He watched Sharon closely. She’d started nodding as Ava spoke and knew exactly where the interview was going.

“You’re asking if he had affairs.”

“I’m asking if there could be any angry women. Women don’t like to be shut down,” Ava clarified.

Neatly done. Ava had placed all the focus on the women, not Vance, and implied that he’d refused any offers.

“You’re right about women throwing themselves at agents. He called them badge bunnies. The agents I know often compared stories. I’ve heard of them being followed home from work and hit on by witnesses.”

“That’s true for both sexes,” Ava commented with a half smile.

“If Vance was unfaithful, I’m unaware of it,” stated Sharon. “We’ve had our ups and downs like any couple, but I’ve never found a reason to ask him if he’s had an affair. There’s never been a point in our marriage where I was driven to question it.” She looked Zander in the eye. “He always came home to me, and I was happy. I firmly believe he was, too. I’m not saying we had a perfect marriage, but ours hadn’t hit that roadblock yet.”

“It sounds like you had something very solid,” Ava said.

“We did,” Sharon said thoughtfully. “There’s a lot to be said for being content. We didn’t need to travel to islands and party with friends every weekend. We were happy to just be home together. I hated anything to do with basketball, but we both liked to work in the yard and go camping. Doing things together was important to us.” The tears started again, but she smiled through them. Ava brushed her eyes with the back of her hand and returned Sharon’s smile, clearly understanding.

Zander felt alone in the room.

At one point in his life, he’d known that contentment. He missed it. He missed it desperately, but he’d done nothing about it.

It was safer not to risk the pain again.

Sitting in her car in the FBI parking garage after the interview, Ava reread the email from Jayne that Jayne’s therapist had forwarded, searching for subtext. Each time she saw the therapist’s email address appear in her inbox, she caught her breath and her heart stopped.

Every email made two thoughts race through her brain. Is Jayne dead? Is Jayne hurt? She couldn’t stop her reaction. Logic told her that bad news would come via a phone call, not an email, but anxiety still raced through her veins at the sight of the email address.

Mason had suggested the therapist email him instead so he could tell Ava if the messages carried bad news. Ava had refused. It wasn’t a matter of privacy; it was a matter of responsibility.

Jayne was Ava’s baggage.

Mason had promised he would help her shoulder the load, and he had. He’d lifted a lot of Jayne pain and angst from Ava’s mind and heart. After she read each email, she’d forward it to Mason and they’d discuss it. It was good therapy for her and an educational process for him. Mason learned to read the emails through Ava’s eyes. What might seem inconsequential to him could be a sign to Ava that Jayne was struggling.

Ava knew Jayne chose every word with purpose; she wanted to affect Ava in a certain way. The sentences might be delivered in the most casual style possible, but they were deliberate and measured. Jayne could mention the purchase of a purse, and Ava would know it was an attempt to spark jealousy. An indication that Jayne needed to feel she could manipulate Ava’s reactions. It was a grasp for power.

She didn’t realize that Ava was no longer sixteen.

Jayne’s social and emotional skills had frozen during high school. Or earlier.

The emails didn’t make Ava jealous; they made her sad. It crushed her to see that her sister couldn’t relax and simply enjoy her life. For Jayne, every moment of the day was about manipulating people to turn their focus to her. Everything in Jayne’s life needed to circle back around to her. To the point where it had nearly cost her life. Today her email said she was going on a supervised outing to the mall with a few other residents, even though she had very little money to spend. Translation: you should feel sorry for me and send me money.

If you only knew how much I’m already paying.

Ava read the letter a third time. Two paragraphs. Nine sentences. Four of the sentences were about her watercolors. Two were about the shopping trip. Three were about another resident.

A man.

Ava’s heart sank, and she read the personal note the therapist had included at the bottom of the email. She stated that she was encouraged by Jayne’s enthusiasm for pursuing her watercolors. She assured Ava that the male resident Jayne had mentioned was just a friend. He was much younger than Jayne and married. The therapist claimed she was watching the relationship closely.

Ava knew better. A younger man? That meant that Jayne was emotionally closer in age to him. A positive in Jayne’s brain. The fact that her sister had written about this man meant he was constantly in her thoughts, and that she had him in her sights. Ava knew this from long experience with Jayne and men. It was also an attempt to make Ava jealous.

No, thanks.

Nothing would stop her sister from pursuing her goal. That he was married didn’t matter. An all-out assault of interest from Jayne McLane created men who left relationships bobbing in their wake. Solid relationships. Marriages.

They were all vulnerable.

Jayne knew how to get in men’s heads and swing them her way.

Ava started to dial the therapist and froze.

What am I doing?

It’s not my fight.