Page 10 of Missing Justice

An older, petite woman in a maid’s uniform barely glanced at their IDs before stepping back. “Señor and Mrs. Jarvis are expecting you in the library.”

“I knew it.” Taylor shot Meredith a look. “Someone tipped them off we were coming.”

As she stepped across the threshold, the SAC murmured, “The senator has friends inside the Bureau. Tread lightly.”

Taylor called bullshit. That little tip-off had cost her the element of surprise. “I’m going to the director about this.”

Meredith gave her a knowing look that said the director wasn’t going to care. The maid closed the door. “Follow me, please.”

The house’s interior matched the exterior. Wood floors, elaborate staircase, pretty antique chandelier in the entryway.

As they followed the maid to the library, Taylor tugged on Meredith’s sleeve. “If you have a chance to get the wife away from Walt,” she said under her breath, “I’d like to question him alone.”

Mer nodded at the divide and conquer request.

Innocent until proven guilty, Taylor reminded herself as they continued down a long hall. Regardless of what her gut said, she had to believe in the system and do her job. She was about to tell a man that his first wife and unborn child were most likely killed and left to rot in a scrapyard. Even as callous as she’d become over the years from having to deal with kidnappers, rapists, and murderers, the horrible reality made her sick to her stomach. Telling a family member news like this was the worst part of her job, even when it brought closure.

The maid stopped in front of double French doors and opened them, ushering Meredith and Taylor inside. “The FBI are here,” was the only introduction.

Cozy, with the typical dark woods, plush carpeting, and heavy drapes that stuffy rich people in DC liked. A man at one of the far windows turned and a willowy blonde thanked the maid from a couch near the fireplace, dismissing her.

The second Mrs. Jarvis uncrossed her legs and made her way across the room to shake Meredith’s, then Taylor’s hand. “Ann,” she said. She motioned toward the senator making his way over. “And I’m sure you’re familiar with my husband, Walt.”

Senator Jarvis came up beside his wife and shook their hands as Meredith introduced them. “Meredith Sardana, Director of Missing Persons, and this is my lead investigator of cold cases, Taylor Sinclair.”

Walt’s shake was firm and he gave Taylor a brief, sad smile. He was older than Ann, handsome. “I understand you have news.”

“Shall we sit?” Taylor said, motioning them to the couch.

Walt and Ann sat side by side, Ann taking one of the senator’s hands and holding it between both of hers.

“Is it Felicity?” he asked. “Did you find her?”

“Senator,” a familiar voice said. “I’d be very careful what you say without a lawyer present.”

Taylor whirled and her stomach dropped.

You’ve got to be kidding.

What the hell washedoing here?

* * *

Matt stood in the doorway staring at the woman he’d only hours before stripped naked and licked parts of her his mother would slap him for. At least when his mother was sober.

He’d take that slap and a dozen others if it meant another spin—or twenty—with Taylor Sinclair.

Even if she was a federal agent. And a damned good one to boot.

Something Matt had never achieved. The failure to be accepted into Quantico still stung, but he wasn’t one to wallow in the nastiness. Still, he couldn’t deny the shot of envy over Taylor’s success.

Or the irritation he still felt over her earlier boundary-setting lecture.

“Hello, Agent Sinclair,” he said. “Interesting coincidence seeing you here.”

Not one to be intimidated—atta, girl—she lifted her chin.

“Yes,” she said. “Imagine that.”