Page 93 of Disarming Caine

But I’d be stuck in Brenton, even if this whole thing with Antonio didn’t work out.

“What about storm season? Don’t you need me in adjusting?”

“Sam, at least for the short term, we need you with SIU if we’re going to have a company.”

Dammit. No pressure there.

“Give it a few days. Mull it over.” He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, just as my own was covering my face. “Even if you don’t want a permanent position, but you want to work with SIU, I’ll see what I can swing for a change to the contract with Thompson.”

I stared at the notebook in front of me, as blank as when I’d arrived. “Yeah, I need to think about this.”

“I had a feeling.” His hand traveled to my upper arm, rubbing gently, attempting to calm my nerves. “I already talked this over with Cliff—he’s pissed, by the way—but I asked him to reassign your appointments for the next few days. Take that time off, plus I know you’re on leave for two weeks. But I’ll need the answer when you get back.”

Chapter 31

Samantha

ElliotstoodasIentered the meeting room at the Brenton Police Department, extending a hand. “Sam, good to see you.”

He was a few inches taller than me and possessed a commanding aura. He’d always been clean-shaven with a buzz-cut, but he’d switched to a goatee and had let his hair grow into short sponge twists. His skin was a warm brown, dark, but still several shades lighter than Janelle’s.

“Thanks for seeing me.” I took a seat at the table opposite his laptop. “I have a lot of questions—”

“Slow down.” He chuckled as he shrugged off his black suit jacket to hang it on the back of his chair. “You’ve had a rough week. How’re you holding up?”

“Still standing.” I leaned backward and crossed my legs, trying to contain the tremble shooting through my extremities.

My heart was beating too fast. I was a bad girlfriend. I hadn’t called Antonio to tell him about Matt’s offer—hadn’t called anyone, because it was my choice to make, and I didn’t want the pressure. Plus, I was about to ask an FBI agent about my boyfriend’s family and their possible link to a smuggling ring.

I should have asked Antonio about it, but he’d hidden too many things from me in the past. He swore there’d be no more lies, but I needed to know for sure. “Pretty shitty, to be honest.”

“That sounds more like the truth.” He sat, waking his laptop and the wall-mounted screen at the end of the room. “Distracting yourself with work?”

“Certainly trying to.”

“And Dr. Ferraro? I understand he was hurt yesterday?”

A shiver burst through my chest, icy cold in my veins. Seeing him with the blood covering him. The panic. “He’s alright. Tore open some stitches. His cousin Frank was the one shot but should be out of the hospital by Thursday.”

In my periphery, a change in the glass wall of the meeting room caught my attention. I swiveled to see the smart glass finish switching from clear to frosted opaque for complete privacy.

He hit a button on his laptop and a world map appeared on the television, with easily over a hundred circles of varying sizes across it. The largest ones were concentrated in the United States, but there were several across Europe and Asia, Canada, and a few in South America. The space around Brenton, Lansing, and Detroit was clear.

He stood and walked to the windows, closing the blinds as he spoke. “I know you wanted to talk about the smuggling ring, but I figured we could review the Scott case first, instead of sending you my weekly update by email.”

“A warmup?”

“Exactly.” He grinned as he settled back into his chair. “We’ve had 215 sightings of Olivia and or David Scott since we put out the appeal to the public at the end of August. We’ve had local agents and intelligence sources investigating each one.” He tapped a button and the map changed, showing less than twenty bubbles, the largest around Boston, with a smattering around New York and Montreal. “We’ve narrowed it to thirty-six credible sightings. Most of them are in the Boston area, so that’s where we’re focused.”

Boston. Nathan’s old stomping grounds and home to the Gardner Museum.

“Officer Williams told me you thought they were behind the four shootings in Brenton over the last week?”

“That was my theory until we caught Parker yesterday.” I uncrossed my legs, leaning forward to inspect the map. “I want to believe they paid him off.”

He chuckled. “Because you don’t want to be wrong?”

“Maybe. Have you learned anything from him about the painting at the auction?”