Page 175 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
CHAPTER5
ISABELLE
“It isn’t as fancy as the last restaurant we dined at, but you take what you can get.”
A grin curls my lips when I swing my eyes in the direction the voice came from. Ryan is standing in the doorway of the holding cell I’m restrained in. He’s wearing a similar suit to the one he wore when we went on our combined date with Isaac two months ago. Actually, on closer inspection, I think it’sthe suit he wore that night.
His smile competes with the moonlight when he notices my prolonged gawk of his fitted trousers, dress shirt, and tailored jacket combination. “I only just finished working on a case when I picked you up. I didn’t have time to change.”
So, it is the same suit!
Once the officer guarding the door unlocks it, Ryan enters to hand me the packaged sandwich and bottle of water he’s grasping instead of shoving it through the slot. While undoing the top button on his jacket, his eyes dart around at the bare confines I’m calling home for the night. Ravenshoe PD remand chambers remind me of padded cells, except there’s no padding on the white brick walls. A half-wall partially blocks the stainless toilet from the bustling corridor. The toilet has no seat, and the vanity hangs directly above it, meaning I’ll never use the cup chained to the wall to replenish my parched mouth. I’d rather go thirsty than drink from anything housed next to an exposed toilet bowl.
It could be worse. Holding cells are designed to house two dozen inmates. Mercifully, unlike the bustling one across from me, this one only has one occupant—me. I’m huddled in the corner of a bench that stretches three walls. Since the blanket the arresting officer gave me is as thin as my hope, I’ve wrapped my arms around my legs and have my non-bruised cheek resting on my knees.
Once Ryan has finished his brief assessment of the unhomely conditions, he plants his backside on the bench next to me. When bottled cologne and pine trees filter through my nose, I angle my body closer to him, preferring his fresh scent over the nauseating one I’ve been sniffing the past few hours. Ravenshoe PD’s holding cells smell like urinals.
With furrowed brows, Ryan tracks his index finger down my cheek. His touch is so gentle, it can barely be classified as a touch. “What happened to your cheek?”
I screw my face up like a witch about to boil some children. Although I could place the blame for my bruise on the arresting officers’ brutality, at the end of the day, I’m partially to blame for it as well. I was resisting arrest, but only because I was unaware that I was under arrest.
Undeterred by his one-sided conversation, Ryan removes the sandwich from my grasp to remove one half of a cheese and tomato sandwich inside. When he hands it to me, my mouth salivates in anticipation, but it has nothing on the growl my stomach does when he digs a super-size Snickers bar out of his trouser pocket.
“Isaac said it was your favorite chocolate bar.”
I nod, praying the quick bob of my head doesn’t release any of the moisture brimming in my eyes. Even though it isn’t a grand gesture, it shows thoughtfulness on Isaac’s behalf.
“Go on.” Ryan nudges his head to the sandwich, encouraging me to eat it.
I swallow down one-half of the portion with a few swigs of water, but since my stomach is swirling, my usually robust appetite is lacking. When I place the uneaten half back into its packaging, Ryan adjusts his position while grumbling about the bench seat already giving him a dead ass. I can’t help but giggle over his comment. I shoved the rock-hard pillow the arresting officer gave me under my bottom within the first two minutes. Even being as hard as a stone, it has more padding than the bench.
“Ah… the banana split led me astray. I thought the way to your heart was via your stomach. I’m an idiot. I should have dusted off my funny bone instead of scrounging for loose coins at the bottom of my briefcase for a day-old sandwich.”
Ryan’s comment makes me smile, but it doesn’t loosen my lips. He’s not deterred, though. Not in the slightest. He seems like a man who enjoys a challenge—hence, our extremely dangerous one two months ago.
After scratching his chin, his eyes shift to me. “I’m going to be frank. I know Isaac instructed you not to speak to anyone without a lawyer present, but you need to trust me. Isaac requested for me to be placed on this case, but I didn’t do it because he asked. I did it because I don’t believe you’re capable of doing what you’ve been accused of.”
I wait, knowing there’s more.
My intuition is proven right when he says, “But… if you don’t help me, we’re never going to get any further than we are.”
The expression on his face appears neutral, but it’s the concern reflecting in his eyes that causes my greatest concern. He either genuinely needs my help or he’s panicked he went on a date with a cold-blooded killer.
“Are you prosecuting me or defending me?”
“Neither,” he replies immediately. “I’m trying to unearth what happened to Megan. Regardless of her background or what charges may have been brought against her if she hadn’t been killed, she’s still a victim, so she deserves a voice.”
“I agree. I also want to know what happened to her.”
“Then help me, Izzy. Answer some basic questions any regular Joe could answer without a lawyer present. I swear, I’m not here to railroad you. I’m just seeking answers to questions no one is asking.”
I return his prudent stare while contemplating. Although we’ve only interacted once, Regina’s fondness when she divulged his life history before our date assures me he’s a good man. My Uncle Tobias’s knack for spotting trustworthy people a mile away was passed onto Regina, so if she thinks Ryan is a good man, I have no hesitation believing the same thing.
“What do you want to know?”
Ryan looks two seconds from kissing me—again. Instead, he squeezes my shoulder before standing from his seat to yank a notepad out of his jacket. A smile curves my lips high when the removal of his notepad is quickly followed by the removal of his jacket. I peer up at him with shock all over my face when he drapes his jacket around my shoulders.
“You look cold,” he replies to my surprised expression like it’s perfectly normal for him to read me like a book.
