had his mother’s eyes; every time he’d looked at the little boy, he would see Holly.

The one woman who had ever truly loved him for him. For the man he’d been before. She’d stuck by him through everything. She had known him.

At first, he’d thought she was a poor comparison to Rachel, but now he knew. Rachel had been the poor substitute, because she had never known the real him.

That mattered. The one that you loved should know you.

He’d failed her and the children. Failed them all. Until they had almost lost everything they had been working toward. He hadn’t been able to face the disappointment in Holly’s eyes. The idea