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As was Dr. Jones. The child looked for her often, much the way Olivia and Ava looked for Rachel.

Maybe Jaclyn and Max Jones were having an affair? It was possible, though he hadn’t confirmed it yet. He’d make note to check into it. That could be potentially useful information.

Jaclyn would make an excellent mother; it was evident in how she interacted with the children around her. So graceful.

He pursed his lips and forced himself not to scowl at his wife. This birthday party was not an event he had originally approved. She had insisted the girls be free to attend and had argued with him for an hour before he’d given in and driven them himself, though she knew he had some very important work to do.

Rachel had said it would make it easier on Olivia at school.

Dr. Jones’s daughter was a year-and-a-half older, but they were in the same portion of the building. And in some of the same combined classes.

Looking around, he wasn’t too put out by the ones Rachel now chose to associate with. Perhaps she had learned her lesson last time.

It had taken him six months to chase off Claudetta, the last woman she’d become friends with without Paul’s permission.

Paul studied each guest quickly. That was the director of PAVAD’s wife there. The one who was the ex-wife of a state senator from Indiana, he believed. Another woman was the daughter of a local politician. Her daughter was running around with his somewhere nearby.

Even the Jones girl was a connection of the Chicago Holstelds. That was an important connection to foster. Rachel had informed him of the little girl’s lineage on the drive over.

Paul winced; Rachel had known exactly how to play him today. That concerned him. Yes; those kinds of connections met his approval. What didn’t was how Rachel had behaved.

Once things fell into place, and Paul received payment for his work with the FBI databases, those connections could be extremely important.

He needed to earn the trust of the people at this very party. Just in case that side gig didn’t quite work out the way he needed it to.

Paul probably needed to find Rachel or the children and show how much of a good husband and father he was. Set things up for later.

This party was more fortuitous than he had assumed during the drive over when he’d been arguing with Rachel.

Paul still hadn’t forgiven or forgotten her blatant disregard for the rules. Rachel knew better than that. She should have run this party by him first.

She’d demanded to know why. He wasn’t certain his answer had satisfied her at all.

He was going to have to make it known exactly how he felt tonight. When he had her alone.

Rachel needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

It wasn’t her, and it never would be.

27

Max’s beautiful house looked like a crime scene.

Jac had seen far too many of those. But nothing like this.

Jac took another look around, then revised her initial evaluation. There was a definite resemblance to the worst disaster scene she’d ever seen.

It looked like a…well, there was no real word for it. It looked like the aftermath of chaos that only thirty-eight children under the age of twelve could create.

The PAVAD parents of the Brynlock kids had helped with some of the cleanup, but she doubted Max’s rec room would ever be fully the same again. Red punch stained the concrete floor everywhere she looked. He’d probably have to put some paint on it at some point.

Jac really hoped that was chocolate icing smeared on the wall—and not something else. The Hellbrooks’ two-year-old had been over in that corner while her grandmother was busy with Evalyn’s older brother Matthew. That…anything could have happened.

There was no way Jac was going over there. Max would have to handle that corner by himself.

There were balloons floating halfway to the floor, obscuring visibility as the helium leaked free.

Emery was curled up in her new gaming chair, an American Girl book in her hands, and the new 1980s-style eighteen-inch doll Jac had bought her sitting on her lap. She’d been asking for that particular doll for months.

The 1980s accessories were cool now—because they were vintage. That cracked Jac up when she thought about it.

Emery had cat ear headphones on her ears and an iPod plugged in. The doll wore headphones and had a cassette player in bright colors. Jac had picked it out herself.

Jac was doing her best to get the ghosting balloons down and into a trash bag. Max was grabbing trash bags out of the kitchen.

Jac looked up when he entered the rec room again. He’d lost the apron. His deep-brown hair was sticking out everywhere on his head—it was definitely time for a haircut. There was a shell-shocked, exhausted expression in his gorgeous blue eyes. Even his broad shoulders drooped from exhaustion, making her want to cuddle the man.

Jac watched him for a moment. Max liked order.

A kids’ birthday party was as disorderly as it could get.

Emery had had a wonderful day. That was what mattered.

She moved a chair off to the side. A stuffed animal fell to the floor.

Jac scooped it up.

It was Rachel’s daughter’s. “Do you want to send this to the school with Emery on Monday? It’s the little Sturvin girl’s. His name is Mr. Bird, and he’s very special.”

Max nodded. “I found a few other things. I’m sure that’s Bobby Dennis’s coat. Under all that icing. Or Matthew Hellbrook’s. I’ll probably have a box to carry in when I drop her off for those kids who don’t have PAVAD parents.”

“You survived another year. I’m proud of you.”

“It was horrendous. When do they outgrow birthday parties like this?” he asked in a whisper.

Jac looked at the little girl rocking out to her new iPod, with the doll cuddled close. Such a mix of growing up and little child all rolled into one. “Too soon?”

His gaze followed hers. The love he had for his daughter was written right there for her to

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