Searching (PAVAD- FBI Romantic Suspense Book 18) by Calle Brookes (100 books to read in a lifetime txt) 📕

“We’re looking for a man named Paul Sturvin, and his seven-old-daughter. He’s a fugitive, wanted for the deaths of at least ten that we know of, including three children under the age of eight.”

“DB’s this way—”

Jac saw her then. Saw the ambulance and the familiar blond head. “Olivia!”

She didn’t wait, didn’t ask questions. Jac just ran. A deputy stepped into her path. She held up her credentials. “I’m here for Olivia.”

It took a few minutes for him to sort everything out with Colton and the responders. Max knew where Jac’s full focus was going to be.

Olivia.

He looked at the sheriff, ignoring the yells and the sounds of an active fire scene. “Where’s the DB?”

“Here. Dumped in the front yard. We almost ran over him with a damned fire truck. Missed him at the last minute. Thought smoke inhalation got him, but he’s clean. Except for the forty-caliber round between his eyes.”

Max swore as he looked down at the remains of Paul Sturvin/Philip Sullivan. The man was sprawled out like trash.

The storm was going to wash away evidence tonight, and it would be a few hours before forensics could get there.

Damn it.

They’d been after Sturvin, but now…who the hell had shot him?

Another player in the game changed everything.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. What in the hell is going on here, Jones?”

“I’ll have to fill you in later. Because I don’t have a damned clue what’s going on here.”

“Found the girl over here. Wrapped in a blanket, propped up against that monstrosity.” There was a concrete birdbath with a three-foot stone dolphin weathering in the center of the front yard. “Thought she was under because of the smoke, but EMTs say she looks like she’s been sedated. Has a fever as well.”

“How long has this been burning?”

“A few hours at the most, as far as I know now. You want to tell me about this? This the guy on the news?”

“Yes. Paul Sturvin. Killed his wife, abducted his two daughters.”

“We got another kid in there?” Panic immediately hit the other man’s tone, and he stepped toward the flames.

Max held up a hand. “No. We recovered the younger girl. She’s safe now. We are damned glad to find the older girl.”

“Glad I could help, such that it is. And now…I’ve got a drug bust going on forty miles from here. And I don’t have time to fight for jurisdiction on this. Case and the DB is all yours.”

“Anything to go on?” Max asked as the detective he’d known for years started toward his squad car.

“Not a damned thing. Good luck, Jones. See you later.”

“Thanks, Colton, I owe you one.”

“Damned straight. I’ll collect on it someday.”

97

Todd had to get out of there. He’d seen the anger in Lytel’s eyes. It was only a matter of time before he figured out that it wasn’t Young or Harris who had carried Sturvin’s little girl out of the house.

There would be only one man who could have done it, and Lytel would know that.

Those three fuckers had left a drugged little girl to burn alive in that shack. She couldn’t identify them. She posed no threat to them. They could have done exactly what Todd had—he’d wrapped her up in her blanket and carried her outside, where she’d be safe. He’d been careful, there would be no way to tie him to her.

They didn’t have to just leave her. They’d taken oaths to serve and protect.

And they had just left her there.

Todd wasn’t going to be a part of it any longer.

He didn’t trust Lytel not to come after him next. Sturvin had become a liability. Anyone could see that.

Todd wasn’t interested in playing that game any longer.

He had to be able to look at himself in the mirror each day. Throwing his lot in with baby killers, especially baby killers wearing the same damned badge Todd wore every day, was never something he would be cool with.

Todd opened his laptop. He had a confession to write, an email to send. Then he was getting his ass out of here. He had relatives in Canada. By the time he sent the email, his plane would have landed north of the border, and he’d disappear up there. He had some savings, and he was a hell of a lot smarter than Paul Sturvin ever could be.

But he wanted the email to Ed Dennis written first. Then he’d hide his ass until Dennis told him it was safe for him to return. Just how that was going to happen, he didn’t know yet.

It took him two hours to get the words just right. He was supposed to be sleeping.

Max Jones had put everyone on stand down for the next ten hours, considering most had been up almost around the clock since Rachel Sturvin’s body had been found.

The girls had been found, were safe. They had time for people to get some damned sleep.

Todd wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he got this shit off his conscience somehow.

He signed his name and scheduled the identical emails for first thing in the morning. He duplicated one, then added a few more things, things of a more personal nature.

Todd was going to tell Miranda even more. He didn’t know why, but he just…didn’t want her thinking he was seriously involved with the kind of men who would leave a seven-year-old to burn. Maybe he’d never see her again, but he wanted her to think he was a better man than that.

He had just packed his belongings, emptying the hotel drawers quickly. He had forty-five minutes until his plane departed. And he left everything he’d ever cared about behind.

98

All they knew for certain was that Paul Sturvin had killed Debbie Miller.

They didn’t have anything definitive—such as DNA or a murder weapon with his prints on it—that said he had been the one to bludgeon Rachel to death.

Dani and Whit were going to handle the wrap-up and wait for the final forensics reports.

They had a lot of