"Security division," the younger woman said with a sigh.
The other woman cast a knowing look at Paige. "Some of our younger staff were quite taken with him. Not that it did them any good. A sweet kid, but he kept to himself."
"Do you remember Jason's last name?" Paige asked as she swiveled her chair to the computer behind her.
"Dumas. But he isn't here anymore. He left about six months ago."
Paige paused, the human resources directory on the screen, and looked over at me. I was already on the phone. As I spoke to the HR department, I typed in the proper access codes.
A moment later, Paige was sending a page to the printer. She retrieved it and set it in front of the women.
"Is this the guy you knew as Jason Dumas?"
They nodded. The staff photograph showed a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with a somber face, dark eyes and dark wavy hair, fashionably long.
This man was not Jaz. But there was little doubt he was a relative. A close one.
I moved the two head shots side by side. "Jasper and Jason."
"Jaz and Sonny," Paige murmured. She picked up the kidnap photo of Sonny. "But there's no way, even with prosthetics, that this guy could be--" She pulled over her laptop. A minute of frenetic key tapping. "The answer isn't in there--" She waved at the books littering the table. "It's in here."
I moved behind her. On the screen was the interracial council database.
; "Armen Haig," she said.
"Armen...?"
"I have to call Elena."
HOPE
TRUTH
I stood as close to the railing as I could get without stepping from the shadows. I caught glimpses of Karl as he circumnavigated the park, approaching from the side opposite the playground. A couple of times he looked my way, even shading his eyes once, and I'd lifted my hand, but I could tell he hadn't seen me. The next time I'd slip into the light just long enough to reassure him. That is, if the sun would cooperate. It had gone dark again and--
"Hello, Faith."
My chest constricted at the voice, but I didn't move. Another auditory hallucination. Being here, seeing Sonny, triggered the memory, the voice, the words.
"You don't answer to that anymore? Hope, then. I think I like Hope better. Nuh-uh. Don't reach into your pockets. Hands up where I can see them, as the cops say."
As I pivoted toward the voice, I kept my eyes half closed. Bracing myself? Or denying the obvious as long as I could? Even through half-lidded eyes, though, there was no mistaking who stood before me, though his curls had been cut to just below his ears and his face was devoid of expression in a way I never imagined it could be.
I licked my lips and swallowed hard, trying to conjure up enough moisture to form words.
"Jaz."
The mask shattered then. He smiled, and it was that same smile I knew, slow and sexy, his eyes lighting up. Jaz.
My chest tightened again and my gaze slid down to his hands. To the gun pointed at me. He pulled it back, as if to hide it.
"Sorry, but I figured you might need a little incentive. And I might need a little protection. You may be tiny, but you're fast."
That jaunty tone was so familiar, so Jaz, that my fists clenched and I wanted to fly at him, to pummel him until I couldn't recognize him. The thought, the hate in it, made my bile rise.
"You're upset. I get that and I don't blame you. So here's what we're going to do. First, hand me your purse."