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The more he looked at them, the more he was sure they were the same person—if not, they were definitely related. Anna and Olivia looked very different, but they resembled each other just enough that it had triggered a sense of familiarity. But looking at the pictures of Anna White and Anna King side by side... They had to be the same person.
And this changed everything.
He picked up the phone again. “Max, you originally said Anna White was an alias. Have you found anything more on her?”
“Not really,” Max said. “She has a file as any citizen does, but hers has more gaps in it. Fewer bank accounts, fewer medical records, fewer details. No one except someone like me would see the gaps, but they are there. What’s interesting is that, for the past three years, her profile looks like it should. It’s the years prior that are a little vague—which triggered my curiosity.”
Three years.
Three years since Olivia went missing, three years since their father went into a nursing home, three years since Anna’s overdose.
Three years since Anna White fully came alive.
“Thank you, Max. That’s everything I need at this stage,” Jackson said before he ended the call.
He stared at the images of Anna White taken at Sloan’s. The woman he’d come to know. The woman he couldn’t stop thinking about.
What are you doing, Anna?
If she was Anna King, he could only think of one reason she’d be hanging around with Diaz.
Revenge.
Jackson printed the photograph of Olivia King, folded it, and put it in his pocket. He wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to use it, but an idea gently brewed in his mind. He didn’t like the idea of it, but it would give him the answers he needed.
Until that opportunity came, he’d keep the paper in his back pocket.
He turned his attention back to the computer and opened the second file.
Steven Smith. Male. Thirty-five years old.
A known relative and associate of Diaz, and a long criminal history with a juvenile record to match.
This was the kind of result Jackson had expected—this he could make sense of.
But a young woman working as a surgical technician made no sense to him.
Steven’s death had likely been a result of something he’d done. Jackson thought of Alex, the informant who had been recruited before he’d started on the case. There had been no sign of him since the warehouse raid and he hadn’t returned to his family.
Jackson’s stomach turned over. He was certain Alex was never going to return home, and he vowed he’d resolve this case and put Diaz away for not only his past crimes, but for Alex’s demise too. And for Olivia King and Steven Smith.
And the Jane Does still with forensics.
The world would be a better place with Diaz Smith behind bars.
With nothing else to go on, Jackson returned his attention to the inbox of emails he’d been ignoring all week and caught up on some reports and general paperwork. Being an agent was not all field work. In fact, every time they went on the field, Jackson had days of paperwork to complete.
Eventually, when his desk was clean and his emails sorted, Jackson called it a day. He checked his email one last time, but there was nothing new from Max.
Jackson said goodbye to the few people still in the office, walked to his car, and drove from the unmarked building that looked like an ordinary office to the outside world. The residents across the street had no idea the FBI’s headquarters were right outside their windows.
As Jackson drove through the streets, he found himself wondering what Anna was doing.
Where was she?
Was she with Diaz?
Was she alone?
