A/N: Hello again everyone! It's time for another new chapter! :D

Before we get started, I would like to thank everyone that read last chapter! I would also like to give a huge thank you to suitelifeforever9, winterschild11, Guest, and RainbowDiamonds for reviewing!

I hope you all enjoy!

The next morning I grabbed the phone on the final ring and caught it just before voicemail. "Knight," I mutter and squinted at the time. A little past eleven. God, I never slept that late.

"Good morning, dear." Lucy's voice was entirely too chirpy for my liking. "I left you three messages."

"Sorry," I said with a yawn. "I had a long night."

"Ooh." I could practically hear the eyebrow waggle. "Details, details."

"You mean other than taking a couple of aspirin and climbing into bed by myself?"

"Jesus." She sounded completely repulsed by my lack of social life. That was okay. So was I. "Way to kill my dreams."

I blearily rubbed my eyes. "Is there a point to this? Because there really needs to be a point to this."

"I found a plausible match for John Travis."

"You did?"

"Well, it's a common name, as you can imagine. But this one is the right age and lives in the right location. He's a plumber. Owns a little business in West Palm."

"Any other children?"

"Two. Both girls." She paused as I processed the information. "He also took her to the ER one week before she went missing, late one night, for bruising on her face and arm areas."

My brow furrowed. Well, that certainly sounded promising.

"Say it," she demanded.

I didn't pause. "You're a wizard, Harry," I said with a huff.

"And don't you forget it. He agreed to meet you this afternoon."

"What time?"

"Any time after one. I'm sending you the address."

"Thank you." I yawned and rubbed my hand over my tired eyes. "If you also delivered coffee, I would marry you."

"And if you didn't sleep with men, I'd consider accepting your proposal." I could practically see her cheeky grin. "Talk to you later, babycakes."

"Babycakes?" I growled. Of course she was already gone, so I sent a quick text to James.

John Travis agreed to see us this afternoon. You available?

I'm nearby. I'll swing by and pick you up.

Do I have time for a shower?

If you can keep it under three hours.

I scowled. Yeah, I'd been known to drain a hot water tank or two in my time.

I barely restrained myself from texting back "whatever" and tossed the phone on the dresser. I scrubbed at my eyes some more to make them nice and red. I was in a real whatever kind of mood. Nighttime meetings with ghosts was wreaking havoc with my beauty rest.

I showered and dressed quickly and dialed it down from suit and tie to khakis and a polo. Pressed khakis and a pressed navy Ralph Lauren polo. Hey, one step at a time. I glowered at my crisp reflection. I looked like I was late for prep school, so I undid one button, upgrading my look to camp counselor.

I made my way to the kitchen, looked sadly at the place where my Rivo used to be, and made a cup of tea. While I wanted for James to arrive, I decided to get a little background on John Travis.

I booted up my laptop on the kitchen island and proceeded to do a search for a John Travis on social media sites and came up with what appeared to be a million results. So I narrowed it down to "John Travis plumber" and things started looking up. Travis & Sons Plumbing. Since he didn't actually have any sons, I assumed he was going for folksy. I clicked on his business website and spent the next few minutes learning absolutely nothing. Well, that's not entirely true. I did watch a video about installing a toilet seat, so there was that.

He looked like any other middle-aged man, married with two kids. A little paunchy, but still in relatively good shape. Average height, brown eyes, brown hair. Nothing remarkable. With those ruddy, round cheeks, he didn't look like a killer-he looked like Santa Claus. If Santa Claus was also running a few diagnostic specials throughout the month of October. As far as finding long-lost dads went, he looked like what I'd hope to find.

But pictures only said so much. Just a moment in time. So what did that cheerful exterior hide? Maybe he didn't welcome the thought of someone messing with his well-ordered life. Maybe he was settled and happy and didn't welcome the appearance of another kid. Maybe someone in his life wasn't happy about a kid from another relationship? His wife maybe?

I decided to try my hand at reaching that pesky ghost again. I wanted to talk to Kelsea, but I'd settle for either of them. As usual, my abilities deserted me when I actually tried to use them. Although it wasn't like I'd bothered to do any real training with them. No, I preferred to stuff it as far away as possible and then call it up when I absolutely needed it. Dr. Phil's annoying voice drifted through my mind. "And how's that working out for you?"

Not so well.

I rattled some proverbial ghostly chains for a bit, but neither ghost saw fit to answer my call. Of course. When I wanted them to appear, they had some otherworldly appointment to keep. But when I talked to my supervisor or tried to get laid, it was ghost time.

I tapped my fingers on the copper-veined countertop and thought about a proper search term. Ghost seer? No. I clicked on the internet search bar, typed in a few letters, and snorted as Google progressively guessed what I was after. Psycho? Yeah, a little bit. Psychic? Psychiatrist? Google guessed. Yeah, I probably could use some of those, too. I deleted the term and started again. Medium, I decided, and keyed it in. It was good enough for Trevor, and who would know better what I was than a ghost?

"Did I mean medium pants?" I tapped in some more letters. "Thanks, Google. But no."

I scrolled for a while and read all kinds of things that weren't at all helpful. After I purchased those medium pants-hey, it was a sale-I Googled ghosts. Fifteen minutes later I was somehow watching a YouTube video guaranteed to scare, and I scowled. They should just rename the internet "what the fuck happened to my day" and be done with it.

"Trevor, where the fuck are you?" I grabbed my teacup and headed for the sink. "When I thought you were just a recurring nightmare, you wouldn't leave me alone. When I actually need to talk to you, you're nowhere to be found."

Silence. Yup. Sounds about right. I tossed the mug in the sink. "Trevor!" I called out again. When I turned, I bumped into something solid. Hands held my shoulders and balanced me. I looked up into James' impassive face.

When I would have moved he stilled me effortlessly with those strong hands. Struggling would only make me seem guiltier, so I hung in his grip. I tried for a smile. "Sorry. Didn't see you there."

"Obviously." He finally released me, in no particular hurry. "You about ready?"

"Sure. Just let me get my stuff."

I ignored James' stare and packed my laptop and a few other things into my attache case. The kitchen was quiet as I gathered my things. Really quiet. Too fucking quiet. When I ran the zipper up the track, I could actually hear the teeth coming together.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. "What?"

"I just want to make sure you're okay enough to do this."

"Questioning people about a missing girl? I think I can handle that."

"Just want to make sure you're all right."

"Well, I am." I sent him a pointed look. "And before you ask, I'm not high either." Much. Hey, I have to have a goodbye period, don't I?

"Good for you."

I wasn't fooled in the slightest. Some people happened into a job because of life's circumstances. Some people discovered themselves along the way through other professions. James? I think he's a detective because someone in his family tree was part bloodhound.

"So...who were you talking to earlier?" he finally asked.

"Myself."

"Oh." He nodded as though that made perfect sense. "You call yourself Trevor now?"

"It's my middle name."

"Your middle name is Donald."

I gasped. "You promised not to ever say that name out loud!"

He wasn't phased in the slightest.

"I can't help but notice you're not answering my question."

No, I wasn't, was I? I bit my lip. "Rutabaga."

James eyed me balefully. "So this rutabaga thing...I never asked, but is there a limit to how many you can call?"

"No. And you're not allowed to question the rutabaga."

He nodded. "Fine."

It wasn't fine. I knew it wasn't fine. James didn't know how to cease fire. He just put a silencer on his weapon and kept on shooting.

"Sometimes it's better if you don't know," I muttered. "You just have to trust me on that."

"Trust you?" James scoffed. "That's rich. I don't even really know you. You won't let me."

"I'm an open book."

"Yeah, but that book is fairly incomprehensible."

"Because you tell me everything? Like about Shane? Your father? Where you would go once a month on a long weekend trip to Wilton's Pass?" I bit my lip as his eyes dropped. His strong cheekbones went dark peach, and color spread across his face like a waning, rouge-colored moon.

Damn. What was with me lately? Rehashing ancient history. I scratched my head and felt more than a little embarrassed. There was no point in putting James on the spot. We both knew, especially as members of law enforcement, that there was only one real thing up at Wilton's Pass. A maximum-security correctional facility.

"So you knew." James' voice was flat. "That I visit my father."

"Yes, I knew. I didn't know why until you told me the story about Shane, but I knew where you were going." At his disbelieving look, I held up my hands. "Honest. I figured you would tell me eventually. Besides, I wouldn't abuse agency resources like that." To play online games, get free coffee, and bum the occasional ride in the bureau jet, yes. But to spy on my then-boyfriend? There were some lines even I wouldn't cross.

James sent me an unreadable look. "Is that why you left?"

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where the hell did that come from? That pitch wasn't from left field. That was from slam out of the fucking parking lot. "I left for a job," I said in measured tones. "And apparently you didn't have a map to DC."

"Is that what you wanted me to do? Follow you?"

Was it? No. I wasn't that person. I didn't pull away to make him prove how much he wanted to be together. How much he could handle before he called it quits. Counting on him to close the gap. I didn't. At least, I didn't think I did.

"No." I finally shook my head. "You didn't want to move to DC and long-distance relationships rarely work. That's why we broke up."

James' snort set my teeth on edge. His words even more so. "That's not why we broke up."

"Yeah? What's your take on it?" The ensuing silence wasn't unexpected, but it irritated me nonetheless. "Exactly. So why don't you just stop pretending I'm doing something wrong by not telling you my every thought."

"Every thought?" Incredulous hazel eyes met mine. "I would settle for the top three."

"Okay." I pretended to think. "Number one. Stop being such an asshole. Number two. Stop being such an asshole. Number three-"

James put a hand over my mouth. "Number three and note to self: next time, request a K-9 unit instead of a profiler. They're quieter, cheaper, and more observant."

I narrowed my eyes. I didn't enjoy being muzzled like a nippy dachshund. My tongue flickered out and licked a heated swatch of skin on the offending hand. I was gratified by James' sharp intake of breath as he snatched his hand away. So was the heated look that followed.

"Well." He exhaled strongly. "Then there's that."

"There is that," I agreed.

A quick fuck would go a long way in restoring the morning. It wasn't like we hadn't done it before. On this very kitchen island, in fact. Cool marble against my cheek, the counter biting into my quivering stomach, his hand on the flat of my back as he worked me over with his dick. Just remembering made my breath go shaky.

James stared at me so long that I thought I might get my wish. But then he exhaled a shaky breath and jingled his keys. "We should get going."

We were out of Cheerios. Out of coffee. And now, no morning fuck on the kitchen island. The day was going to hell in a very rickety handbasket. I sighed and shouldered my attache case. "Fine by me."

XxX

My first impression of John Travis was a pair of legs-a pair of legs encased in ragged, worn jeans, sticking out from under the sink. Clinking sounds and muttering resounded from the small, dark space. Cursing, mostly. I cleared my throat after one heartfelt "motherfucker" blistered the air.

"Mr. Travis?"

The sounds immediately stopped, and the legs stilled. "Who wants to know?"

"SSA Knight. And this is Detective Diamond."

He scooted out from under the sink and his knees creaked a bit on the way up as he stood. He grabbed a rag from the countertop, wiped his hands, and eyed our credentials warily. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We wanted to talk to you about your daughter, Kelsea Greene?"

His wary expression hardened. "Look, I agreed to speak with you, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't know if that girl was my daughter or not. She was after me to take one of those home DNA tests, but I was still making up my mind."

"But you were involved with her mother, Dinah Greene? At some point?"

"Sure I was. But that was a long time ago." He tossed the rag on the countertop and crossed his arms. "I moved on. We went our separate ways. Didn't know anything about a baby until this girl pops up."

"How many times did she come to see you?"

"Three or four. After the fourth time, I told her it probably wasn't a good idea for her to keep coming around." He looked at me confidentially. "I have a family, you know."

I didn't look James' way, but I could almost feel his smug satisfaction about digging up family that should've remained buried. I cleared my throat. "I don't suppose she mentioned these meetings to her mother?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Look, I'm not really sure what you're expecting to find here. The kid shows up after god knows how many years, telling me I'm her father and all that. What am I supposed to do?" He gave me a bewildered look. "I have a family."

Second time he'd used that term. He still didn't seem to realize that she was part of that family. I looked at his jovial countenance and felt more betrayed than ever. It was like finding Santa's workshop and busting in on him fucking Rudolph.

Something in my expression must have clued him to my disgust, and he tried on a different tack. "I gave her money, okay? Gave her money to use for school or for college or whatever."

That certainly explained all the extra cash she'd been squirreling away. "Real big of you. Two grand? That ought to get her at least three minutes of tuition."

"Try five grand," he snapped. "I've given her at least that much."

"Let me just shine up your Father of the Year award."

"Fuck you. My thing with Dinah was a long time ago. In the past. A time when we drank a lot and argued even more. The bad old days. I have a new life that doesn't include any of that mess. And like it or not, Kelsea is part of that past."

"Don't you just hate it when kids won't go away? It's like you gave them life or something."

He stepped toward me, clearly out of patience. James growled, a low, menacing sound that made everyone freeze in their tracks. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and lethal and sent a chill down even my spine. "I wouldn't."

I could take care of myself. Travis might be bigger and taller, but with my training, I knew I could probably drop him with little trouble. None of that stopped my neck from warming. I couldn't look at James and tried not to show exactly how touched I was. That no matter what happened between us or what was said, he had my back.

Travis stared at me. His jaw worked as he bunched his fists by his sides. He looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. I just looked at him implacably. "You were saying?"

He glared but didn't move an inch. "If anyone did something to her, it was that guy she brought with her. Looked kind of rough around the edges. Brick? Brian?"

"Brock?"

"Maybe." He shrugged. "Last time she came to see me, I had to take her to the emergency room, she was so beat up. He's the one you should be hassling." When my expression cooled even further, he threw up his hands. "Fine. Suit yourself. I agreed to talk to you guys of my own free will, but I've gotta make a living. You want to find Kelsea, maybe you should talk to someone who knew her a little better than I did."

Like the mailman? A friendly cashier? Anyone she would've come in contact with would've known her better than this man. I bit back any snarky comments. They really wouldn't be helpful and would be just for my own satisfaction. Besides, if we had to talk to Travis again, I wanted it to be voluntary, not by court order.

I nodded curtly as he dropped back under the sink. "We'll do that."

It had been five years. It was time to figure out whether Brock still had an alibi.

XxX

"He's not here."

I raised an eyebrow at the short woman giving me attitude on her porch. She wore a bathrobe and curlers in the middle of the day, which was a tad strange. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"No, I don't." She squinted, her pale blue eyes suspicious and irritated at the same time. "I haven't seen Brock in over a year. And before you ask, I don't know where he went, and he didn't have anything to do with that girl disappearing."

I couldn't help but feel a little deflated, even though her response was about what I expected. Clearly someone had overnighted her a copy of Stock Answers for Suspicious People. "Do you know where he works? Any little detail would be helpful-"

"No, I don't."

Well, that took care of that. I pulled out my card and held it out with a winning smile. "If you hear from him, will you-"

The door slammed in my face. I was lucky it didn't catch my fingers. My winning smile obviously needed work.

I sighed, tucked my card in the doorjamb, headed back to the car, and slid in to find James thumbing through his phone. He glanced up. "You get anything?"

"His mother said he took off over a year ago. Hasn't seen him since."

"You believe her?"

I made an impatient sound. "I'm assuming that's rhetorical. We should have someone stake out the place. Sooner or later she's going to contact him. If nothing else to tell him that the police are asking about him."

"We'll get someone out here." James started up the car. "I just talked to Lucy. She has records of Brock getting paychecks from a local McDonald's."

"Nice." I wasn't the least bit surprised Brock's mother had lied to my face. "Hiding from the police? That's a double checkmark for him on our 'persons of interest' list."

"I still like Kelsea's mom for this."

"Why? Because she let her cat lick the coffee spoon?" I chuckled. "No, that's just why you say no to coffee in random stranger's houses. Besides, there are better suspects to be had. Brock pretty much abused her during their entire relationship."

At least that's what I took "he just got so angry" to mean. I titled my head thoughtfully. "Maybe we should check out some hospitals and clinics and see if they ever saw them."

"If that's the case, it would probably be something in the surrounding counties. To avoid detection."

"I'll have Lucy send us a list. We can split it up with the rest of the team." I sent him a look. "Also I'd like to file a complaint that I am hungry, and as a human being, I require sustenance."

He shook his head at me but looked amused. "Duly noted." I tolerated that little half-smile on his sexy, stubbly, face for a few more moments, and then I finally had to call him on it.

"What?" I asked as I pressed Send on my phone. It made a swooshing sound as my notes whisked off to Lucy's email.

"It's just...hard being with you sometimes."

Wow. I tried my best not to take offense as I slipped my phone back in my pocket. "You really don't pull any punches do you?"

"That's not what I meant. It's just that being with you reminds me of...being with you. We were good together sometimes."

Damn, James was no Lord Byron, but he certainly knew his way around words. Determined to ignore the suspicious lump in my throat, I tried to lighten the mood. "Most of those times involved me on my knees or on my back, Diamond."

He dissolved into a fit of laughter, and I watched him with a faint smile. I wanted to make him laugh all the time and see that mischievous glint in those usually serious eyes. It was then that I realized he was right.

It was hard being with him, too.

Done! We've finally met John Travis and it looks like we'll be meeting Brock soon.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter, as well as if you happened to have a favorite part/moment!

Again, I hope you all enjoyed and that you all are having a great weekend so far! The next chapter will most likely be up either Wednesday or Thursday And for those of you reading Fix You, the next chapter of that will most likely be up on Monday.

Until then!

-Epically Obsessed