Page 32 of Drowning in Darkness

My hands fly over the keyboard as I dig into his history. His name doesn’t ring any warning bells, but I don’t remember meeting him in my many interrogations.

Me: Is he new?

Camryn: Yes, a transfer. But I did my due diligence.

Me: Why is he there?

Something doesn’t feel right.

Stephanie drapes herself over the chair, creating distance from the agents. I’ve noticed how she favors single seating to avoid accidental touches. Unless she’s plonking herself on my lap.

Camryn: He’s the one heading up the investigation. He wanted to meet and talk to Stephanie in this less threatening environment rather than taking her in.

Logical, and yet...

Me: I want to know when you bring in anyone new.

Camryn: You need to let go of the notion that you have any power.

While that might put me in my place, there wouldn’t be a case without me. No investigation. No inching toward dismantling one of the world’s biggest trafficking rings they’ve tried to infiltrate for years.

Camryn: Louise messaged me. I see you’ve been busy going off-script.

Camryn: Again.

Me: She was breaking apart, and there were plans afoot to take her to the black site.

I’m referring to the place that moves in location, but the purpose remains the same—the killing of people for the entertainment of the rich. Ultimate power over a human life is a high these assholes get addicted to. The thought makes bile rise in my throat.

Camryn: Then you did the right thing.

I know I did. But I feel like one man with a bucket of water who is trying to put out a blazing inferno.

My search on Declan Reid reveals a startling amount of absolutely nothing. Married with two teenagers and a sister who’s a kindergarten teacher at the local suburban school. He’s got a clean exemplary record that should settle my soul, but it does the opposite. I blow up his mug shot and try to remember if I’ve seen him before. I’ve met thousands of men over the years, but I have an excellent memory.

Agent Thompson dishes out playing cards, dealing to everyone but Camryn and the assistant director, who have moved into the kitchen. Stephanie’s brow furrows at their retreating backs. She’s the type you need to keep in the loop, given her power was stolen from her not once but twice. She might not have been raped the second time, but being kidnapped and hung is going to leave its mark on your psyche.

I attach his photo to an email and send it to my sister along with a message begging her to do a thorough analysis on him. If there’s anything, she’ll find it.

Jonathan was excellent at leaving minimal paper trails, but in the electronic world we exist in, there is no hiding when the right people look in the right places. The ones most wouldn’t even consider, and therefore don’t know to hide.

I flick to the external cameras on the side of the house. Nothing untoward. Nothing at all. Which is weird. The world doesn’t exist in a vacuum. I widen my surveillance to the cameras I had installed up and down the street, and include the doorbell feeds on the neighbours.

My gaze snags on a dark van without markings. I do a quick flick through the last five days, not finding it before today, and yet there it sits a few doors down from a hunted woman on the day a new face has appeared to help protect her.

My sister acknowledges my requests and promises to make it her priority, which means I’ll have answers in the next hour. I send another photo of the van and its registration to her and receive a thumbs up, making my lips tilt up.

I don’t tell her often enough, but I am so proud of what she’s done with her life and how she’s dedicated herself to destroying that which took our mother and her innocence. She’s another woman whose light shines despite the horror she experienced. Hunter has softened her edges, but not her resolve. I love that she’s found the passion she deserves. It’s what Stephanie also deserves from someone safe, which rules me out.

I sigh and start my truck, taking the road I need to disappear from the world for a time. I need to gather myself for what’s coming and build up my walls. I can only do that when I’m not under the microscope of the FBI or the organization. Plus, I could sit here all night watching and worrying, which helps no one.

Three hours into the long drive, I pull into a gas station to fuel up. Stalking inside, I grab a basket and stuff it full of the same type of snacks Stephanie picked. I don’t examine too closely why. It’s for research and maybes that will never transpire.

Settled back into the truck, I check all is well with the safe house. It’s quiet. The two agents I don’t know are on duty as Camryn and Agent Thompson sleep. The AD must have left.

Stephanie paces her bedroom floor, waving her hands in the air while dressed in a black silky cami and shorts set that makes my blood heat. Who is she speaking to? I turn up the volume to understand what’s happening.

“I’ll be safe, he says,” she grumbles. “It’s for the best. But he still left. What a freaking idiot.”