Page 25 of Cold Case Discovery

She didn’t pull out of Jack’s grasp, but she did move in front of him and plant her feet so he couldn’t keep ushering her out. “Don’t do that, Jack. Not alone. Not...” She couldn’t articulate how little she wanted Jack wading through this. “He did this kind of thing. It’s not—”

“Someone was sneaking around your place, willing to shoot at an officer. There are dead bodies buried on a ranch with your name on the deed. A mutilated snake was purposefully left on your porch. All in the span of forty-eight hours. We need to look into everything. No matter how off the wall it feels. No matter how little you want to.”

“You think he did it. Murdered your parents. Buried them on his ranch. You think this is a clue, but—”

“Youthink he did it, Chloe,” Jack said gently, and the grasp on her arm softened, his palm sliding down to her hand. He covered it with his, squeezed. “I don’t know what to think. So we’ll take it a step at a time. I don’t want you seeing this. I’ll go through it. You go inside.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat that just kept growing. “There could be worse in there. I don’t wantyougoing through it. What if there’s something...”

“Something?”

“He’s an abusive, violet criminal. Those dolls could be just a scare tactic he thought was funny, or they could be hiding something worse.”

Jack studied her face, something grim and...looking a lot like fury seeming to darken his gaze. Emotionless cop gone, just like that. “Were the joke gifts he gave you when you were a kidusuallyhiding something worse?”

She held herself very still, purposefully blocking out old memories she didn’t want to show on her face. Her father’s had never stuck around long. She liked to pretend he hadn’t been there at all.

But he’d done damage in what little spaces he’d had. It didn’t take alotof bad experiences to know he was capable of awful things. Only one, and the threat of a repeat.

She did not want Jack knowing that, but she couldn’t seem to come up with a lie to get that protective look off his face. Like he could go back in time and make it all right.

“It doesn’t matter,” she managed.

“Chl—”

“I said, it doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t. This isn’t about... It was a mistake to think this is connected. It’s a mistake to start digging into...” But she couldn’t finish that sentence because if her father was responsible for the dead bodies on the Brink Ranch—and God knew that was looking more and more likely—everything he’d done back then would be examined under a microscope to determine motive, means and opportunity.

She wanted to throw up.

“What happened to you when you were a kid isn’t—”

She couldn’t take his pity. She wouldn’t. “I’ve had therapy, Jack. I’ve dealt with my garbage bin of a childhood. I don’t need you and your perfect one psychoanalyzing me.”

She sucked in a breath, immediately regretting everything she’d just said. She could have punched herself for how insensitive it was. Sure, he’d had a great childhood—but then, he’d also spent every second of his adulthood stepping into his missing parents’ shoes. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head like it didn’t matter. But it did. This all mattered, and shehatedit.

She moved her hand so she was grasping his instead of the other way around. She looked into those dark, fathomless eyes, and she didn’t care if she was begging. She just needed this to not explode on her. “Please. I wouldn’t ask this of you if it didn’t matter. Please. Don’t.” She wouldn’t cry. “Let the detectives handle it. With the right gear, the right warning.” Shewouldn’tcry. Not in front of Jack—herboss. Because that’s what he was right now.

Not the guy who’d kissed her this morning like she was special. It didn’t do any good to think about that completely separate moment.

“Okay.” His free arm came around her, pulled her close. Even though they both wore their uniforms. Their gun belts. Their radios. He shouldn’t do this. She shouldn’t let him.

But she didn’t pull away, because she was shaking, and if he held her, maybe she could find some anchor in the midst of all this mess.

JACKCOULDN’TCONVINCEChloe to go inside, but he did get her to sit down on the stoop of her cabin porch—where he’d just cleaned up snake remains yesterday.

Only forty-eight hours. No, he didn’t like this, or that it pointed to something morecurrenthappening around a very old potential murder.

He glanced back at her. She’d been startled by the snake, but it hadn’t really affected her. This? It had shaken her. He’d never seen her quite so affected byanything, not that he couldn’t blame her for it. The dolls were creepy enough on their own—add the fact that it was clearly and purposefully done to mess with her by her own father...

Jack supposed it was a good thing Mark Brink was in prison over a thousand miles away, because the way all this information settled inside him was testing his usually impeccable control.

As it was, he focused on the present. He didn’t sit next to her on the stoop. It seemed to agitate her more. So he stood just out of reach, waiting for Bent County to arrive.

When they did, Jack handled everything. He wasn’t sure that was what she wanted, and he knew he could be overbearing—his siblings made sure he knew. He didn’t mind it when it came to them, but it bothered him with Chloe.

She had a say too, but this was... Like anything else, he couldn’t protect her fromeverything. But he would protect her from what he could.

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