Voice quieter than it had been, Alex said, “Sounds like you’ve got more problems than straightening out this mess.”
Jon rolled his jaw. “You’re aware of the uptick in missing women in the area, I assume?”
Alex arched a brow at the question. “I do live around here.”
Jenna stomped back up to his side, steam all but billowing off her head. “How much trouble do you think you’d get in if you punched a sheriff or one of his deputies straight in the face?”
Both of Jon’s brows leapt up his forehead.
Alex barked out a laugh.
Jon might have reacted that way, too, normally. But the anger radiating off her kept his humor in check, so he said, “Depends on the circumstances. I am technically a civilian now.”
Jenna huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, maybe you can afford a lawyer afterIslug him, then.”
Jon reached over and settled a hand at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer and lowering his voice. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t. Let’s finish this up, then you can tell me what that dumbfuck did this time.” He had a growing suspicion, but the lobby of someone else’s business was hardly the place for any of that conversation.
Alex didn’t seem to agree. “What does this have to do with the missing women?”
Jenna looked up, her gaze bouncing between Alex and Jon. Finally, she said, “One of my employees disappeared the other night. A nineteen-year-old girl. That was her mother who called. She’s finally admitting that this doesn’t feel like something Steph would do—she shut us out when we tried talking to her yesterday—so about an hour ago she called to make a formal missing person’s report.”
Jon felt his brow dip. A formal report was good. Necessary, even. But Jenna would know that, so he doubted it was why she was upset.
Jenna sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Leeland County Sheriff’s Office is staffed by bullies. Martha had the misfortune of getting the same bitch I’ve been dealing with all week, and Deputy Bitch told her that Steph’s a legal adult and therefore allowed to come and go whenever she wants. That they’re ‘too busy to prioritize every clingy parent who can’t deal with empty nest syndrome’ and yes, that’s apparently exactly what she said.”
Alex cursed.
Jon shared the sentiment, but instead of voicing it, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the top of Jenna’s head. “Do you mind being my local point of contact until I find a place? You’ll have to sign some things, but it’s just for record purposes. It’s the only way I can get into this locker and move forward.” It didn’t feel important in the grand scheme of things, but they were already there. Their entire trip to Campbell’s would have been a waste of time if they left as things were.
He could feel Jenna re-orienting herself for the few seconds it took her to respond before she gave herself a subtle shake, then bobbed her head. “Yeah, that’s fine.” She looked outward again. “What do I need to sign?”
Alex had shuffled the papers previously set out on the counter, removing one stack, adding another, and setting both side-by-side. He indicated one. “I’ll need your information here, ma’am.” He indicated the other. “This set’s for you, Jarhead.”
Jon’s lips twitched. He released his hold on Jenna so they could step up to the counter simultaneously and set to work. And while he filled in information and initialed acknowledgment of common-sense rules, his mind wandered.
People disappeared every day, but he’d come home to a spike severe enough that the radio newscasters were talking about it every damn time he turned the thing on. And Jenna had researched some quick information on the way to Martha’s the night before. Even without the current rise, Oregon had a problem. It consistently had one of the highest disappearance rates in the country. That wasn’t the kind of thing Jon had been cognizant of as a teen in a small-ass town.
As a grown man, with useful skills, he felt like he ought to be doing something about it. Not just because the latest victim might well be a girl who worked for and meant something to his woman—but hell, there was nothing wrong with that reason, either.
His fingers gripped the pen a little tighter.
Then there was the other primary problem. Jenna’s mysterious home invader. Jon didn’t think it was likely the culprit was much of a mystery, but having a suspect didn’t mean he knew where or how to find the bastard. What it did mean was that he’d be spending every night staking out her apartment if she insisted on being stubbornly independent. Hecouldn’tletthe threat of that go unaddressed, whether it proved to be her ex or not.
He hoped it did, just so he could beat the shit out of the fucker.
Jenna was right. He was going to need a lawyer.
He tucked the papers neatly in line once he’d scrawled his name at the bottom, and his eye caught on the information on the lower third of the page. Since he was using Jenna effectively as his homebase, he’d opted to list Lance as his emergency contact. The emergency contact didn’t need a physical address. But as he stared at his idiot friend’s name on the paper, something Lance had said in their second or third week stateside replayed in his memory.
“We could totally be superheroes.” His shit-eating grin stretched wider than the taco he’d lowered in order to say the words.
Jon gave him his best the-fuck-are-you-on? look and replied, “We just lost our jobs because the public’s losing its collective mind over ‘non-ordinary humans’, and you want to start running around in spandex like you just walked out of a fucking comic book?” He bent over his own meal. “Good luck with that. I think I’ll stick with something more mundane.”
Lance had not appreciated Jon’s response and spent three days giving him shit for it. Not that Jon cared. A bad idea was a bad idea.
It was still a bad idea.
But maybe they could find a better middle ground than Jon had originally considered…. Jon spent a moment watching Jenna finish up her papers, then shifted his focus out to Alex. “Any chance you know some warm bodies in the area looking to work their asses off?”
