The Girl and the Midnight Murder (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery Book 16) by A.J. Rivers

Author:A.J. Rivers [Rivers, A.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Emma Griffin FBI Mysteries, Season 3, Book 16
Publisher: A.J. Rivers
Published: 2021-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

Two days later, I’m back at Miley Stanford’s house. Xavier’s words are still bouncing around in my head. Find the helpers. Look for the helpers. I’m not entirely sure what he meant by them, but they’ve started to take root a little bit. Maybe not in the way he intended, and maybe not in any way that will actually amount to anything, but I have to have something to go on.

I park in front of the house and stare at it for a few seconds. I’m not really waiting for anything. Or maybe I am. That house has seen a lot. Likely far more than I have even begun to realize. Miley has been missing for well over a year. Her neighbors report to not have realized it because there was someone else living in the house the whole time who looked just like her. I know that person to be Serena, but it still doesn’t make any sense. I still don’t understand why she ended up there, why Jonah chose this house in this neighborhood to hide a refugee from a crime family who he won in a poker game and paid for with a murder.

The house is owned by Miley’s parents, who live overseas. Even when we contacted them to inform them that their daughter had died, or so we thought, they seemed completely unconcerned about it. They didn’t even come home to follow up with authorities. It’s another strange mystery lurking in the shadows of this house.

I get out of my car and pull my jacket around myself to ward off the November chill. It feels colder here than it does in Sherwood. I don’t know if that’s just my imagination or some sort of strange Norman Rockwell-esque hometown magic situation, but it feels distinctly colder in this neighborhood even though we are only a couple of hours apart, and geographically speaking, Sherwood should have a colder climate.

I’m stalling. I’m standing right outside my car, contemplating the weather so that I don’t have to walk up to the door. It’s not the door to the neat, well-cared-for little house in front of me I’m hesitating going to. Instead, it’s the neighbor next door I need to speak with. I don’t want to. I have talked to her before and she’s less than pleasant. But I really don’t care about that. Life in the FBI doesn’t exactly surround you with unicorns and butterflies all the time. I tend to be treated with spite and resistance far more often than I am kindness, so I’m used to it.

It’s what I’m asking her that gives me pause. As much as I want to hear what she has to say, I also don’t. It means opening more doors to delve deeper into Jonah’s life and everything he’s done that I don’t even know about. I already know enough to last me a lifetime. A few lifetimes. But it seems there’s always a need to go deeper. Just when I think I

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