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“What? On whose orders?”
Jake stared at the news teams still surrounding Dana’s house. “That’s the question.”
“Jake … I don’t have to go.”
“No, you’re our best shot at figuring out what’s going on here. And Hartwell’s right. If I go anywhere near this, it’ll only jeopardize your findings.”
“Jake, crime scenes are your thing. I’m much more comfortable analyzing after the fact.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Gray. You’re a damn good investigator. I wish I was gonna be out there with you, but you’ve got this.” His hand went reflexively to his hip, the foreign absence of his firearm unsettling. “You have your gun?”
She nodded.
“Good. I need to know you’ll use it if necessary.”
“Jake, is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No, but if I can’t be with you, I need to know you’ll protect yourself.”
She grinned. “I was taught by the best.”
He crossed the room. Stopping in front of Dana he pulled his dog tags from around his neck and pressed them into her hand.“Here.” He didn’t know what possessed him to do it. He wasn’t superstitious. Perhaps Dana’s beliefs were rubbing off on him, or maybe he just wanted to feel like a piece of him was with her.
“Jake, I’ll be fine.”
“I know,” he muttered, before pulling Dana into his arms, rules be damned. He dropped a kiss atop her head. “Be careful,” he warned, immediately annoyed at himself for being overbearing, but unable to stop himself, he added, “And if anything feels off, I mean anything, you call me immediately. I’ve got your back.”
Dana laid her hands against his chest, gazing up at him. “I know you do.”
Worry creased the space between her brow, but her gaze was determined, her lips tugging down at the corners. He could tell she was conflicted, fighting her own resolve not to kiss him. He pulled her closer, not doing a damn thing to help.
Dana tipped her chin up, her dark eyes drinking him in. But Claire’s blood-curdling scream ensured Jake would never know what side of conflict Dana had been aiming to settle on.
Jake rushed into the living room, Dana behind him.
Claire stood in front of the television, news footage of Hartwell’s crime scene filling the screen.
“You don’t need to see this,” Jake said, trying to take the remote from Claire, but she yanked it back.
“No, you don’t understand. I know him.”
“Max?” Dana asked, her voice full of apprehension.
Claire shook her head violently. “It’s Lincoln.”
50
Dana neared the police tape,wishing she’d be able to stay on this side of things. But Hartwell spotted her, immediately waving her over. She ducked under the yellow plastic tape delineating the crime scene in the parking lot of Montrose Park and joined Hartwell.
“Sorry it took me so long,” she apologized. “Getting clear of the news coverage at my house wasn’t easy.”
“I hope Shepard conveyed that wasn’t my doing.”
Dana nodded; her lips pressed together in concern. “We’ve got a bigger problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Your John Doe … Claire ID’d him.”
