Chapter Thirteen
“Who’s next on the list?” Easton asked in between bites of a turkey sandwich. He swiveled his chair, fingers poised over the keyboard, waiting for one of them to call out another name. Easton was at the large monitor, while she and Gus flanked him on either side.
“Tina and Roger Moss,” Gus said, reaching over Easton to grab another sandwich from the tray Jules prepared for them.
“Mrs. Moss teaches private piano lessons, and Mr. Moss works in accounting at the bureau. Nothing of note in either one of their histories.” Easton rocked back in the seat and placed both hands on top of his head. “Unless Powers is fucking with us, someone on that list sent us the email.”
Kinley stood and walked over the list. She peered over Gus’s shoulder, reading down the names. They had about five more to investigate.
“Just got an email from Powers,” Easton said, minimizing one tab and opening another. “His team is dusting his office for fingerprints.”
Kinley’s finger paused on one of the names scrawled on the list. “Not gonna find anything.”
“Maybe there’s a partial somewhere.” Gus held up the tray, offering her another sandwich, and she waved him away. There was no way she could eat with her stomach clenching in painful knots. How had she missed it the first time she’d skimmed the list?
“There won’t be.” Kinley crossed her arms over her chest. Perhaps Easton’s instincts had been right where Merry was concerned, but she hated to think of someone so bright and pure having immoral intentions. “If this individual is who I think it is,” she said tapping her index finger on the paper. “He would’ve taken precautions. Pros at his level don’t slip up.”
“Who?” Easton turned to face her.
She liked how he didn’t question her hunch. He trusted her, and damn if it didn’t feel good to have his respect. “Maxwell Calder.”
“Fuck.” Gus sat up straight and leaned in to look at the list.
“Someone fill me in.” Easton rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and refocused on the paper.
“The dispatcher who texted me. Her last name is Calder. I don’t know Merry’s father’s first name, but what are the odds?”
Easton turned back to his keyboard and began typing in the name. Within seconds, pictures of Merry’s father, retired agent Calder, filled the screen. “Moved here in two thousand and sixteen. Give me a sec to pull up his property records. Purchased a home on Lake Boon in Hudson. Less than thirty minutes from the barracks.”
The ringing in her ears drowned out the sound of Easton’s voice. Her chest was tight, the room too small. A strong grip vised around her arm.
“Kins,” Easton barked. He was inches from her, face hard and drawn. The moment she focused on him instead of the impending panic attack, his features softened and he tugged her into his side. “Don’t fight it. Trying to stop or deny it only makes them worse. Breathe through it with me.”
He dropped slowly to his knees, still anchoring her in his embrace, and sat on the floor against the wall. Easton maneuvered her onto his lap, so his solid chest was to her back. When he inhaled, long and deep, his ribcage rose against her spine, and she automatically drew in her own breath. For fifteen minutes, they sat on the floor of the office. She kept glancing at the clock on the wall, relieved and humbled that Easton didn’t try to rush the process of going back to their search just yet. He seemed to know instinctively what she needed. He didn’t rub her back or whisper soothing words. Easton simply circled his arms around her lower waist and locked her against him like a safety belt. He breathed and held on as her heart drilled like a fully automatic unloading a thirty-round magazine. Twice in a matter of two days, Easton witnessed her struggling. He didn’t make her feel weak. He made her feel like a fighter.
At some point, Gus had exchanged a silent look with Easton and gave them privacy. As her pulse evened out, she glanced at the clock once more. Half an hour. Frustration hit her square in the gut. Time they should’ve been formulating a plan to uncover more about Maxwell Calder.
“Don’t go there, Kins.” Easton’s breath caressed her shoulder.
“What do you mean?” She leaned her head back against his chest, giving him more of her weight. She’d been doing that a lot lately. Letting Easton shoulder some of the burden. Shouldn’t have made her feel so cared for, but it did.
“You’re looking at the clock, wondering about wasted time. You’re not a machine. We’ve been on edge all day. Sitting on this floor, breathing, regulating, is exactly where we need to be at this moment.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, not quite sure how to say it meant the world for him to understand on such an intimate level.
“Don’t have to thank me for taking care of you. It feels as natural as breathing.” Now that she was no longer in the midst of a panic attack, she was aware of how well they fit together. His fresh scent filled her nostrils, and she did everything she could to coat her lungs with it. To memorize it because nothing had ever smelled sexier.
An involuntary sigh escaped her lips, blowing up a strand of her hair. As much as she never wanted Easton to let her go, it was time to work. She scooted off of his lap and got to her feet. The panic attack had made her queasy and weak, not that she’d let Easton know. “I’ll call Gus back in.”
“No need.” He tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with an expression that made her already overloaded heart skip a beat.
“Why?”
“He went home with Sasha.” Easton ran both hands down his heavily muscled thighs. Ones that filled out his jeans quite nicely. “Julie left too,” he said, and she tore her gaze away from his lower half. “Gus is taking over the research for a few hours so we can rest.”
“But—” she protested.
“But nothing. We have your back. We’re a team, and we work like one. Let’s go to bed, Kins. I want you tucked into me safe and warm.”