Page 11 of Can You Take It?

“We’re working on it, sir. We’ve already got the sketch from Izel, and we’ll be looking into her background,” Emily jumps in.

Wilson doesn’t look convinced. “You better solve this, and I mean now. No more fuck-ups, or heads will roll.”

We’re reeling from our dressing-down by Wilson when he drops another bombshell on us. He leans in, his tone low and venomous, and says, “Montclair, she stays on our radar. If she’s a suspect, she’s not leaving our sight. If she’s a victim or a witness, we put her under witness protection, no questions asked.”

We exchange glances, knowing that dealing with witness protection is a whole new level of commitment and resources. Wilson isn’t done, though. “But here’s the thing, Reynolds. If she turns out to not be a victim, the Director’s going to chew us out for wasting all those resources on a potential perp.”

“It’s too early to make a call on her. We can’t just jump to conclusions,” I protest.

Wilson’s icy stare pins me down. “I know. I also know that this is a high-stakes situation, and we can’t afford to be wrong. Montclair could be the key to solving this case or the anchor that drags us down. You need to spend time with her, get her to trust you, and coax out any answers she’s got. The more you’re around her, the more we’ll know.”

I’m about to accept my orders reluctantly when Wilson drops another bombshell. “Reynolds, I want her under your roof. Keep an eye on her at all times.”

I can’t hide my surprise, and I protest loudly, “What? You can’t be serious. You want me to bring her to my house?”

Wilson’s expression doesn’t change. “Did I stutter?”

“It’s against protocol,” I argue.

“Do you think I got to where I am by caring about protocol? Sometimes we have to play hard to get what we need. I don’t give a damn about anything at this point. The only thing that matters is solving this case, no matter what it takes. You’ve got your orders.”

I clench my jaw, my protests falling on deaf ears. This whole situation is getting sicker by the minute, and now it’s about to invade my personal life.

Noah walks into the room, holding the freshly-drawn sketch in his hand. I snatch it from him and lay it out on the table, scrutinizing every line and shadow. This case has gone from messed up to downright crazy.

I’m just getting into the groove, studying every detail when Wilson’s phone rings. He scowls, answers it, and mumbles something about an emergency. He rushes out, leaving us hanging.

I mutter a few choice curses under my breath. Wilson’s never around when we need him. But I can’t waste time whining, so I get back to studying the sketch. Staring at the sketch, I can’t shake the feeling that this guy looks way too young. I profiled him to be in his late fifties to mid-sixties, but according to this drawing, he doesn’t look older than 25, 27 tops. It’s just a bit far-fetched. If the girls are around the same age, this guy could easily charm them, no need to break in and make things more complicated.

I turn to Emily, who’s been working with the database. “Em, run this sketch through our database and see if any match pops up. We need to identify this guy.”

She nods and starts typing away on her computer. I know she’s good at what she does, so I’ve got some hope.

“Also Em,” I call out, “I need a detailed background check on Izel Montclair. Find out everything you can about her, her friends, her activities, anything that seems off.”

I sit back in my chair, running my hands through my hair. The sketch doesn’t match our profile, and now I’ve got an uninvited guest at my house.

Chapter 5

IZEL

I’m sipping on the soda Mr. FBI got me, and all I want is to get the hell out of this place. It’s cramped, it’s stuffy, and it feels like a prison. I’ve had enough, so I decide to make my great escape. I get up, ready to waltz out of the building when a uniformed officer steps in my way, blocking my path.

“Whoa, there, miss. You can’t just walk out of here,” he says, with that no-nonsense cop tone.

I give him a frustrated look, but there’s no arguing with the officer. So, I’m forced to sit back down. I just want to be anywhere but here.

I decide to watch the news on TV. The anchor’s talking about Cassie being found dead. My roommate is gone, and all the emotions I’ve been trying to keep at bay come crashing down. It’s a sickening feeling, and I can’t escape the reality of it.

Then, I feel it. The unmistakable sensation of eyes on me. I slowly glance around, and there he is, SSA Richard Reynolds, standing at the door, studying me like I’m some lab rat. It’senough to make me jump out of my seat, ready to bolt out of this place.

Before I can make my grand escape, he speaks, and it’s like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face.

“You’ll be staying with me.”

I blink, incredulously, like I’ve misheard it. “Say what now?”

He doesn’t say a word, just stares at me with that intense FBI-agent expression. So, I say it, because it needs to be said.

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