Page 16

Special Agent Jack Stone

The diner is buzzing tonight as Fallon and I sit across from Jet on our way to garnering some piping hot apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The stuff of dreams.

Bea steps aside, revealing a blonde with dark roots near the scalp, light eyes, and cut features. She looks harmless enough, save for the hardened expression she’s trying to sell us. I’m not buying it. She seems friendly to a fault.

“Riley,” Fallon says in a tone that’s a touch more cheerful than I’m used to. “This is Special Agent Jack Stone and his brother, Jet. Gentlemen, this is my sweet sister.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jet and I chime together like a couple of morons and I shake my head at the woman. “Please, join us. You, too, Bea.”

“I’ve got a diner to run,” Bea says, pulling a pen from her hair. “Apple pie a la mode all around,” she shouts as she takes off.

Riley lands next to Jet and pats the space between the two of them for Buddy to hop up and he does just that.

“I can’t believe I get to meet you.” She wrinkles her nose my way and the excitement is practically bubbling from her. “Fallon worked up in Reno for a while,” she says to Jet. “I never got to meet any of her coworkers there.”

“Speaking of coworkers, where are yours?” Fallon asks before glancing at Jet then to me. “My sister and her boyfriend own a clean-up business called Pick-it-Clean.”

Riley frowns as she casts a dark glance out the window, and suddenly I’m fearing for the boyfriend. That look can’t bode well. I should know, I’ve seen my fair share of women give it.

“I don’t know where Ryan is,” she says with an edge to her voice. She forces a smile as she looks my way. “I have a small pool of employees that I can call anytime to help with a job.” She looks to Jet. “Mostly we clean out houses after estate sales, or if someone passes away from whatever. Usually, the surviving family goes in and takes what they want and leaves the rest to my crew and me. Believe me, we can pick a place clean in just under a couple of hours.”

“That’s why they pay you the big bucks,” Fallon teases. “Hey”—she looks my way and pauses—“I bet Vanessa could use her services. Although under the circumstances, I wouldn’t dare so much as pass her a business card.” She offers her sister a forlorn smile. “Vanessa Copeland was one of three women that was shot earlier this week while the realtor was showing her mother’s house. And the perpetrator ended up kidnapping the realtor.”

Jet nods. “Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Who are you talking to?” I ask, suddenly alarmed. I thought he never left the cabin, and suddenly he’s got a budding career and a social life.

“He’s right.” Riley shrugs. “I’ve heard people talking about that and the woman who was knifed in her own home, Relatable Robin.” She shudders. “Another one of your cases, I’m presuming?”

Fallon nods. “Stone and I were just going to deep-dive into it.”

“Don’t let us stop you.” Riley’s eyes grow twice their size. “I’ve always wanted to take part in an FBI sting operation.”

“It’s not a sting operation,” I tell her.

“And we’re not sharing anything with either of you,” Fallon tells them.

Jet chuckles. “She’s mean, good-looking, and she packs heat? The woman is a triple threat.”

“Thank you,” Fallon says with a serpentine smile just as a waitress delivers us each a slice of warm apple pie with a couple of generous scoops of vanilla ice cream gliding right off the top and forming a puddle of everything I’ve been craving.

We dive right in, and there are a good few minutes of silence as we pay homage to this fresh from the oven perfection.

“Before I forget”—Riley lifts her fork—“if you talk to Vanessa again, please tell her I’ll do a clean out for free. The poor woman was shot and there was a kidnapping on the property? I think she has enough going on as it is.” She winks over at Jet. “I like to do a little pro bono work now and again.”

“If you need a hand, I’ve got two,” he says, holding up his mitts.

“No,” I growl his way for even thinking of it.

“Thanks,” Riley tells him. “I could use all the help I can get on some of these places.”

“I’m working for your mom now,” he says with a touch of pride and I don’t have the heart to shoot him down. Not even playfully. “I’m still working on getting a phone, but I’ll be here Thursday through Sunday.”

“Great.” Riley nods to Fallon. “If Vanessa needs me, tell her Monday through Wednesday works good for me.”

I can’t help but frown at how quickly everyone is so eager to hire my brother.

Honestly? I’m not sure what to make of it.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to her again,” I say. “I’ll let her know you threw out the offer. I’m sure she’ll appreciate it if she hasn’t tackled the job already.” I turn to Fallon. “And for the record, I didn’t date Nessa.”

“Now’s your chance to round things out,” she teases.

As it turns out, Fallon and I don’t get any work done. I save some of my pie for Buddy since I promised him dessert and soon we’re wrapping it up.

“All right, Jet.” I tick my head toward the door. “I think we’re going to call it. Fallon and I have had a long day.”

And seeing that we didn’t get any work done here, we’ll probably have a long night combing through Robin’s social media accounts once again. Separately, of course.

Riley blinks his way. “I can give you a ride home when you’re ready.”

I’m about to protest or point out that he’s done with his pie, but Fallon lifts her shoulders my way so I don’t say a word.

Instead, we say goodnight and duck out.

“Looks as if my brother has half of your family under his spell,” I say as Buddy hops into the back seat of my truck.

“I like him, too,” she counters. “So that spell must be pretty powerful. I think you’re just jealous of all the attention he’s getting.”

“I guess I should be cheering on the job offers,” I say as I land behind the wheel and start up the engine. “How about we see if we can track down those sisters tomorrow?”

“Already on it,” Fallon says. “One is still at Aspen Heights Memorial. I called and asked if we could meet with them at eleven in the morning and they agreed.”

“An hour before lunch, I like how you think,” I say as we head for Whispering Woods.

“You think about food all day, not me,” she says just as Buddy barks from the back. “Okay, you do, too. You’re both food-obsessed. How about we get obsessed about bringing Brittney Walker home? We’re just about to skate past the forty-eight-hour mark.”

I groan just hearing it. “I know,” I whisper.

Victims are less likely to be found alive as time progresses.

We’ve just crested the golden hours, and now we’re staring straight into the heart of the abyss.

I shake my head. “We had better hope those sisters have something critical to say that can crack this case wide open.”

“I looked at the sheriff’s report,” Fallon says, unblinking into the dark road ahead of us. “They don’t.”

“We’ll make them.” My fingers flex over the steering wheel. “Someone out there knows something.” A thought occurs to me. “I want to revisit forensics. I want those bloody shoeprints at the Hanson house juxtaposed to every print found at the kidnapping scene.”

“Those bloody shoeprints were smudged every which way, remember?”

“I do. It’s time to rule in or rule out if we’re hunting down one suspect, two, or an entire team of them.”

“If whoever killed Robin is the same person that kidnapped Brittney, they must think they’re pretty good.”

“Maybe so, but we’re better,” I say.

Buddy gives a sharp bark as if he agrees.

Now it’s time to prove it.