Chapter 9
The National Park Service Investigative Services Branch took over any potential homicides that occurred on federal land—standard procedure.
Noah had been waiting for Dark Canyon PD to transfer Jane Doe’s case for a week now, but they’d taken their sweet time getting around to it, waffling about whether they had enough evidence to call it a potential homicide.
Like there was some remote chance she’d ended up dead in Peavine Canyon by accident.
But only because it took him an extra four minutes to feed Dancer, or he would have been even earlier.
The scent of industrial cleaner and public service coffee hit his nose as he strode through the building. Smelled like old times, when he lived in places like this, begging for someone with a hot tip to give him five minutes.
This time, he had the best leg up possible.
His brother’s office door stood open. The man himself sat at his desk, tapping at his keyboard as he stared at the screen.
Noah crossed his arms and leaned on the door. “Never expected to see you end up as a desk jockey.”
Jacob glanced up, his expression shifting from focused to resigned. “That’s Agent Desk Jockey to you. I wondered how long it would take you to show up.”
“Longer than it should have since I had to hear from Misty at DCPD that they’d lobbed you the ball.” Noah collapsed into the visitor’s chair, ignoring his brother’s eye-roll.
“Leaning on your high school girlfriend for info? That’s pathetic, even for you.” Jacob pointedly stared at his screen as if Noah had interrupted a critical task.
“It would have been old news if you’d been the one to tell me.”
That earned him a glance from his brother. “Now, why would I have done that, pray tell? Do you have information regarding this case that the agent assigned to investigate should be aware of?”
“Well, now. That’s a great question.” Noah eased back in his chair and crossed his arms with a grin designed to get under Jacob’s skin. “How would I know what you are and aren’t aware of if you won’t talk to me about the case?”
Jacob’s mouth flattened.
This was an old comfortable routine that they fell into after five seconds in each other’s company—Jacob playing the part of the big brother who followed all the rules, living his life on the straight and narrow and having zero chill, while Noah poked at him with varying results.
It was fun. For Noah. Jacob, on the other hand, usually ended up looking like he did in this exact moment, as if he wanted to punch a wall. Or his brother.
Maybe they could save that for another day when Noah didn’t need to be on Jacob’s good side.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, peace. I’m sure you already read the report. Me and Dancer got the call on your Jane Doe. So, really, I’m here to help you. Anything you want to know about the scene, I’m your guy.”
The look his brother gave him said he didn’t believe Noah’s capitulation one bit. “Is there something missing from your official report?”
“No,” he replied honestly. “It’s accurate. But that doesn’t mean we can’t shoot the breeze and maybe stumble over something that would be of value to you. Like my insight honed from years of investigative reporting.”
“And there we have it, folks.” Jacob shook his head, but he didn’t look as perturbed as his tone suggested. “You want to write a piece on her.”
All at once, Noah had a flash of unease. This was his brother. They had few secrets from each other, had gone through their mother’s death together, a difficult season that would break a lot of people. To say they were close would be an understatement.
And Noah wanted his brother to bless the idea of him jumping back into investigative reporting. So far, it didn’t feel as much like the slam-dunk collaboration he’d expected.
“Is that so terrible?” he mumbled, struck all at once that Jacob might not be that thrilled with the idea.
Writing stories had pulled Noah away from Dark Canyon once and would likely do it again. Would his brother hate losing the close ties their family had created once Noah had returned?
Jacob tipped his head. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing to have someone with your skills looking into this.”
Hope flared in Noah’s chest even as the compliment pleased him. “So there is something to look into.”
“There’s always something to look into.” Jacob rubbed his temples. “What brought all this on? I thought you were happy with search and rescue?”
“I am,” he interjected quickly. “I love it. Love making a difference. Dancer is more than a dog, he’s my buddy. This is not a quest to give up the life I’ve built here.”
But wasn’t it? He’d been dreaming of chasing leads again, of scouring social media for tips on hot spots, hopping a plane to Syria, Myanmar, the Philippines—wherever he could find signs pointing to human rights violations, the effects of environmental disasters, or civil war, because those made the most impactful stories.
Noah rubbed at his eyes and sighed. “Let me start over. I got a SAR call, only the victim was already deceased. We found our Jane Doe and the excavation team pulled her out. The officer who called it in had this way about her, I can’t explain it.
But she was adamant that there was something off about the scene, convinced the victim had been dumped there.
It got my senses humming. The fact that you’ve got the case now says my instincts—and Officer West’s—aren’t off base. ”
For whatever reason, his brother’s gaze had equal parts interest and evaluation as he zeroed in on Noah. “Officer West, huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Jacob smirked. “I know that look. What kind of way did Sabrina have about her?”
His rib cage got tight and did a thing that felt like a Roman candle had gone off in his chest. Was he that transparent? “I forgot you knew each other. Yeah, I met her and she’s amazing. Why wouldn’t I notice that?”
“Uh-huh.”
What was this all about? Noah shifted in his chair, crossing his arms again, which did not make him more comfortable. “We went on a date. Is that what you were fishing for? I like her. Is this really what you want to talk about when we have a Jane D—”
“Be careful, Noah,” his brother interjected quietly. “You have a tendency to make a fool of yourself over a woman. I like Sabrina too. But you have to see how this is going to end.”
“Happily?” he threw out, because come on. No one had a crystal ball. Was there something wrong with hope? With thinking positive and assuming the best possible outcome of a relationship instead of the worst?
“It’s going to end with a jagged scar where your heart used to be,” his brother said flatly.
Noah scowled, fingering the area in question as if he could already feel the phantom beating. “Are you sure this isn’t more about you than me?”
His brother cracked his neck and rubbed at it as if Noah might be causing him pain. “Don’t be obtuse when I’m trying to look out for you. You have a tendency to take a flying leap into everything, and I’m just saying maybe check the water before you do a cannonball.”
The genuine concern in Jacob’s voice deflated some of his bluster. Because yeah, that was not wrong.
But still, Noah wasn’t a teenager anymore, mooning around over a succession of girls in his class. That was the last time his brother had witnessed Noah’s feelings splattered all over the floor when said girls inevitably shoved off—some with a great deal of drama.
No, he hadn’t gotten any better at protecting himself, but so what? What was the point of life but to experience it? Highs and lows.
“What if I have checked the water and Sabrina seems on board with cannonballs?” he asked with only a tiny curl of smugness to his smile. “We talked for hours last night.”
The wedding joke sat fresh on his mind. A woman didn’t laugh at a subject she had a fundamental aversion to, right?
“Great. I hope it works out, I really do. I’ll repeat, I like Sabrina.” There was a qualifier coming, no doubt. “She does her job well and she’s generally considered competent. But you have to know she has a…reputation.”
“Watch it.” Noah was half out of his seat in Sabrina’s defense before Jacob could throw his hands up in protest.
“Not that kind of reputation. The opposite. She eats men for breakfast and stomps their bones into dust on her way out the door. You don’t mess with her.
Everyone knows that.” His brother ran a hand through his hair, but it didn’t settle the simmer in Noah’s blood that this was the conversation they were having.
“Some of the guys call her Mantis. You know, because the females eat the males?”
“I know what you meant,” Noah said. Spit out, more like, and if he could have punctuated the phrase with a shiv, he would have.
“And that’s about the biggest load of horse manure I’ve ever heard you repeat.
You know better than that. She’s a living, breathing human being who has to fight for her place in her chosen profession every day.
Anyone who wants to take a shot at her methods can come talk to me. ”
Jacob managed to look slightly chagrined. “I don’t disagree that sometimes people exaggerate, and obviously, I’ve never had a problem with her. All I’m saying is be careful. Make sure you’re on the same page before you offer up your heart still beating. Just in case there’s a tiny smidge of truth.”
As if. Sabrina was warm, engaging. Sexy. A fabulous kisser. And she had brains for miles. Her text messages amused him. Her strength inspired him. And sure, they hadn’t known each other that long, but he did not get a praying-mantis vibe from her. At all.
Toward Bonner, yes. She’d sever his head in a New York second and feed it to him if he so much as looked at her wrong, but after seeing the tool in action, Noah would not only help her dismember Bonner, he’d volunteer to drive there and back.
Sabrina and Noah, on the other hand, had a connection.