Page 74 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

“Of all the rotten things…” Samson said. “Isabelle is at HQ. Thomas called me not five minutes ago that she’s safe and sound. Cooper brought her back.”

Orlando whipped his head back to Samson, whom he was still pinning to the wall. “Call her anyway. You have to warn her. Nelson Sarduni framed me. His real name is Dennis LaRuson.” He looked back at the other three. “Call her, or I’ll make mincemeat out of your boss.”

Gabriel reached into his pocket. “Fine. I’ll call her.”

Tense seconds passed, during which nobody spoke.

“She’s not answering.”

“Then try her burner. The number is 415-555-8834.”

“Isabelle has a burner?” Samson asked through clenched teeth.

“I gave it to her.” He motioned to Gabriel. “Anything?”

“It’s switched off.”

“Fuck!” Orlando cursed. “We have to find her. Now!”

He released Samson and stepped back.

“Cuff him,” Samson ordered.

“Goddamn it, Samson! Don’t you get it? Your daughter is in danger! LaRuson will kill her just to hurt me!”

Amaury and Haven grabbed his arms and bent them back, and despite his strength, he couldn’t prevent them from tying his wrists with silver cuffs behind his back.

“You’re not helping your case,” Samson claimed. “Stop lying to us. It’s over. We know what you did in Montreal, and we have evidence you killed Hong and the Vuber driver. Your car key was in Hong’s house, and your fingerprints were on them. There was a match in AFIS.”

“AFIS? That’s not possible,” Orlando protested, while Haven and Amaury were trying to drag him toward the door. He fought against their hold. “My prints aren’t in AFIS. Not in the US. My prints are only in the Canadian databases. So whoever told you that there was a match to the fingerprint on the car key is lying.”

“Wait,” Samson ordered with a look at Amaury and Haven. “Let’s assume you’re right, and Nelson isn’t who he says he is, how would you know? Have you ever met him?”

Orlando shook his head. “No. But I saw the handwriting.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the coffee table, where he’d left the manila folder. “That’s the Hong murder file. Somebody made notes by hand. It’s the same handwriting as on the anonymous notes I got.”

Samson raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Anonymous notes? You wouldn’t happen to have those handy?”

“I had to give one to somebody to check it for fingerprints, and the other is still in my car.”

“That’s convenient,” Samson said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Damn it, Samson, we’re losing precious time here. Think of Isabelle!”

Samson looked at Gabriel. “Call Thomas. Tell him to make sure that Isabelle doesn’t leave HQ.”

Orlando let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” Then he tipped his chin toward his burner phone that had fallen on the floor during the fight. “The handwriting isn’t everything I found. My contact found fingerprints on the anonymous note I got, and Isabelle was able to match them to a name in the Canadian fingerprint database using the help of a contact she has in Ottawa. When I looked at the Hong file, I saw Nelson Sarduni’s name for the first time, and I figured out that it’s an anagram for Dennis LaRuson. And five minutes ago, a woman I know from back in Montreal sent me a photo of Dennis LaRuson. I’ve never met either man, but you’ve met Nelson Sarduni. And I bet my life that the photo I just received is Sarduni’s. There is a text message on my cell.”

Samson hesitantly walked to where Orlando’s cell had fallen to the floor when the four vampires had stormed the condo. He picked it up.

“It’s locked.”

“4-6-3-4-8-8.”

A moment later, Samson tapped on the screen and scrolled to the text message. He lifted his head to stare at Orlando. “That’s Sarduni’s picture. Fuck!” He took a deep breath. “Who’s Ines?”

“She was my in-laws’ housekeeper in Montreal. She knew LaRuson. He was my wife’s lover.”

“The wife you murdered?”