Jamie took a deep breath as the reporter moved past into her air-conditioned home. The scent of slightly sun-toasted male touched her nose, and her senses lit up. She gestured toward her kitchen, and he nodded, stepped into the cheery room, and then positioned himself against her counter in front of her microwave, arms crossing his chest, his dark green gaze on her.
She frowned. He was in her spot.
Her kitchen immediately felt smaller. Michael Brody wasn’t a big, bulky guy. He was lean but tall with wide shoulders that seemed to take up too much space. Waves of cool composure rolled off him, and frustration tightened her spine. She was being intimidated in her own kitchen. Her chin jerked up.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
He shook his head, and she reached for her Diet Coke can, condensation running down its sides. She took a nervous sip and felt an icy drop land on her chest and start to roll beneath her tank. His gaze locked on the drop, tracing its path.
Jamie brushed at her chest, and Michael’s gaze returned to hers. She glared and he blinked innocently.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
His chest expanded and his face closed off as he spoke. She listened in horror at the events of the morning, her drink forgotten.
“One child’s body is missing?” she whispered. All those bones. Buried all these years. Her eyes smarted.
Michael nodded grimly. “They didn’t find my brother…well, there isn’t a preliminary age match to my brother, and there should be one more…child’s remains.”
Jamie closed her eyes. What was he going through? No closure for his family.
“It’s been so long—”
“Where is Chris?” Michael stopped her apology.
Jamie bit her lip. The last thing Chris would want was the media hounding him again. “I don’t think he’ll want to talk to the media.”
Michael unfolded his arms and leaned toward her. “I’m not here as the media. I’m here as a brother who’s got a lot of questions.”
Jamie shook her head. “Chris doesn’t remember much from back then. He had a pretty bad brain injury, and the doctors believe he blocked everything. He’s never had any memory return.”
“So he says.”
Jamie slammed her can on the counter. “Get out.”
Michael rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just need to hear it from him.”
Seeing red, Jamie pointed at the door. “That way.”
He locked gazes with her, and Jamie’s stomach did a slow warm turn. Michael Brody exuded a hell of a lot of testosterone that was hammering away at her hormones. She squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry about your brother. I’m certain it’s just a matter of time before they find his body.”
Michael’s face blanked, and her heart contracted. She hadn’t meant to speak like a bitch. The words had sounded better in her head.
He pushed away from the counter and brushed past her, avoiding her eyes and leaving that sunshine scent in his wake again. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Jacobs. I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon.”
Jamie caught her breath and turned to follow, but he was already out her door and halfway down the walk. She stopped in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and watched Michael climb into a black Range Rover at the curb. His tires came just short of squealing as he pulled away.
Jamie exhaled and leaned against the frame.
Well. That went real smooth.
Michael pulled to a stop at the end of Jamie’s street, out of sight of her home, and hit a button on his cell to call his invaluable source at the phone company.
“Grace? Brody here. That address I gave you earlier? Any calls go out in the last few seconds?”
He scowled at his cell as he scribbled a number on the back of a napkin. “Where the fuck is that number from?” His writing slowed at her answer. “Really? Who’d want to live out there?”
No wonder he couldn’t find Chris Jacobs. He was hiding out in one of the remotest parts of the state.
“Thanks. You’re a doll. Dig up everything you can on this number for me, okay? I need to know just where I’m going. And I owe you a big one, Grace. Drinks are on me next time.”
Michael felt adrenaline dump into his veins. Time for a trip.