OBSESSION (The Bening Files (Novella) Book 4) (6 page)

“Nothing new there.” Robinson opened the file he’d been avoiding for the better part of two weeks. He flipped through Davis’ information as if he had less than seconds to absorb it and respond to the threat.

That could be the case, couldn’t it? The woman had been more present as of late. Standoffish, but around.

So he didn’t have those truth-altering glasses, but he was a little in denial. Procrastinating. It wasn’t his style, nor his wife’s. One of them was usually jumping into the thick of things with little regard to anything but saving a life. Instead, they were both employing a fair amount of delegation.

Not a whole heck of a lot was
normal
these days.

“I’d ask if I need to hunt her down, but it sounds like you’ve got that covered. Is she still working incognito?”

An annoyed grunt filled the line. “This was much easier when she was engaged to Jordan.”

Only because Robinson’s friend and colleague had covered for her in ways Dexter would never understand. Much like the Knight family couldn’t comprehend Dexter’s work at the prison. Or his need to go overseas and help those in combat zones.

“Anyway, I assume this call isn’t about my annoying little sister. So, what’s up?”

Robinson fingered the edge of the papers and blew out a breath. “I need your professional opinion on someone.”

“Active case?”

Only if you counted the amount of time this woman spent around Amanda. “I’ve got a twenty-six-year-old female who grew up in the system after having been abandoned following birth at an unknown location. Got a couple of documented fights.”

Did a kid who’d grown up with that experience automatically become a menace? He rubbed a hand across his forehead. The stereotype was beyond wrong. Rough childhood didn’t equal a future life of crime.

Then why did he have this sense of urgency humming through his system whenever Amanda’s partner was around?

“They estimated the child was born at thirty weeks’ gestation. She spent a week in the NICU before doctors diagnosed her with a heart defect that resulted in surgery, followed by more time in the NICU.”

“That explains the extended time spent with the state. Couples may wait years and pay a hefty fee for an adoption, but a sick child is never anyone’s first choice.”

Even the adoptive parents they’d chosen for the fraternal twins Paige carried wanted a full work up and a million promises the pair—a boy and a girl—would be born healthy.

The couple was an irritating combination of mushy-goo-goo love and over-exaggerated gestures that came through as one giant show. At least to him. They looked the same on paper as they did in public.

Perfect clothes. Fancy vehicles. Hand-picked careers. Impeccable pedigrees.

Fake.

But, hey, that and the open adoption wasn’t his call. Not an easy decision for an adult, let alone a thirteen-year-old.

“So what’s the issue, Robinson?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t need you, would I?” He shifted and instantly regretted the motion as pain crawled across his sternum. “Something isn’t ringing true.” He shuffled the pages again. Scanned incident reports involving fights that would have been considered minor had she been with her own family and not in foster care.

“Based on what you’ve told me, I’ve got little to assess. The situation you described doesn’t have enough detail. Being in foster care could easily have as many positive implications as negative.”

He knew this. It wasn’t good enough.

“And being in a few fights doesn’t provide much insight either. I’d say exhibit A is average, those conflicts being pretty much par for the course with a kid in the system. Maybe she has lingering abandonment issues. Beyond that, I’m sort of grasping at really short straws.”

“That’s helpful.” And typical of Dexter’s seeing-both-sides-to-any-argument attitude.

It was one thing for Robinson to get info on Davis and share his suspicions with Amanda. Sharing it with Dexter? No holds barred? Well, that was either a step in the right direction or completely unwarranted and the kind of thing that ruined lives.

“I’m not a profiler. I don’t like labeling someone who may or may not be guilty based on some facts on paper.” He paused, the silence lengthening with the background noise. “It comes down to basic human nature. What leads a person down one path, while another, with similar circumstances, goes the opposite direction? When you come up with a cookie-cutter answer for that let me know.”

A knock sounded on his door seconds before Assistant Special Agent in Charge Jordan Bening strolled inside, folder in hand. A grim look covered his friend’s features. Robinson held up a hand. “You’re the one with the psychology degree. And a knack for being right on target about people, Dexter.” Whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Quiescence reigned for a beat. “This isn’t for an active case?”

Robinson tapped the edge of his desk with an index finger. “Nope.”

“You can’t go through her life and try to foresee every single danger.”

He could try, even if that wasn’t exactly his angle with Amanda. “She’s a little preoccupied right now, so I’m watching her back.”

“And you’re plate isn’t full at all?”

“Got all my ducks in a neat little row.” Epic lie of the century. Between work, his recovery and ensuring his family thrived—a.k.a Amanda slept and ate and that Paige did the same—there wasn’t time for much else.

He hadn’t been altogether successful on either account.

“You know, if you’re not into this thing with Paige one hundred percent—”

“I’m in.” There was no question in his mind, hadn’t been since he’d woken up in the hospital after the car accident. He was sick of people insinuating otherwise. Or questioning if what he and Amanda were doing was wise.

Are you jumping the gun by adopting Paige?

If it appeared as though he was mostly on the sidelines looking in, that was only because it worked best.

Right now.

And there was only so long he’d allow it to happen. “And it’s not a
thing
. It’s called being there for family.” Creating one for a child who’d had everything taken from her.

“It never hurts to talk about things.”

“Mm-hmm.”

A sigh filled the line. “Email me what you have. I’ll take a look at it as soon as I get settled.”

“Thanks, Dex.” He disconnected and set the phone aside. Tried to concentrate on anything but the mess he had swirling around him.

Jordan eyed him. “How is the Knight clan these days?”

“Juliana’s off on some mission again. Dexter’s annoyed she can’t be bothered to check in.” Robinson piled his information together. He couldn’t help running a hand over the twinge still fighting for precedence in his chest.

“I see.” Jordan eyed him in a way that said he knew every thought going on in Robinson’s mind. The other man hadn’t bothered to sit down during his phone conversation and still didn’t now.

Agitation started a sickening swirl in his gut. They needed one small break. It wasn’t much to ask.

“You okay?” His ASAC stepped closer. Jordan’s gaze scanned him as if he might keel over any second. “You look like crap.”

He stole an apple from the drawer in his desk and crunched off a bite. “Took an elbow to the chest. No big deal.” Except it sounded like something a punk kid would say. Not a grown man.

And he despised the worry on his friend’s face, almost as much as he hated seeing it on his wife’s. Which is why he’d left her with the keys to his new SUV and swiped her car with barely two words of explanation. He was tired of the questions. He was alive, healthy and ready as ever for a challenge.

And he’d likely pay for his reticence at some point.

“I can call Amanda.”

No. “It’s just a bruise that has to heal. Can’t call my wife every time I get a twinge. What am I? A wimpy girl?” He resisted rubbing his chest and instead fiddled with his computer. “Give it to me straight, Bening.”

A knock sounded on the door milliseconds before it opened. Amanda stormed inside, her expression that of a gathering storm. Then she shut it behind her. The loud
clank
of metal smashing together bounced around the room.

“You gonna explain that?” She pointed toward the closed door and walked toward him as if they’d had some sort of disagreement right outside his office. Instead of the disaster befalling them. She scanned him from head to toe. Stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. “I’m fine. Just got the wind knocked out of me.” Literally and figuratively. Getting it back was paramount to survival.

“Let me see.” She moved toward him, then removed the apple from his grasp and set it on the desk. Amanda pulled back his jacket and tie as if she could read his mind and knew where his pain originated.

“There’s nothing to see.” He stilled her hands. They were cold and unsteady. She didn’t make eye contact. Tiny red splotches colored her cheeks, almost imperceptible.

Discomfort, ten times more potent than the elbow he’d taken to his sternum, zipped through him. The problem with knowing someone intimately in every way possible was perceiving their thoughts. Identifying what hurt them. Anticipating how they might react to any given situation. Seeing that person at their worst. Having them see you there, too.

This woman had cried maybe a handful of times or less in their acquaintance and consequential relationship.

Yeah, he’d try to foresee the dangers in her life for the rest of his.

The sound of a clearing throat caught his attention. Jordan shuffled in place. “I’ll come back in a minute.”

“Don’t move.” Their words came in unison. A slight smile formed on her face.

That was better. Man, he loved everything about her. Even when things were rocky. The truth filtered into his lungs and made taking a breath a little easier.

She started working the buttons on his dress shirt again as if she could see the possible damage of one pointy elbow without X-ray vision.

“Besides, I’d need more than a minute for that.”

Amanda stopped. Those amber eyes locked on his. A puff of air left her lips. Then she straightened. “Okay, you’re fine. Now, where’s my car?”

“Where’s Paige?” And Eileen?

A hint of something dark rolled across her face before disappearing. “At home. With your sister and Ariana. Cried the whole way there. Cried through dropping my mom off—the staff was in a near panic about her disappearance. Somehow, she managed to remove the alarm bracelet and walk out. They found it in her room.” She crossed her arms over her chest and cupped her hands on her biceps, giving a squeeze. “Paige wouldn’t talk to me as per the usual. Even though I thought maybe we’d turned a corner. Before…”

“I told her to keep her mouth closed. That the three of us were going to have a full-participation discussion later today. And she thinks you’re very angry with her.”

“I am.” Frustration rode every letter.

He got it. The road they were on wasn’t brightly lit. Wasn’t well traveled. There weren’t any signs, but it was imperative they continue onward. “The kind of angry that causes the only constant she knows to throw in the towel.”

Her back straightened. “I would never—” Outrage flared across her face.

That he could work with.

“I’ve never even joked. And maybe if she talked to someone—”

“She’s thirteen.” That agitation started burning again. “It’s not a notoriously great age for being forthcoming. You get that, right?”

“
Thirteen
. Not three. Her communication seemed fine this morning when she told me she wanted to learn more self-defense and that her therapist is only asking her about her biological mother.”

Whoa. What? “I hope that statement is out of context.”

She took a breath. Frustration rode off her in tsunami-type waves. “I haven’t had time to look into it. Either way, it’s unacceptable. Our niece is not there to give her any kind of story.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Every part of him was in agreement, surprised, even, that Amanda hadn’t rushed to the therapist’s office and given the woman more than a piece of her mind. “I assume that was before the incident with your mom? Two steps forward. One step back.” It was more like one half step forward and three back. Or no forward momentum at all.

“Guys, I’m gonna—”

Robinson and Amanda glared at the other man in unison. Jordan closed his mouth.

Amanda pressed her lips together and turned back toward Robinson. “So, Paige is at home—her home. Surrounded by
her
things, with Lilly and her newest best friend. And she’s upset and worried we’ll leave her on the side of the road with a suitcase and some money?”

“No, no, no.” He raised a hand, palm toward her. “Not we. You.
You’re
the first person she came into contact with after captivity.
You
saved her life.”

She was already shaking her head. She stuck her tongue in the corner of her cheek.

“You cut the tracking device from her leg. That’s huge.”