advice. “He has a higher clearance than Hunter does on the police database. It may be your only chance of finding her before it’s too late. If this is Col, he won’t keep Isabelle alive for long.”
The heaviness on my chest eases when Isaac replies, “Regan is here. I’ll call him.” His clipped tone advises my suggestion won’t be easy for him to swallow, but he’s willing to do anything to keep Isabelle safe.
If that’s the case, why is he working with the Popovs? It truly makes no sense.
I stop debating his strangeness when Isaac calls my name.
“Yes.”
A bout of restlessness smacks into me when he mutters, “Thank you for your help. Please keep me updated on Hugo.”
“I will.” With shock stealing my words, I disconnect our call before shifting on my feet to face the first responders. “Give me a sec to grab my belongings so I can ride with you.”
When he attempts to cite an objection to my request, I fan open my coat. I don’t know whether the gun stuffed down the front of my pants convinces him or my credentials. Whatever it is, he agrees to my suggestion remarkably quick.
After dipping my chin in thanks, I hightail it to the spot I left my briefcase.
I could have sworn I hid it between the outside tables, but I can’t see it anywhere. There are no bags on the ground at all.
“Did you see a soft leather briefcase sitting here?” I ask a shaken waiter gathering up the dishes left by the diners who went running when bullets were sprayed. “I left it right here.”
“No, sorry,” she answers with a shake of her head.
“It was right there!” I scream at her, frustrated. “It couldn’t have just vanished.”
“Maybe someone took it?”
“Yeah, maybe someone did.” My voice is more sarcastic than hers, and ten times more furious. “And when I find out who they are, maybe I’ll remove their fingers.” When she swallows harshly, I realize I’m projecting my anger at the wrong person. “Sorry…” After another big exhale, I add, “If anyone hands it in, can you please contact me?”
Her cheeks bloom when I hand her my business card. Grayson said flashing your credentials works well with the ladies. I’ve never had an opportunity to test his theory until now.
“I will, Agent James.” She purrs my name like my no-longer accurate title made me instantly cuter.
Ignoring my intuition warning me she’s planning to use my private cell number for more than to contact me about my briefcase, I race back to the ambulance mounted on the curb. As they race Hugo to Ravenshoe Private, I send a quick message to Phillipa to update her on the current events occurring in Ravenshoe. Although Isaac isn’t a direct target of hers, three of the bodies located at the Shroud family ranch were from Ravenshoe, so the CIA is paying close attention to this region.
Once my email whizzes off to Phillipa’s secure inbox, I dial Grayson’s number then squash my phone to my ear. “Tell them to take a right on Webster. The emergency lane on the interstate has a minivan with a flat. Even with sirens, they won’t get through traffic,” he says, not bothering to issue a greeting.
After passing his instructions onto the driver, and watching him turn right, I ask, “You’ve got eyes on me?”
“Yep.” The ‘P’ pops from his mouth. “I’m piggybacking on Isaac’s hacker’s feed. It’s about time that fucker paid me back. He’s been riding my ass all year.” Keys being stroked sound down the line before Grayson’s gruff moan. “I don’t think Alex will appreciate his morning visitor. Isaac is heading straight for his office building.”
Guilt dangles off my vocal cords when I confess, “I told Isaac to reach out to him.”
“I know. I heard. Good move.”
“Good?” That wasn’t close to the response I was anticipating.
“If Isaac is desperate enough, he’ll make a mistake—”
“That could result in Isabelle’s death,” I interrupt, shouting. “Jesus, Grayson. Have a fucking heart.”
Grayson doesn’t understand the words ‘back down.’ “Two of the females found at Shrouds’ lived in an apartment building owned by Isaac.”
“So? He owns half the damn town.” Even the ambulance officer conducting a range of tests on Hugo hums out an agreement.
My attitude takes a seat when Grayson continues speaking as if I never interrupted him. “And the third victim’s identity was discovered earlier today. Who was she last seen with?” Although he’s asking a question, he doesn’t wait for me to answer him. “Isaac Holt. Reid