Page 72

“I mean, a kid is missing, I see zero police cars, zero urgency, and zero police work.” I listed the lack of action on my fingers.

His body stiffened, and his eyes widened as he stared at me in both shock and obvious fury. “My officers are out looking for Jackson in both the north and west woods, taking statements from his friends, teachers, aunts, and uncles. We have scoured the house for any and all physical evidence, and ruled out both of the parents as suspects.”

I raised a brow, not letting myself feel chastised for coming at him so hard. It still didn’t explain the lack of police presence. “So quickly? Parents are often the perpetrators.”

I didn’t believe for a second that these parents had anything to do with the boy’s disappearance, even if I didn’t strongly suspect a supernatural entity as being responsible.

But unfortunately, those were the facts that no one wanted to hear. We liked to create fear of men in white vans, pedophiles, serial killers, teaching children to be afraid of strangers when it was the ones who were supposed to keep them safe that statistically hurt them most often.

Why I was saying this to Colton was anyone’s guess. Maybe I wanted to rile him up because I was annoyed at him, at what on the surface seemed like a shitty superficial investigation.

“Jenny and Steve tried for three years to have Jackson,” he bit out. “Multiple miscarriages. IVF, they poured every penny and then some into bringing him earthside. They both work two jobs and make it to every baseball game, every music recital of his.” His eyes glowed with fury, his posture tight with rage. I didn’t miss the worry in his gaze, the real fear he obviously felt.

“They didn’t hurt that boy. And he sure as shit didn’t run away.” His words came out in a spray of livid barbs. “Make no mistake, I’m going to bring their son back to them, and fuck if I’ll let you insinuate that I’m not doing my job right when you haven’t known me for over thirteen years.”

I steeled myself against the clean, crisp smell of Colton’s aftershave.

“Wow, score.” Dante clapped his hands together.

“Shut the fuck up, Dante,” I snarled.

Colton invaded my personal space, standing much closer than was comfortable, his ire palpable and not at all sexy.

Was I in heat or something?

“So I will repeat my earlier question… What, are you, a civilian, doing interfering in a criminal investigation?” He was seething. If we were in a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of his ears.

This was more my speed, a cop being mad at a perceived miscreant. “None of your business,” I replied sweetly.

“I’m the fucking Chief Deputy, so it’s my business, especially since I have the power to arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

I doubted Colton would really arrest me, but his outrage was explosive trauma, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it. I’d found his trigger points, and then there was probably the boatload of repressed anger and resentment he’d been feeling toward me.

There was nothing more unpredictable than a pissed-off man. And then there was my instinct to push the aforementioned pissed-off man further.

“She was consulting for me.” Dante spoke up before I could test out whether Colton was willing to arrest me.

“What could Hadley have to offer this investigation?” Colton tossed up his hands, not even looking at Dante.

“Charm. Good looks,” I chirped.

“And what in the fuck is the FBI doing on this case?” he directed his ire at Dante, finally peeling his gaze off me.

“Just trying to lend a hand.” Dante’s posture was relaxed, tone casual, but there was a tightness in his jaw.

“Well don’t,” Colton shot. “I’ve got it handled.”

“Of course you do,” Dante drawled. “In that case, how about we go for a drink, Harris?”

I kept staring at Colton, raring for a fight and maybe a little turned on. I didn’t miss the slight curl of his lips at Dante’s question.

It was eating Colton alive, the familiarity Dante and I had, even if it was ripe with aggression on my side.

I didn’t quite relish that, but right then, I was mad enough to be satisfied.

“Sure, we’ll have a drink. Then I’ll get back to my job—getting rid of things that need to die,” I said not so subtly.

I spun toward my car.