Caitlyn Yang inwardly cringed as Miguel rattled off her marching orders over the phone.
“It’s imperative we stay close and keep an eye on him. His emotions are running high and justifiably so. The kidnapper will make contact again. When that happens, we need to be there. Hopefully he won’t have an issue with Madeline staying the night,” Miguel said in her ear.
Wishful thinking.
Rhodes had had a problem with everything else thus far. From how long it took the tech team to set up to the endless round of questions he hammered her with, demanding answers about the case that either she didn’t have or wasn’t her place to provide.
His frustration was normal. His anger understandable.
His entire world was hanging in the balance.
He was a guarded man who valued his privacy and was used to being in charge. Sitting around doing nothing while surrounded by strangers was probably the hardest part for him.
Now she had to be the one to drop the bombshell that he wouldn’t even have his home to himself tonight.
“I’ll take care of it,” Caitlyn said, standing in the foyer, where she’d excused herself to take the call.
“As always,” Miguel said. “I know I can count on you. Madeline should be there within the hour. She needed to grab some things from home first.”
What did Caitlyn have to complain about? Madeline was the one who would be stuck here, dealing with Rhodes all night. No break to decompress and hit the ground running fresh tomorrow.
Caitlyn’s heart went out to her. Madeline avoided taking on the role of family support during kidnapping cases. Not that she wasn’t capable. Staying laser focused on finding an abducted child alive—always the burning goal—took precedence over the impact to the parents. Her job exacted a heavy emotional toll. Required a cool detachment to see things objectively and stay in control. Mix in handling the relatives and friends of victims, an already tough task which often pushed Caitlyn to her limits, and anyone could get overwhelmed.
It was a lot to manage. A lot for someone to be.
At times, Caitlyn suspected there might be a deeper reason, one more personal, that kept Madeline at a distance from the families. Perhaps she was haunted by ghosts from her past. Had lost someone close to her.
In the five years they had worked together at BAU, they’d become friends, though not close enough for Madeline to share her history or reveal what had motivated her to join the FBI.
Whatever tormented Madeline also drove her to find and rescue victims, even at the expense of having a personal life of her own. As though her job was her reason for living.
“Okay,” Caitlyn said to Miguel. “I’ll hang here until Madeline arrives.” She disconnected the call.
Her specialty was smoothing over ruffled feathers, whether civilian, media or local law enforcement, and Rhodes was testing her skills today.
Taking on the role of family support was usually effortless for her. Comforting the victims’ loved ones gave her a sense of professional satisfaction that no other aspect of her job provided. The trick was figuring out what kind of support a person needed.
Everyone was different. No one-size-fits-all technique worked.
Her initial approach with the doting father had been way off base. The more she offered to do for him, the more anxious and snappish he became. She had to go against her natural instincts, dial down her efforts to console him while minimizing the sense of intrusion when the tech team had been in the house.
Once they had cleared out, it had been touch and go with Rhodes.
The one thing that she had found worked no matter age, gender or personality was distraction.
She stuffed her phone in her pocket and followed the music.
Sad and familiar, the melody being played from the piano rose and fell gently, reaching deeper inside her until her heart ached. She slipped into the living room, not wanting to disturb him as his fingers glided over the keys of the baby grand in the corner.
Dear God. She never would’ve guessed that he had such talent inside him.
The way he played was entrancing.
He struck the last chord. The melancholic melody hung in the air, resonating in her soul, and goose bumps broke out on her arms. She wanted to weep.
Staying seated, he rested his hand on the top of the piano.
This was as good a time as any. “That was Supervisory Special Agent Peters on the phone. He would like to have an agent stay the night.” She geared up for the rest of her speech. “The volatility of the situation—”
“Which agent?” he asked, his voice flat and low, keeping his back to her.
“Madeline Striker.”
“Madeline,” he said with a strange emphasis. A statement, not a question. For a beat longer, he didn’t move. Then he swiveled around on the bench and looked at her, his face impassive.
Was he going to complain? Fight this?
One of the most important parts of her job was to reduce the stress for the agents whenever and however she could in her dealings with the police, the press and public.
Caitlyn raced through a list of potential objections he might make and chose the best proactive counterargument. “Once the kidnapper makes contact again, we want to ensure you’re not compelled to take action you might regret. Especially if the form of communication changes from text to a phone call. With Special Agent Striker present we can manage an appropriate response, as well as act on any new information quickly. She’s on her way here now.”
“It’s fine.”
Wait, what? “Really?”
“Yes. I’ll do whatever is necessary to get Emma back.”
Caitlyn wiped the shock from her face. “I’ll stay until she arrives.”
“To watch me and keep me under thumb.” He rose. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea while you wait?”
“Tea, please.”
THE NIGHT HAD grown chilly. Fat splats of rain pounded the car, accompanied by a long growl of thunder. Madeline drove her Volvo to Madison Park, a far more affluent area than where she lived. Her Wedgwood neighborhood was safe, affordable, allowed her to get away from the busy city center while the commute to work was still quick via I-5. But it was a far cry from the chic enclave of legacy properties lying on the shore of Lake Washington that many business executives sought to live in.
Out of all the high-powered, wealthy CEOs in Seattle, and they were in abundance in this city, why had Jackson Rhodes been targeted?
Better still, why work out the grievance through his child?
Jackson was driven, smart, self-assured without being arrogant. Capable of rising to the top. Whoever did this must view his love for his daughter as his weakness.
Children made you vulnerable. Opened you to the possibility of unimaginable pain. The very reason she never wanted to bring a life into this world. She’d watched her parents suffer for years, bore witness to how their grief ate away at their family like a cancer.
For all the guts she had every day on the job, she was still too much of a coward to be a mother.
The GPS chimed, indicating she had reached her destination. She parked the car in front of the house and killed the engine. Lightning flashed through the sky.
Storm clouds made the evening an unusually dark one. Everything beyond the wet windshield seemed to be dissolving, as though the whole world might drain away through some cosmic hole. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, not wanting any part of herself to get sucked into the void, set adrift in the darkness, alone. It had been so long since she had needed to hold on to anything, but this case was dredging up the agonizing memories of that life-changing day when her sister, Kimberly, had been kidnapped.
For so many years, one question plagued Madeline.
Why Kimberly and not her?
Guilt tightened around her like a noose.
She’d worked so hard to move past it, to convince herself that she was stronger than the loss, than the pain that had nearly crushed her family.
Burying her face in her hands, she gave in for a fleeting moment to the dread and pain churning inside her. The memories made her want to curl within herself. Disappear.
Pull yourself together. You don’t do pity parties.
That innocent little girl needs you.
So many in her field entered this profession as a way to do good. For Madeline, it was a way to drive out the darkness.
Dropping her hands, she hauled in a steadying breath and realigned her focus to one thing. Finding Emma Rhodes. Nothing else mattered.
She had to come to an understanding with Jackson that working together was in his daughter’s best interest. Then she had questions for him, and his answers had better be damn good.
The rain slowed. The last rumble of thunder sounded farther away. The storm was passing. One good thing at least.
She leaned over to the passenger seat, grabbing her umbrella and overnight bag. After leaving the office, she’d made a pit stop at her condo and packed a few changes of clothes and some essentials. She would be holed up with Jackson for as long as it took to find his daughter and prayed that wouldn’t be more than a day or two.
Madeline hopped out into the drizzle, hoisting the open umbrella over her head.
The rain crackled against the pavement as if it were oil in a deep fryer. She looked up and down the quiet street, taking in the surroundings. Only a handful of cars were parked along the curb. She noted makes and models. The rest of the vehicles were in driveways or she assumed the garage by this late hour.
Shivering against the chill, she walked up the stone path to a charming cottage set on a large lot. According to the GPS, the house was only steps from the lake.
The nip in the air had her hurrying up the wooden stairs and under the covered porch. She closed her umbrella, giving it a good shake.
The glass panes of the front door provided a view of the lit foyer and short hall that led deeper into the house.
Before ringing the bell, she sucked in the rainy night air, seeking a little more emotional distance. Then another deep, cleansing breath.
Still, she hesitated.
Compartmentalization allowed her to operate at the top of her game. She’d learned techniques to detach and deal with the emotion later—while out on a run, unwinding in the bath, during her kickboxing class, any time or place she wasn’t on the clock and didn’t have to be a consummate professional. That was the only way to do her job.
Yet all of her tried and tested tactics were failing her.
Something, or rather so many things, about Jackson and this case made it hard not to feel when the last thing she could afford was any sort of attachment to a victim’s father.
Professional investment was necessary. An emotional one would only cause distraction.
She rang the bell.
Less than a minute later, Jackson and Caitlyn rounded the corner into the foyer, engaged in easy conversation. No one appeared on offense or defense.
Jackson opened the door. “Madeline.” He gave her a smile, broken and weak, fragile as a wounded bird.
There went that catch in her chest, which came each time she saw his sorrow.
“Come in.” He stepped aside, beckoning her to enter.
“Thank you.” The space was bathed in soft golden light. “I know it’s an inconvenience to have someone in your home, but I’ll do my best to make sure my presence doesn’t feel like an intrusion. With any luck, you won’t notice I’m here.”
“That will be an impossible task.” His gaze locked onto hers. “This is a small house, but it would be difficult not to notice you even if it were a sprawling estate.”
Was that good or bad? Considering how they’d left things when they’d last spoken, she wasn’t quite sure.
Jackson had changed clothes, ditching the suit. He wore jeans and a cobalt blue long-sleeved T-shirt that matched the color of his eyes. The clingy material hugged his broad shoulders and biceps, stretching across a muscled expanse that tapered to slim hips.
All the oxygen emptied from Madeline’s lungs. She swallowed, tightening her grip on her bag. Never had she reacted to a man in quite this manner.
It wasn’t as if she could click it on or off. A part of her feared blocking the sensation of feeling so routinely that she might construct a wall too thick and tall to be able to get through one day.
“The surveillance on his landline and laptop are good to go,” Caitlyn said. “The team will be able to monitor everything. I should head out.” She walked to the door. “Try not to worry, Mr. Rhodes.”
“It’s Jackson.” His tone toward her had warmed considerably.
Caitlyn flashed a gentle smile, but Madeline noted it was more reserved than usual.
The evening must have been tense. Jackson coming home for the first time without Emma, surrounded by strangers. For Caitlyn, she probably had to navigate an emotional minefield, but if anyone could handle it with finesse and compassion, it was her.
Madeline turned to Caitlyn before she slipped through the door. “You might want to give Lorelai a call. I think she’ll need to vent.”
Caitlyn gave her a knowing nod. They were used to being the proverbial shoulder for Lorelai to lean on since the engagement. Both of them adored Lorelai and were happy to listen whenever she needed.
With a curt wave, Caitlyn was gone.
He locked the door and put the chain on. “Let me show you to the guest room.”
“That won’t be necessary. I can catch a few winks on the sofa.”
“I won’t hear of it.”
He headed down the short hall, leading her past a formal living room with a piano. The dining room sat across from the kitchen. Beyond that was the family room, lit from the glow from the fireplace. Large windows overlooked the dark front yard. Next, they passed what appeared to be his office. At about two thousand square feet, the one-story multimillion-dollar home was cozy, welcoming. Tastefully furnished in a neutral palette, it was the kind of place where you wanted to sit down, have a glass of wine and snuggle in.
Finally, he opened the door to a room with a queen-size bed ready for guests. “There’s no en suite, but the bathroom is next door. Emma’s bedroom is right across the hall.” Sorrow drifted across his expression. The muscles in his throat worked as if he’d swallowed gravel. “Mine is at the end of the hall.”
Staying in the corridor, Madeline dropped her overnight bag on the floor inside the room, setting her purse on top, and kept her cell handy. He leaned against the doorjamb and their eyes met, his deep and unfathomable.
For one quiet moment, they stared at each other. She fought not to squirm in her skin or shift her gaze under the unexpected jolt of power that came with that stare.
Why couldn’t he get less attractive the closer she got? Instead, he was one of those men you couldn’t help but look at. An aesthetic face that was all male, a slash of cheekbones and sculpted mouth. Blue eyes with such intensity of color she could lose herself in them. Hair that was thick and full. He was almost ridiculously gorgeous with a devastating presence that filled a room.
Before she melted into a puddle at his feet, she asked, “Can we sit down somewhere and talk?”
They needed to hash things out. Right now.
Jackson gestured for Madeline to follow him.
Lecturing him, extolling her success rate, trying to use her position to get him to fall in line wouldn’t work on him. Only one thing would get him to trust her and treat her like a teammate in this because he sure as heck wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines.
She straightened, steeling herself for what she had to do.