His gaze went to the bathroom door again. Maddie kept insisting he couldn't cope with Eleanor and Hank alone, and maybe she was right. But he also knew there was no one in the Circle close enough to help him at the moment. "Mack's turned up in Taurin Bay. I'll use him if I have to."
"I have a feeling you will need him, cowboy. I suggest you call him now. And keep in touch."
"Will do." The tone of her voice told him her suggestion was more an order. He hung up and glanced at his watch. Six o'clock. Mack should be awake by now. He punched the agent's number.
"Yes?" The gruff tone told him he'd been correct in his guess, but only just.
"Mack, Jon Barnett here."
"Really? What's wrong?"
The sarcastic edge to Mack's voice made him smile. "You asked me to call if I got any information. I'm doing so."
"Wonders never cease," Mack mused dryly. "What have you got?"
"I think you'd better check the background of a woman called Eleanor Dumaresq. She slipped a drug into my drink last night and tried to pump me for information. Might be worth finding out what happened to her late husband, as well as what properties he owned in the area besides the Sherbrook Inn."
"You think she's involved with the missing kids?"
"I think it's likely, but I've no evidence to prove it at this point."
"We'll keep an eye on her." Mack hesitated, and Jon could almost hear the mental gears shifting up a notch. "Heard there was a fire at the inn last night."
The big man's voice was neutral. He knows, Jon thought. "Really?"
"A young woman fitting the description of Madeline Smith was rescued by a man remarkably similar to yourself."
"I wasn't staying at the inn last night."
"Maybe not. But I checked the register, and a Madeline Smith was." Jon swore under his breath. He'd forgotten about the register. Mack continued on. "And two nights ago, you were also registered at the inn—
and staying in the same room."
Jon ran a hand through his hair. He'd better give Mack some information, or he'd haul the two of them in to the station for questioning. Another delay was not what they needed right now.
"She's not involved with the kid's disappearance. She's trying to find him."
"Then why disappear?"
"She's a psychic. And from what I can gather, she has a somewhat strained relationship with the kid's father."
"And a somewhat strained relationship with the police, too. The kid's father isn't the only one convinced that she's responsible for her husband's death." Husband? Maddie had been married? Jon swore softly. "What was the official reason given for his death?"
"Died in a fire."
Jon closed his eyes. It explained so much—her fear, her need to retreat. He wondered if she'd loved the man she'd married and killed. Wondered if the fire had been a mistake, or intentional.
"Mack, I need her help. Can you keep everyone off our backs for a couple of days?"
"I could—if you agree to let me know when you discover any new information."
"Agreed." When he'd let the agent know was an entirely different matter. Despite Seline's warning, he didn't want to bring Mack in just yet. The FBI agent wanted the justice system to take care of Eleanor and Hank, and that simply wasn't an option. Justice wouldn't understand the likes of Eleanor, and it certainly wouldn't be able to hold her.
Only death could do that.
"Good," Mack growled. "I'll be in touch." Jon hung up. At least now they could move around without having to worry about the police spotting Maddie. He frowned and leaned a shoulder against the wall, staring at the bathroom door. Now all he had to do was convince her that the intensity of their kiss had been nothing more than a result of the drug. That it had meant nothing to him, as she meant nothing to him. After the attack on her last night, it was obvious both Eleanor and Hank suspected she was working with him. The longer she stayed in Taurin Bay, the greater the danger to her life.
Acting cold hadn't succeeded in driving her away so far, but he had a suspicion it would eventually. Something in her eyes told him it brought back memories of a past she'd much rather forget. Maybe those memories were of a husband she'd feared enough to kill.