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It feels too much like a hope and a prayer. Neither of which are my style.
“I’m going to concoct some bullshit about the upcoming trip,” I tell them, “and see if I can get Valentina to spend long hours here. I’d like to keep her in this building as much as possible. She’ll be safe while she’s here.”
“Are you going to question Marco?” Zé asks.
The next time I question Marco will be with my knife. I’m certain of it. My gut is churning the way it does when I’m approaching trouble. But I won’t act hastily this time.
“No. And I don’t want to involve Antonio yet either. His patience will be thin, and he’ll want to interrogate Marco right away. I had to let that slimeball walk once. Not doing it again.”
They nod.
“Anything on the breach of the backup system?” I ask Tamar.
“Technically it wasn’t a breach. They got in through Valentina’s account using her password. It doesn’t appear they went anywhere besides her backup data. But my people are still looking, and they’re tracing the digital prints.”
“What’s your gut telling you about this?” I ask the two best minds on my team.
“It’s telling me we should consider all possibilities carefully before dismissing them,” Tamar replies, “including the missing woman in the US and the traffickers. Lexie had a visceral response to that photo. She’s not a flake. But we shouldn’t get distracted by shiny objects that lead us into dead ends.”
“That’s not your gut, Tamar, that’s your brain.” It’s what makes her a valuable member of the team. Zé and I often proceed on instinct and on what experience has taught us—in many ways it’s the same thing.
I turn to Zé. “What about you? See any connection to the traffickers?”
“Marco’s up to something. I feel it in my bones. But trafficking? Those are special fuckers.” He rubs his chin. “I don’t see it. But I’m not confident enough to fully discount it either.”
“Wait a minute,” Tamar mutters from the edge of her chair. “We tried to find the photo from Valentina’s phone. But what about the one from Francesca’s?”
“How are we going to get it?” Zé glares. “The device is probably long gone, and hacking the prime minister is a bad idea. The Italians are still on high alert. Russo has other daughters, and they’re worried about a copycat. They’ll crucify us if you’re caught.”
Not crucify us. Crucify her. That’s why he’s so dismissive. It’s a protective instinct. But from her posture, Tamar’s about to dunk on him.
“I don’t need the phone, or to hack into anything,” she tells Zé with the same look Daniela gets before she tells her husband to take a seat and listen.
“Francesca’s phone was checked for surveillance devices the night she showed up at Sirena’s,” she continues. “I’m sure it was backed up before my team messed with it. It’s protocol.”
I don’t know much about IT protocol. But she’s right about the surveillance devices. We checked both women’s phones. Tamar’s team found a tracker on Francesca’s but nothing on Lexie’s besides the tracker her father had installed.
“You produce that photo, and you have a job for life,” I say in jest. She has a job for life whether or not she wants one.
“Some women have all the luck,” she tosses over her shoulder, striding out of the office. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
I glance at Zé, who clearly doesn’t mind being shown up by her. “What are the chances there’s a backup of Francesca Russo’s phone in our system?”
“If it’s Tamar’s protocol? I’d say near certain. If not, some chump is getting his ass handed to him.”
The muscles in my neck loosen a bit. Identifying the man in the photo could help us determine whether there’s danger, and if so, what kind. But if Marco has anything to do with that ring that almost grabbed Lexie, I’m going to gut him, and I don’t give a shit what Valentina thinks.
56
LEXIE
When Tamar texted me to come to her office, I’d made it through only a few pages of the file on Vera Huntsman—mostly biographical information.
A small part of me was conflicted as I read. I felt like I was snooping into Rafael’s early life, and I doubt he’d like it. It’s a thorny situation and I’m not sure how to handle it. But for now, I have other problems.
When I get to Tamar’s office, Rafael is leaning back on the edge of the conference table, gripping the lip, and Zé’s in a chair.
Rafa winks at me, and I relax.
