Page 27 of Holiday Grief

That dog was practically glued to Jasmine’s side. When she was out, she let the dog have the use of the fenced yard and the kitchen by use of a doggie door. At this time in the morning, Jasmine should still be at home, and even if she’d left to take care of something for her farm the dog wouldn’t be crying in the yard, she’d either be out enjoying the fresh air or hanging inside. Knowing Fauna, likely inside playing with one of her toys.

Pulling his gun free, Adam climbed the porch steps and found the front door open.

Weapon in hand, he entered Jasmine’s home, still desperately hoping that whatever was wrong was minor. Maybe she’d just had a fall and was unable to get to her phone to call for help. Wasn’t like that would be a good thing but certainly better than the alternative.

Because the alternative was that she had been taken from her home by force, or she’d been hurt—or killed—by whoever had broken in.

But her home was empty.

He cleared it room by room and found nothing.

No signs of Jasmine.

In the kitchen, he did find something disturbing. On the floor of her pantry, there was a blanket and a pillow. Had Jasmine been sleeping down here? For how long? Was this a result of her assault or to do with her past?

It broke his heart to know she closed herself in the pantry at night in an attempt to feel safe.

But as upsetting as it was, he had bigger issues to deal with now.

Grabbing his phone, Adam called Jessica. “I need a team at Jasmine Crane’s house now,” he said without preamble.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got here and the front door was open, dog was locked out the back, and no signs of Jasmine.”

“I’ll be right there and make sure a CSU team is sent right out. Any idea who took her or why?”

“No. But she’s keeping some sort of secret about her past. I’ll call her brother and see if he knows what it might be.” As he talked to his partner, he went to the back door and opened it, letting Fauna in. Maybe the dog could point him in a direction, any direction, so long as he had something to work with.

No way was he losing Jasmine like this.

As soon as she was inside, Fauna darted around him and ran into the hall. She walked right down to a spot and stopped, looking straight at him and whining.

“Hold on, the dog might have something.” Because animals were intuitive and Fauna was the closest thing he had to a witness, he went to see what the dog was trying to tell him and found something half hidden under a chair, like it had been dropped and fluttered down to rest there. When he picked it up he saw it was a sonogram picture.

Even before he looked at it, he knew this was the reason Jasmine was so hesitant to let anyone in. They hadn't had sex so he knew the baby wasn’t his, and her rape was well over a year ago. This pregnancy was part of her past.

“Find anything?” Jessica asked.

“A picture of a sonogram. Date on it says it’s six years old.” Which meant Jasmine’s baby would be close in age to Claire. How hard must it have been for her to be around his daughter when her heart must have been aching for her own child. He had no idea if she’d lost the baby or given it up for adoption, but either way, she was a mother without her baby.

“I’ll look into Jasmine’s life at that time, try to identify a possible father.”

“Wait. There’s something else.” On the back of the picture were two letters which looked to be written in blood.

A clue.

While his girl had been fighting for her life—because he knew Jasmine was at heart a fighter—she had also been thinking ahead. Trying to leave something behind so he’d have a way to find her.

Hold on, green eyes. I'm coming.

“It’s letters on the back of the picture. B J.”

“I’ll start running the initials and see if they pop anything.”

“I’m going to call Jett, see if we can access some of the FBI’s resources, and see what he knows about his sister’s life six years ago and who she knew with the initials B J.”

“Good luck.”

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