“No one is saying that. Not at all. They’re still balls to the wall trying to find her.”

“It’s been too long, Dad. If she was left outside somewhere, she wouldn’t survive in this cold.”

Mason moved to stand next to his son, fighting the urge to pull him into his arms as if he were a child and hug him until the pain was gone. Jake angrily rubbed his eyes.

“Don’t assume anything, Jake.”

“What’s the deal with that article in the paper this morning? They’re saying you’ve been placed on leave? Is that true?”

Mason’s heart sank. “Yes, that’s happened.”

“How can they do that? They really think you killed that woman?” His son was stunned.

“No, they don’t think I killed her,” Mason started. “There’s some evidence at the scene that makes me look really bad. They have to react to that. They can’t simply ignore it.”

“Why? How bad is it?” Jake looked like his favorite superhero had been shot.

“At first look, it’s bad.” How much should he tell the boy?

“You’re not telling me something. What do you mean first look?”

Mason looked hard at the boy. “My fingerprints are on the murder weapon.”

“What? There has to be a mistake. That can’t be right.”

“I agree. Especially since I know I didn’t do it,” Mason said wryly. “We both know fingerprints can be planted. I’m just waiting for them to figure out what really happened. Someone set this up to make me look bad.”

“They did a good job,” Jake said. “I thought I was going to get sick when I read that. Mom tried to hide it from me, but I found it.”

“The truth will come out,” Mason said. He wasn’t about to tell Jake that the weapon had been one of his practice bats.

“I fucking hate this.”

“Don’t swear. Everybody—”

“Stop telling me not to swear! You swear all the time!” Jake looked him right in the eye, anger burning on his face.

He’s reacting about Henley, not you.

“Swearing doesn’t sound weird when it comes out of my old redneck mouth. You’re a fresh-faced kid. It sounds like you’re trying to be older than you are.” As soon as the words spilled out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Jake turned another shade of red.

Damn.

“I’m not a kid. I’m in college! I can drive, I can vote, and I can go to war. Don’t treat me like I’m a child!”

McKenzie again.

“Look Jake, this isn’t about last night. I’m sure McKenzie’s a nice girl, and I get that it sucks that you can’t go over there. But these are special circumstances, you know? There’s a reason the FBI wants you where they can keep an eye on you.”

Jake slumped. “She makes me feel better. It’s been miserable here for the last few days.”

A thought chilled Mason’s brain. “Uh . . . are you using a condom?”

Horror crossed his son’s face. “Jeez, Dad! No! I mean we haven’t . . . Christ!” Jake spun away and strode in a small circle, shaking his hands like they were wet and making an ugh noise.

Mason blinked. Ugh? Is that for me or the girl? “Uh . . . well if you do, use a condom,” he asserted. There. His parental advice for the decade.

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Jake put his hands over his ears and kept walking in circles.

Mason reached out and grabbed an arm, halting Jake’s trek. “Look at me. I know you’re upset about Henley. We all are. I understand that seeing McKenzie makes you feel better. It’s great when you have that special someone that you can spill your guts to and they don’t judge you. Maybe McKenzie is that person for you right now, but you can talk to her on the phone or text her or video chat. I’m glad you’ve got someone to talk with, because keeping it all in will make you explode.”

Frozen in place, Jake stared at him with wide eyes.

Is he listening?

“You’re not to leave the house without an agent or cop with you. Got it? If Ava’s not available, someone will be,” Mason said.

“I can’t take a cop with me to McKenzie’s house,” his son said. “That’s embarrassing.”

“Then video chat.”

“It’s called Skype, Dad.”

“Whatever,” said Mason, employing one of Jake’s favorite terms. “I’m not letting you fall into the same situation as Henley.”

“But Dad, I can’t walk around with a guard all my life!”

“It’s not for all your life. It’s just for a little while.”

“Until when?” the boy pleaded.

Mason understood. Jake felt he was being treated like a prisoner and a child.

Tough shit.

“Hopefully, not much longer. If this kidnapper is cocky enough to purposefully leave some of Henley’s clothes for us to find, then he’s going to trip himself up soon. The FBI is made up of a lot of really smart people. They’ll find him.”

Jake held his gaze, searching Mason’s eyes for the truth behind his statements. Mason projected as much confidence as he could toward his son.

“Are you sure, Dad?” Jake asked softly, his gaze still begging for assurance.

“I’m positive.”

Mason’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and Jake looked away, the intimacy of their moment destroyed. Mason glanced at his phone and didn’t recognize the number, but noticed it was similar to the numbers at his office.