She sat back in her chair, looking around her at the spacious office. She wasn’t certain she would really call this room an office. It was the most extravagant office she’d ever been in. Just like the rest of the house, the office was all hardwood floors, rustic beams and walls of windows overlooking spectacular lake views. She envisioned adding a thick, plush pile rug she could curl her toes in on cold winter days. Already, Elie’s house felt like home to her.
Brielle stood up to stretch and wandered across the gleaming floor to the thick windows to stare out to the lake below her. The lake had a strong chop today. Brielle watched two small powerboats bobbing up and down on the swells as they crossed the lake in the distance. She frowned as she watched them plowing through the waves. Something nagged at her, something to do with the boats.
Going back to her laptop, she sank back down into her very comfortable chair and switched her gaze to the stone fireplace. Like the fireplace in the great room, it was also gas rather than wood burning. She brought up the latest information on the last Colombo family member she’d been working on in Los Angeles. Dino Colombo. He ran the business in the harbor.
Los Angeles. The port. She tapped her finger on her lower lip and once more looked out to the boats as they moved farther away from the house across the expanse of choppy water. In New York’s Santoro crime family, the oldest son, Carlo, also ran the business in the harbor. In Barcelona, where she had first begun to suspect the existence of an active human trafficking ring because of all the missing children and teens, there was also a port.
“A tie-in with ports,” she murmured aloud. “What about the freighters? The Santoro family ultimately owns them. They clearly are shipping to smaller ports like the ones here on Lake Michigan, but what are they shipping to the larger ports? Or are the larger ports, like Barcelona, supplying and then off-loading to smaller ports? What other smaller ports would they be using?”
She stared at her screen for a few more minutes and then leapt up to pace across the hardwood floor to the window. Outside, the sky began to appear troubled with dark clouds forming over the choppy waters. The clouds appeared blue and a deep purple, with breakout orange as the sun set dramatically, streaking red-orange beneath the clouds and reflecting on the water and sand.
Waves raced in angry succession toward the shore, rolling over before reaching the sand, the force creating loud slaps as the water folded over on itself. The wind hit the long stalks of grass growing along the shore, rushing through them so they bowed, first one way and then the next, a carpet of dancing green.
She was on the verge of a major discovery. She could feel it, that same buildup of tension in her stomach as she saw reflected outside in the churning water of the lake. Out of all the crime families to choose from, why had Stefano chosen the Colombo family to be investigated? He could have chosen gangs. Or bookies. Anyone in the world. Why them?
Brielle rushed back to her laptop to break into Dino Colombo’s private email account. She didn’t expect to find anything incriminating there. He wasn’t an idiot. In fact, by all accounts, he was a very intelligent man. She’d taken a look at the ledgers kept on port business and they appeared to be in order. She wasn’t going to get anywhere fast by going through his books. But . . . she knew from looking at his correspondence that she would find a way into his computer. That was all she needed. A way in.
He was a wine connoisseur—or thought he was. He had a buyer who regularly sent him offers for his favorites. One such offer was already in his mailbox unopened. She appropriated the email, attached her program to it quickly and replaced it, knowing Dino would open it because he opened every single one of the emails sent from that buyer. She had only to wait. Antsy now that she knew she was so close, she logged off and set her laptop aside.
She needed to do some stretches and run on the treadmill for a short while, then find more fruit to snack on. Hopefully, when she came back, she’d be in. She glanced out the window at the lake and the beautiful, brooding sky one last time as she retreated. Just inside the door, she stopped abruptly. The two boats she’d been watching earlier were racing across the waves, this time coming straight toward the back of the house to the two piers.
The boats didn’t look as if they were having any trouble handling the crashing waves and the choppy water was far rougher than it had been earlier. Without hesitation, she raced out of the office, pulling out her cell phone and hitting Elie’s name as she ran. He picked up right away. She continued down the stairs, taking two at time.