Page 9 of Long Road Home

Jax continued, “I’d rather get him before the next kill occurs, and if Kenna knows to be on the watch forthe Walker, then we’d be using all the resources at our disposal.” Not tying their hands together by excluding her.

“You’re gonna have to be careful with that, Jaxton.” Clarke laced his fingers on his stomach. “Running to a private investigator every time you can’t solve a case.”

They knew exactly who they were hunting. Where he’d been. What kind of victims he chose. But Jax didn’t think that was what his boss meant. “It isn’t like that.”

“No? You’ll end up with a reputation regardless. Separating yourself from her, at least professionally for some time, can only help you build trust with the team.”

Because Clarke thought he needed to?

His boss continued, “Otherwise you’re the guy who runs to the PI he’s loyal to. Instead of being a team player, loyal to the FBI.”

Jax figured loyalty to the FBI might be part of the problem between Clarke and Mrs. Clarke, but he kept that thought to himself.

“Far as I can see, he’s just baiting her,” Clarke said. “Trying to get a rise out of her—if we passed on the information. So why don’t we show him whatwe’remade of instead.”

“Yes, sir.”

Clarke tapped the file. “Your request to inform her that our suspect has eyes on her is denied.”

Jax collected the images and left the office, trying not to let the irritation show on his face—or the way he closed the door.

Whatever is lovely. Whatever is of good report.

Not a lot of that in tracking serial killers, so he had to go outside the FBI and his work as a special agent. Which brought him to Kenna. Her family. His family. Faith. The strong foundation he was building, and had been for years, laying each brick with reading the Bible, praying, going to church, taking communion. Simple, but effective.

As he walked back to his desk, he rolled his shoulders. The left side had remained stiff since Mexico, and he’d been working with a physical therapist. Mostly now it was only aches and pains, scars and old injuries that were healing.

The past faded.

He preferred to live in Christ in the present and look to the future. Not something many of the people he worked with understood, though he’d started attending a weekly Bible study in the office here run by one of the agents fromfinancial crimes. And a men’s breakfast at the small Calvary Chapel offshoot he attended.

Until something changed, or God said differently, this was where he’d been planted. He worked with two of the agents who’d come down to Mexico and helped rescue him and Kenna, and Maizie. They were tracking the associate of Kurt and his sheriff cousin, a man who had murdered many young women and young men. The killer his friends knew as “Parker” and his victims knew as “the Walker” orEl Caminantehad grown up in a border town in Texas. He joined the US Army so he could kill, and it was sanctioned, and now he operated in Southern California and the west side of Arizona.

El Caminanteshowed no mercy, and he killed regularly.

The Walker needed to be caught soon.

But Jax couldn’t get Kenna’s help on this one.

“No dice?” The agent he usually worked with, Farnes, settled his backpack strap over one shoulder.

Jax shook his head.

“I’m out for the night. See you in the morning.”

“Night.”

Farnes knocked on his desktop. “Get some sleep.”

Jax nodded, then packed up his things and grabbed his cell. Halfway to the elevator, his phone started to ring, vibrating in his suit jacket pocket.

The screen of his watch readM, which meant it was Maizie calling.

He pulled out his earbuds and answered the call. “Hey, kid.” He jabbed the button for the parking level and leaned against the side of the elevator as it descended.

Maizie launched in, barely taking a breath. “The kidnapper was arrested, Marion Wells. The latest victim was in this secret room in her closet, and she was barely alive. Kenna saved her life.”

Jax smiled to himself.

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