time you see him. Or better yet, why don’t you call him now, and I’ll let him know if he had put as much effort into safeguarding his family as he does in controlling Ms. Brahn, his sister-in-law wouldn’t have almost bled-out giving birth to his nephew.” The last half of my comment is more a reflection of my failure to safeguard my family than Isaac’s, but with my mood the lowest it’s been in years, I’ve got to release some of it before I crack.
“I’ll be sure to pass on your message, Mr. James. Have a pleasant afternoon.” The security officer peers at Isabelle over my shoulder for the quickest second before he returns to the office his sidekicks absconded to when they begged their supervisor to back up their claim that Isabelle isn’t allowed any visitors.
After a second exhale, I bridge the gap between Isabelle and me. As my shoes click against the gleaming marble tiles in the lobby of her building, I try to shake off my funk. The short length of my strides does me no good. You can hear the annoyance in my tone, much less feel it vibrating out of me when I snarl at Isabelle. “Are you aware no one can gain access to your floor without it first being approved by Isaac?”
Isabelle is quick to tuck it away, but I see shock dart through her eyes before she fully shuts it down. “No, I wasn’t aware of that, but it does sound like something Isaac would do.” She mumbles her last sentence under her breath.
“Not even an agent, for fuck’s sake.” I grit my teeth when my words come out with a roar. I’m annoyed and tired, but Isabelle doesn’t deserve the wrath of my anger. She could have boarded the lets-hate-Brandon train back at Parkerville when Isaac arrived in the middle of the night. Instead, she told Isaac she trusts me as I do her.
Noticing the anger enveloping every inch of me is weakening, Isabelle asks, “What’s going on, Brandon? You seem a bit stressed? Is it because I bailed on you at Parkerville? I’m sorry about that, I just wasn’t—”
“Don’t apologize, Izzy,” I interrupt, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
When I spot the security officer I was tussling with earlier eyeballing our exchange, I guide Isabelle to a bank of chairs lining the lobby of her building. After planting my backside on a chair as I wish I could a bed, I scrub the back of my hand over my tired eyes. Have you ever been awake so long, you have a hard time separating reality from fiction? That’s me right now. I’ve barely had more than three hours of sleep a night for over a week. I’m wrecked.
Isabelle plops into the chair next to me before bracing her knee against mine. “What’s going on?”
With more knowledge than I have time, I push out, “Carlyle Shroud’s death came back as a homicide.”
Isabelle’s throat works hard to swallow as her eyes widen. “But he was…” After a second swallow, she adds, “… hanging.”
“I know, but the coroner determined he died before then. They found poison in the food scraps in the kitchen. It looks like whoever killed him did it slowly in the hope it wouldn’t be noticed by the authorities.”
Isabelle looks like she can’t take much more, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have a choice. Even excluding Carlyle’s purchase almost three decades ago, Harvey and I found links between the Shrouds, the Castros, and the man I know Isabelle is in a sexual relationship with.
Although I could pass on my findings to Alex, this investigation puts me one step closer to finding out what really happened to Joey. Just the thought of getting closure on his death has me taking risks I’d usually steer well clear of.
“It gets worse…” After a quick swallow to relieve my parched throat, I disclose, “Megan Shroud is in Ravenshoe. She has been for the past week.”
Isabelle’s pupils dilate to the size of saucers. “How? We had protocols in place to ensure we knew her whereabouts.”
“We did. Every database in the country was fixated on her. She must not have used public transportation or hired a car.” The pitch of my tone reveals I’m as lost as her. If it wasn’t for Phillipa sighting Megan during my drive back to Ravenshoe this afternoon, I wouldn’t have known she was back. The system is failing, and it’s failing badly.
With her head in agent mode, Isabelle asks,