He took a sip and then added sugar. “I do like coffee sweet, although, you’re right, the quality is very good. I’m just going to jump right in here and start asking questions, if you don’t mind, Brielle. I have to admit, reading your report, I was astonished at the detail. The depth of information you provided rarely crosses my desk.” He sat back in the chair, looking much less tense, the mug of coffee in his hand, his shrewd eyes studying her. “When did you become interested in investigating such a heinous crime?”
Brielle was happy to see him relaxing. That was the purpose of the more intimate circle with the very comfortable chairs. Outside, the sun had set and night was drawing a shroud around the house, the clouds obscuring any chance of a show of a sliver of the moon.
She had always loved storms and this one was coming in fast. She wished Elie was home already. She knew his plane was in the air. She’d been informed that Stefano and Elie were on their way back and maybe that was what made her so uneasy. She just couldn’t quite put aside the little niggle of unease that kept haunting her.
She pulled her attention back to Asier Fredrick. “I was studying in Barcelona, working for the Ignacio family as their live-in nanny part-time.” Clearly, he was already aware of that information. “I’m one of those people who notices small details. I like to study in small cafeterías. I began to notice that several young women who were regulars like me suddenly stopped coming in. I didn’t think anything of it at first. People move away or find somewhere new to frequent, but one of the women was a friend of mine. I was concerned when she didn’t show up for several days, and I went to her place. That’s when I discovered she was missing. Once I realized she was missing, I started to notice missing persons signs everywhere. Children. Teens. I discreetly talked to some of the people on the street and around the parks, places they might have been taken. I heard that two young women who frequented a kink club had disappeared and I joined that as well. Once there, I was told a waitress who worked there had vanished. The list kept growing. The weird thing to me was that no one seemed to be doing anything about it.”
Deliberately, Brielle took a sip of her coffee, watching him carefully over the rim. Asier Fredrick was definitely good at his job. He appeared to be even more relaxed, but he was paying very close attention to everything she said. He was also aware of Leone and the fact that her bodyguard had positioned himself where he had a clear shot at Fredrick, but the agent would have to make a cross-body shot to even get close to taking down Leone. It didn’t seem to bother him that Leone never took his eyes off him. So far, the agent seemed unaware there was a second bodyguard covering them.
“We were paying attention, but we weren’t collecting enough information to give to our other agencies, until your report. Did you discuss this with anyone else? Your employers perhaps? A friend? Your new husband?”
She frowned and carefully placed her mug on the table. “Why would I do that? I would never put another person in danger, which was clear to me would happen. That was extremely sensitive material. My employers certainly wouldn’t know what to do with something like that, neither would any of my friends. Why in the world would I tell my new husband I was investigating human trafficking in Barcelona? That would be absurd. I turned the report over to people I thought would get it into the right hands—yours—and I left the country. There wasn’t anything more I could do.”
Brielle was very careful of her tone. The agent wasn’t a shadow rider who could hear lies, but in his line of work, he must question people often. He must have ways of knowing when they lied to him.
“So, that’s the end of it for you? Your curiosity will not get the better of you and you won’t try to follow up and see if you can find who took these women and children?”
Brielle sighed, and once more looked out the window at the spinning, dark clouds. She felt like those dark, ominous clouds were trying to tell her Elie wasn’t safe. Her fingers itched to pull out her phone and text him. She would never break protocol just for reassurance. When had she become so needy?
“I’ll admit I think about those lost children and women often. How could I not? But I’m not a trained police officer. I wouldn’t know what to do even if I did find anything more. I didn’t study criminalistics. I studied cooking. Languages.”
“The report you prepared would say otherwise.”
Brielle flung herself back in her chair, the perfect, comfortable chair that always soothed her, but didn’t. Her stomach churned. She had the beginnings of a headache. She never should have allowed the agent into her house, not with Elie gone. She hadn’t expected to have separation anxiety. How completely pathetic was that?