Page 172 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
After working my jaw side to side, I use his guilt to my advantage. “I need you on this case, Ryan. You know as well as I do the corruption that plagues this precinct. I am not calling in a favor or asking for special treatment, I’m merely requesting you to do the job you’re paid to do. The job you say you’re brilliant at. Prove to me how good you are by getting on this case, so you can catch therealperp.”
Yes, I’m goading him into proving his worth, but I’ll do anything if it gets him on Isabelle’s case because he’s as good as he proudly states he is. If taunting doesn’t work, I’ll stroke his ego before backing it up with an offer he won’t be able to turn down. I’ll try every dirty tactic in the book until he agrees to lead this investigation.
After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Ryan shifts his eyes from Isabelle to me. “I’ll call in a favor and get on her case.” I almost fist punch the air until his next set of words steals my thunder. “But I’m not doing this for you. Isabelle. I’m doing it for her…” He nudges his head to Isabelle. “… and Regina.”
I nod, successfully concealing the tick my jaw got from his statement. Now is not the time for jealousy to erupt. Call me vain, but I don’t have many weaknesses—except when it comes to other people showing an interest in Isabelle. That flaw is virulent. Isabelle is mine, and I want the world to know that.
Not long later, two police officers enter the interrogation room to re-shackle Isabelle. Dread burrows in my chest when her frightened eyes turn to mine a mere second before she’s ushered out of the room.
After demanding for Isabelle to remain quiet, Regan shifts on her feet to face the two-way mirror. Unlike Isabelle, she isn’t staring straight at me. “She’s all right. Stay where you are. I’ll return to update you the instant I get her settled.”
Even though she can’t see me, I nod. Within seconds of me doing so, she chases down Isabelle. When chains being dragged over a tiled-floor boom into my ears, I clench and unclench my fists, striving to keep my focus on the grime-covered light switch at the side of the room, instead of rushing to Isabelle’s defense. Brutalizing the men arresting Isabelle won’t do anyone any good, but I’m itching to jump in and defend her.
Sensing my slip in composure, Ryan gives my shoulder a reaffirming squeeze. “I’ll go find out what’s going on. While I do that, remain calm and stay out of sight.”
It frustrates the hell out of me, but I once again nod. I’ve never felt as useless as I do right now. Isabelle needs all the support she can get, yet I’m in an observation room, twiddling my thumbs while everyone else aids her.
As I drag my hand over my head, my mind struggles to compile all the mammoth events that have happened the past forty-eight hours. It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. Nothing makes sense, but I’m confident Isabelle didn’t kill Megan. Her truthful eyes would have exposed her deceit. She didn’t do what they’re accusing her of. She’s innocent, so I’ll do everything in my power to see her walk free without charges, and I know the best place to start my campaign.
After pulling my cell out of my pocket, I dial a memorized number. After a few seconds, Hunter answers. “Boss.”
“What’s the latest?”
“Megan’s hotel room has been cordoned off, and a CSI team has been brought in from Hopeton. Locals are saying it’s a homicide.” His tone doesn’t give anything away. He’s an expert at keeping his thoughts guarded.
“Has anyone said how she was killed?”
“No.” He goes quiet, but I can hear his brain ticking over, no doubt struggling to work out how to ask his next question without it sounding bad. He should have deliberated a little longer. “Did you call in afavor?”
My teeth grit. “No.”
In my industry, the sacrifices I’d have to evoke for entreating a favorlike that would be immense. That’s why it was never considered while devising a way to handleMegan’s obsession with my brother. She was going to be handled in-house. I just hadn’t worked out exactly what that would entail before a much more urgent situation arose.
Hunter’s boots clomping along the pavement thuds down the line a mere second before a door sliding open overtakes his deep pants of breaths. “Something about this doesn’t seem right.” The same sliding noise shrills into my ears for the second time, but more as if a door is being shut with force than being opened. He must have climbed into his van to ensure we have privacy. “This looks mob-related.”
My pulse spikes as I freeze like a statue. “What makes you say that?”
His voice echoes in the tight confines of his security van. “I was talking to a homeless guy who sleeps by a dumpster near the motel. He kept rambling on about a girl in the yellow car and how she went to sleep after they put a cloth on her mouth. He hardly made any sense, but he repeated that statement over and over again.”
“What type of car does Megan drive?”
I hear him scrub his hand over his beard as he replies, “A yellow Chevrolet Sonic. And before you ask, no, it isn’t in the parking lot of her motel.”
“Is there a body?”
Hunter sharply inhales as shocked by my bluntness as me. I’m always forthright, but I’m not usually so callous when asking for details on someone’s murder. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Because if her death is related to Col Petretti, his crew wouldn’t have left a body.” The anger shredding my veins of normality is heard in my reply.
“I don’t even want to know how you even know that.” Hunter’s breathing lengthens as the sound of an engine kicking over breaks up his words. “Are you at your office? I need to access your servers.”
“No, I’m at Ravenshoe PD. I’ll send Hugo there to give you the access you need.”
Talking about Hugo, where the fuck is he? I haven’t seen him since I shadowed Ryan to the block of interrogation rooms at the back of Ravenshoe PD headquarters over an hour ago.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” Hunter’s voice is rife with suspicion.
As my eyes shift to the shackles piled in the interrogation room, I attempt to swallow the brick in my throat. “They arrested Isabelle for the murder of Megan.” I have to strangle my words out since they’re trapped in my throat by the brick I’m trying to dislodge.
