Page 13 of The Making of Marnie Jones

Ah, something he had an answer for. “I have Lydia’s birth certificate and photos of her from when she was younger. There are pictures of the two of us. If I could find Lydia, then I could prove all this to you, but my sister seems to have pulled a rabbit.”

“Rabbit?” A soft brow furrowed.

“Yes, you know, running at the first sign of trouble? A few days ago, I asked Wolf to track her down. As I told you, they arrested Lydia and, while she waited for a bail hearing, Olivia showed up to the police station, claiming they were her drugs. When the police didn’t believe her, she lit out of there. Twelve hours later, they released Lydia on bail.”

“Who posted her bail?”

His mouth went dry. and sweat trickled down his back.

“Oh, Jake. Why?”

He fought defensiveness, because she only asked the question he’d put to himself a million times since making that decision. “She’s my sister. I believed maybethistime would wake her up, and she’d agree to get treatment. One of her bail conditions was she go to rehab, but she never showed up, and no one has seen her. My friend on the police force told me the entire story, and suggested I track down Olivia since she was clearly disturbed. I searched for her for several days, but I had neither the resources nor the skills. I called Wolf and asked for his help.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, and gritted his teeth. “You know the rest of the story, and again, I’m asking for your help.”

“Last night, I reviewed the news reports from when Lydia was recovered.” Her hands were on her hips and her chin jutted out. “I read over every story I found about Olivia and, surprise, surprise, they never mentioned your name.”

“There’s a reason for that.”Turn this around. “I didn’t want to be part of the story. I let my sister parade my niece around in front of all those reporters and held my tongue. Was that a mistake? You bet.” He didn’t try to hide his anguish. “My colleagues made the connection but respected my desire not to be associated with the story. I’m not famous or anything, but I was afraid it’d bring even more sensationalism to the whole sordid affair. I believed if I stayed away until the furor died down, then everything would be okay. By then, it was too late.”

Her brow furrowed. “Too late for what?”

“To have some influence on the situation.”

She tilted her head, brows raised. “How often do you see Olivia?”

He cringed. “I’ve only seen her twice. Once after she was recovered, and once when I convinced Lydia to bring her for a visit.”

“When was that last time?”

“Eight months ago.” His chest tightened as it did every time he thought about how he’d let so much time go past.

Her expression was less judgmental than he expected.

“No visits since?”

“I invite them at least once a month, but Lydia always has an excuse. I should’ve insisted.” The whole situation was embarrassing, but at least she no longer seemed angry with him. He took a breath, relaxing his shoulders. “Look, this is all well and good, but it’s also your lunch break, and you need to eat.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I need.” Her voice again notched up, color rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. “I’m still angry at you for the deception.”

Okay, maybe he’d been a little quick to assume the antagonism had drawn to a close. He was about to speak when someone moved toward them. Several inches taller than himself, the man was darker than Jake. Nearly black hair above dark-brown eyes that scrutinized him. The man turned to Marnie.

“Miss Jones, nice to see you again.”

“Please, Colton, it’s Marnie.” Exasperation tinged her voice.

Ah, not the first time she’d corrected him.

She put herself between Jake and the new arrival.

The two men towering over her sized each other up, trading appraisals over her head.

Colton was clearly a man who kept himself in good shape—muscular but not bulky. Jake gave himself even odds in a fight. Not that he was planning for a fight…more like itching for one. He’d been looking for a physical outlet for his frustration for weeks now and this guy’s attitude was clear. Cocky, like Seth the RCMP officer.

The staredown continued for several nerve-shattering moments before Marnie finally spoke. “Colton Pritchard, this is Jake McGrath. Jake, this is Constable Colton Pritchard.”

Great, another cop.

“Corporal,” Pritchard corrected. “They promoted me when I moved to sex crimes.”

Sex crimes?Was that how Marnie knew the man? Jake was freefalling, unable and unwilling to contemplate the possibilities. Had something else happened to her? Something since she had moved here?

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