Page 8 of Dangerous Protocol

Maya had to give him credit. He didn’t react, didn’t so much as twitch at finding out she had a daughter. Understandable, really. Why would he care about anything pertaining to her or her life?

She hoped the more he learned, the more he would come to care about her daughter. Mayaneededhim to care about Isla.

She leaned a bit closer and kept her voice low as she told him everything she knew and everything she’d done to find Isla.

“Wait a second.” His brows crunched together. “You live in Sicily?”

“Yes.” And before that, Portugal, Switzerland, Poland, and so many others. “There was buzz that we were spotted, so my handler relocated us to Sicily a little over a year ago.” She felt compelled to add, “Jeffrey, the only thing that could’ve made me leave Sicily was my desperate need for your help and knowing this was a request that needed to be done face-to-face.”

Leaving Sicily, knowing her daughter might reappear there, had nearly killed her, but she’d had no choice.

“And you’re certain she … What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Isla.” She’d named her after the breathtaking River Isla in northeast Scotland.

As a child, Maya’s family had gone there on holiday many times. She used to love sitting on the riverbank, watching the crystal-clear water splash over moss-covered boulders. She’d been captivated by the way a thin layer of mist weaved its way around the tall trees with an almost mystical quality. With the innocence of a child, she’d longed for a fairy or leprechaun to dash out of the woods and surprise her.

To the little girl she once was, River Isla was a special, magical place. She’d always hoped to one day take her daughter there.

His voice drew her from her mental wanderings.

“And you’re certain the last time anyone saw Isla was when she went to meet this person from the Kids Chat messages at the park?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded. “My neighbor, Mrs. Gionetti, was out tending to her small garden and saw Isla leaving our place and asked her where she was off to.”

“Isla confirmed she was headed to the park?” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Yes.” Maya nodded. “She said she was going to meet her friend at the playground.” She told him how Isla didn’t have many friends her own age.

Their current residence was the most recent in a long line of apartments, rental houses, villas, townhomes, and flats that they’d lived in during Isla’s short life. They were never anywhere long enough to grow roots or establish any real meaningful relationships.

“Mrs. Gionetti tried to ask what her friend’s name was, but Isla was already turning the corner. Two men in the park did see her sitting on a bench that day, but no one saw the person she was meeting.”

She twisted to retrieve a photo from the side pocket of her backpack. She looked at it for a long moment and swallowed back the dread of what her child must be enduring, then slid it across the table. “This is Isla.”

Jeffrey stared at the photo for the longest time. He looked up at Maya, down at the photo, back up at Maya.

“How old is she?” Suspicious eyes bored into hers, as if daring her to lie to him.

Maya realized she’d been holding her breath and released it slowly before answering. “She’ll be … twelve in three months.”

She watched and waited while he stared at the photo and calculated the math in his head.

“Eleven … That would mean—”

“Isla is your daughter, Jeffrey.”

He stood so quickly his chair teetered, fell backwards, and crashed to the floor. Silence descended over the coffee shop, and they suddenly became the center of attention.

“Come with me,” he growled, his voice deep and threatening. He snatched up the photo and stormed out the door.

Maya yanked her coat off the back of the chair and picked up her backpack from the floor. She wrestled her coat on as she chased after him. She started into the street but had to stop to allow a car to pass, then quickened her pace to catch up to him. He was already stomping up the three steps to the front door when she got there.

Jeffrey pulled a plastic card from his pocket and tapped it against a small pad next to the door. He leaned over a scanner and the locked disengaged. The level of security was no surprise, considering the man who worked there.

He swung the door open, stepped inside, and waited for her to clear the doorway before locking them inside.

For a split second, she worried whether she would be able to leave of her own accord.

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