Jamie studied the calendar on her office computer, tapping her sandaled toe to the soft classical music from her speakers. Two more days. Then she was out of here for a week. Last night she’d painted a dozen paint samples on the bedroom walls, unable to sit still, trying to put all thoughts of the sad crime scene out of her head. She flipped open the color chart from the paint store. How many shades of beige were there? Cappuccino, wheat, sand, Hawaiian sand…
Her gaze lingered on the dark greens. Forest green really would be great with her wood floors and throw rugs. She flipped the brochure closed and buried it in her inbox. Too many choices. Why did she suck when it came to these types of decisions? She had the same problem at Baskin-Robbins. She had to read every flavor and study the look of every ice cream twice before making a choice. And she always ended up with chocolate chip mint.
A throat cleared, and her gaze flew to the tall figure at her door. Her heart stopped.
“Jesus Christ.” She glared at Michael Brody leaning insolently against her doorframe. “How long have you been standing there?”
Emerald eyes sparked at her. “Long enough to tell you can’t decide on paint.” A slow smile widened his mouth, and Jamie drew a deep breath. He was tan and tall, and his legs and arms were solid, lean muscle mass. She blinked as she caught herself staring and jerked her gaze up to his face. And found herself staring again. His light-brown hair had sun-bleached highlights that her friends paid hundreds for. Not fair that a man should have eyes of that rich color and freaking long black lashes to set them off. Jamie thought of all the tubes of black mascara she’d bought over the years.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m still looking for your brother.” He strolled closer and stopped, studying her perfectly organized desktop.
Jamie stood. Michael was using his height, looming over her desk. He probably had lots of physical tricks to get answers out of his victims, er…interviewees.
“I don’t need to tell you where my brother is. He doesn’t like press and just wants to be left alone.”
Michael pressed his lips together and leaned forward with his palms on her desk. “How much does he remember?”
“None,” she snapped and took a step back to lean against her office windowsill.
“Have you talked to the police?”
“They called last night.”
“Callahan?”
Jamie straightened. He knew the detective? Or was he messing with her head? “Yes.”
“Have you heard from him today?” His eyes were green ice as they studied her intently.
She shook her head and felt her stomach painfully knot. “What’s happened?”
“How much therapy did your brother have after he came back?”
Jamie sucked in a breath. “Get out.”
“He was tortured, wasn’t he? He probably had nightmares for years.”
She simply stared. “Why are you doing this?”
Michael’s eyes softened, and she couldn’t look away. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to understand how your brother thinks. They’ve found a place they believe the children were held. There’s evidence of…Maybe seeing it could help your brother with some memory recall.”
What was in that place? What’d the police find? Oh, Chris…
“No. He shouldn’t see it. I won’t put him through that.” Chris’s screams rang in her head. How many times had she awakened to hear his screams in the middle of the night? His body had finally healed, but his mind…his mind was never the same. Her happy, joking older brother had never returned.
“Where is he?” Michael spoke evenly, drawing the words out.
“I’ll tell you the same as I told the police,” Jamie snapped back. “I have a phone number. I leave a message on a voice mail. Sometimes he calls me back or texts me, but the number is always blocked, so I know it’s probably not the number I leave the message at.”
“Did he come home when your parents died in the car accident?”
Jamie swallowed hard. “No. I don’t think so.”
Michael tensed in a way that reminded of her of a hunting bird spotting its prey. He jumped on her words. “Don’t think so? Was he here or not? How long ago was the accident? Two years?”
“Two and a half.” Tears smarted at the corners of her eyes.
“Was he here?”
“I didn’t see him.”
“But?” His eyes wouldn’t release hers.
“But I could tell someone had been in my parents’ home. Some photos were missing. And there was a sketch left on the counter.”
“A sketch? Like a drawing?”
Jamie nodded.
“You didn’t tell the police that someone had been in the home?”
“No one forced their way in. Someone had a key. The sketch told me it’d been Chris.”
“Why? What’d he draw?”
Jamie shrugged. The sketch was matted, framed, and on her bedroom wall. It wasn’t a big secret. “A mountain range. He did lots of drawing after he came back. Especially mountains or beaches. Part of his therapy…” Her voice trailed away.
“You didn’t see him at the funeral? He didn’t make contact with you?”
“I haven’t seen him since he left,” she whispered. A small crack widened in her heart.
“When did he leave town originally?”
“It’s been close to ten years.”
Surprise crossed his face. “You haven’t seen your brother in ten years?”
Jamie shook her head.
“What an ass.”
She jerked. “Don’t call him that. You don’t know what he’s been through.”
“You’ve been through a lot, too. Your parents died and your brother won’t even see you? Sounds selfish. Really selfish to me.”
“He…it was okay. I didn’t mind. I understood. He’d been through so much. I handled everything for their funeral.”
Michael was silent for two seconds, his gaze penetrating. “I bet you handled everything.”
Jamie lifted her chin. “I managed.”
He was silent for another ten seconds. Jamie could nearly hear the wheels and gears working in his brain.
“Why haven’t you seen him? Why does he hide from you?”
Jamie licked at her lips. “He likes to be alone. He doesn’t want people talking to him or staring at him. It’s always been that way. Ever since he came back. His face…his face wasn’t right. His jaw was broken…” Her voiced cracked. “And he had burn scars and cuts that never went away. Even with all his plastic surgery. He didn’t like people staring.”
“But he’s an adult now.”
“I don’t know if that matters. As soon as he finished high school, he left.”
“Your parents let him leave?”
“They didn’t try to stop him. They pretty much let him do whatever made him happy. He’d been through hell. He couldn’t tell us what, but at night—” Jamie closed her lips.
“Nightmares. Screams?”
She nodded.
“Do you think he’s still struggling with that?”
“I think he would come home if he wasn’t.” Jamie finally looked away from those green eyes. Why was she telling him this?
“Maybe it’d be good for him to face some of this. Put it in his past.”
“He did so much therapy. Physical and mental, emotional. But he wasn’t stupid.”
Michael blinked. “Of course not. I didn’t say that.”
“He was smart. Chris was the sharpest kid in school. Just because he got bad grades didn’t mean he was stupid. He could have gotten a scholarship to college—he was so smart. Or a scholarship for his art. His paintings are amazing! He always helped me with my homework because everything was a breeze for him. He was just bored.”
Michael stared at her. Her rant had obviously surprised him. He’d been working to pry answers from her, and now she was running off at the mouth. Jamie blinked hard. She wanted Michael to know how intelligent Chris was. She didn’t want him to think Chris was some psycho hermit in a hut, in the forest, planning to blow up buildings. Her brother wasn’t like that. He was good and sharp and couldn’t help it if he felt things very deeply. He needed to be away from crowds. He needed peace. Cities were too fast for him. He’d needed to live where he could move at his own pace, working where his talent was appreciated but not in an office with cubicles. Chris lived and breathed through computers. He freelanced. His clients never met him face-to-face. He only interacted with others through cyberspace.
Or so he’d told her.
Jamie didn’t know exactly what her brother did. They stuck to generalities when they talked. No specifics. She’d learned a long time ago not to ask questions.
“After I left yesterday, you made a phone call to Eastern Oregon. Is that where he is?” Michael asked.
Jamie stared and heat flushed her face, her spine straightening. How in the hell did he do that? “Isn’t that illegal?” she choked out, her words tripping. “How can you get away with that?” What else could this man find out about her? Or Chris?
Michael shrugged crossing his arms. “It’s my job.”
“I seriously doubt breaking the law is part of your job. That’s outrageous…snooping into other people’s private business. And my brother and I are not part of your job.”
He looked at the ceiling and blew out a deep breath. “No, you’re not. But I’ve been dealing with a missing brother for twenty years, and this is the first solid lead. I’m going to dig and rip at it until I’ve exhausted every bit of it.” He brought his gaze to hers, dark green eyes hard and cold as granite. “Excuse me for snooping, but right now I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
A missing brother. Understanding and guilt flooded through her. She’d always felt that part of Chris was still missing.
“I don’t know where he is,” Jamie said quietly. “If he’s in Eastern Oregon, this is the first I’ve heard about it.” She refused to be embarrassed that she knew so little about her brother. It was how Chris wanted it. He’d claimed it was for her own good.
Which made no sense at all.
Michael glanced at his watch, and Jamie watched his tan arm muscles ripple as he twisted his wrist.
Christ.
She turned her back on him and looked out the window. Now she wouldn’t stare. She focused on the empty swings of the playground but lost concentration as she noticed in the window’s reflection that Michael was stepping closer. She whirled around, arms crossed, and he stopped.
His mouth turned up at one side. He’d known she was watching him even with her back turned. “I’m heading to the recovery site right now. Do you want to come?”
Jamie shuddered. “God, no. I don’t want to see where…”
All those children.
“I’ve got someone working on the source of that phone number. Hopefully, I’ll have a lead pretty soon. I’d like to narrow the field before I head over to Eastern Oregon.”
“You’re going to the other side of the state? A seven-hour drive?” The questions burst from her lips. Was he nuts? He’d never find her brother.
His forehead wrinkled. “Of course. How else I’m I going to talk to him? I wouldn’t mind some company for that trip. He’d probably be more open to a visit from me if you’re with me. Unless you can convince him to talk to me on the phone.”
Jamie shook her head. Chris deserved his privacy. “I also told the police I couldn’t convince him to talk to them.” She gave a harsh laugh. “I guess Chris knew what he was doing when he wouldn’t tell me where he was. I was completely useless to the police, and I didn’t even have to lie. He always said the lack of knowledge was for my own good.”
“What? What do you mean?” Michael had that “I see prey” gaze again. Jamie stared. Had his eyes actually grown darker?
“He always said it was for my own good that I didn’t know where to find him. I didn’t understand that explanation until just this second.”
Again, Jamie watched the gears churn behind those stunning eyes.
He broke the moment by glancing at his watch again. “I need to make some calls. I’ve got a line on a sheriff from the remote area where I think your brother is at. I’m outta here. Last chance to come.” He gave her a sly glance, letting heat infuse his gaze.
He was teasing her, trying to make her uncomfortable. Men.
She shook her head again. No question. That was the last place she wanted to be. Buckled into a seat next to Michael Brody in a car for seven hours.
“Fine.” He gave a wink. “Till later, then.” He turned and vanished out her door.
Jamie sat down hard in her chair, making it groan in protest. She sucked in a deep breath and was rewarded with the reporter’s toasted sunshine scent that made her brain spin and her stomach growl. The man was getting under her skin. She’d told him more about her brother than she’d told anyone else in the last ten years. It was those eyes, she mused. He obviously used some sort of Jedi mind-control skill with them to make her talk.
Must be nice to pack up and take off for where-the-hell-ever when his job called for it. She stewed for a few seconds, resenting her job and lack of wanderlust. She wasn’t the type to simply up and take a trip. Proper travel took planning and scheduling. Who takes off at the drop of a hat?
Michael Brody—steaming hot reporter and manipulative Jedi mind-bender—did.