Page 44 of Deception

He laughed, and the tightness eased. “Nope. Much to the chagrin of my family, I got a criminal justice degree.”

“They didn’t want you in law enforcement?”

“My mom had a hissy fit. My dad died when I was ten, but before that he made it plain he wanted me to do something in the higher-pay-scale range.”

She frowned. “That was a lot of pressure on you so early.”

“Yeah, and Mom picked up his mantle. Even now, my job isn’t something we discuss around the dinner table at holidays.”

“But you persevered.”

“I did.”

“What did your parents want you to do?”

“From my earliest years in school, I was good in math, so Dad wanted me to be a CPA. He thought they made a lot of money, and maybe they do, but I never saw myself sitting in an office all day.”

“Interesting.” She leaned toward him slightly. “Why did he want you to earn a lot of money?”

“He used to say he grew up so poor he couldn’t pay attention. He didn’t get to go to college.” Because Clayton had come along and ruined that dream. “He wanted more for me than the low-paying jobs he had to take.”

They passed the marker for Loess Bluff. Before she could ask him another question, he said, “And you—were your parents happy about your career choice?”

“Probably about as happy as yours.” Her foot tapped against the floorboard.

They had that in common too.

“My dad wanted me to become a lawyer like him.”

“Why did you go against his wishes?”

Madison shrugged. “I joined mostly to prove to myself I was good enough to get in.”

He could understand that. “I didn’t know the Investigative Services Branch even had a special agent who focused on white-collar crimes until I met you.”

Her foot stilled. “I’ve heard that before.” After a significant pause, she said, “How much farther to Coles Creek?”

“About five miles.” Clayton didn’t understand why she was working white-collar crime after getting the Medal of Valor. Did she have some sort of PTSD from the shooting in Texas? “Do you like it? Working white-collar crime?”

“I’m good at it. I seem to have a talent for spotting bookkeeping irregularities.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“I like it fine,” she said matter-of-factly.

He glanced her way, and she was staring out the side window again. He counted two mile markers in the growing silence until she sighed.

“Just another couple of miles,” he said as the turnoff for Mount Locust came in sight.

“Any word on the person who was with Lindsey Tremont?”

“Afraid not.”

“Maybe Lindsey will be alert enough to tell us where to look for the girl when we return to the hospital.”

“Here’s hoping.” He turned off the Trace into the Coles Creek rest area and drove past his field ranger’s Interceptor that partially blocked the drive.

Clayton parked on the other side of the vehicle, and they climbed out of the SUV. He waved to Brooke, who was sweeping a metal detector back and forth over the parking area.

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