with Ramirez or where your partner was. For now letâs concentrate on the matter at hand.â He drew in a breath. âWeâve got confirmation on the fingerprints. Sorry, Isabella, but itâs definitely your father. You understand Iâm going to have to put you on paid leave for a couple of days while we straighten this out.â
A kind of sadness swirled around her gut and settled inside while tears fought to bleed out. Six years old and waiting, waiting, waiting. But he never cameâ¦
Isabella straightened in her seat. Focus. âHow did he get out?â Her voice sounded tentative as she struggled with emotions she didnât understand. She cleared her throat. âWhy didnât they broadcast a warning on TV?â The question had been burning inside her all night, along with other even more pressing issues.
Like Landry. Somehow sheâd managed to tangle him up in her mess with no easy way of extricating him. She couldnât force him away with the investigation looming over their heads, especially because he clearly wasnât going to go away willingly, even if she wanted him to. Which she did. Didnât she?
Geez, what was up with him anyway? Most men ran fast and hard away from her.
She blew out a breath and tried to focus on what the lieutenant was saying.
ââ¦checking into that. Thereâs been some stonewalling at Stateville.â
The impact of his words finally registered. âWhy?â Even if her father had been in court to testify and had escaped, thereâd be a police BOLO out on him. They also would have broadcast the information to the general public.
Her father was a murderer. Stateville housed the incorrigible, the dregs of society. And damn it, her father had been one of themâthe king screw-up of her whole screwed-up family.
âMaybe they didnât know heâd escaped, so itâs an embarrassment.â
âItâs a maximum security prison, with bed checks and regular head counts. How could they not know heâd escaped?â
Why did the lieutenant keep looking into the two-way mirror? Using the interview room would be standard procedure. But in a straightforward case there wouldnât be any need for a higher-up or a Stateâs Attorney to be on the other side observing.
So why did his eyes keep straying in that direction? And why did the hairs on her arms suddenly stand at attention?
âWeâre still trying to figure that out.â He glanced down at his notes just as the door opened.
Isabella had never seen the man who walked inside, but he had Fed written all over him. Unsmiling, he sat across from her, somehow still managing to keep his posture ramrod straight. Sometimes she wondered if Feds had steel poles implanted into their spines to keep their carriage stiff just so they could give off that âIâm hot stuffâ vibe.
He held out his hand. âFBI Special Agent Malone. Iâm here to ask you a few questions about your father, Tyrone Samuels.â
âWhat do the Feds have to do with this? And why wasnât there a BOLO out on him?â Right now she couldnât think of a single reason why Feds would be involved in her dadâs case. They were like mice. Where there was one, there were another couple waiting in the wings.
âDonât need to answer your questions right now.â He looked cocky and confident when he responded, like all Feds did when they had the upper hand.
And being pissy about it. Then again, from her experience, that was pretty much the norm. The Feds were territorial about their information and their cases. They never gave an inch unless they absolutely had to.
âWhy?â She let the question simmer in the air, hoping against hope it would rattle his cage.
A typical FBI clone, he wore a dark suit, dark tie, white shirt. His short hair sported some grey at the temples. Sheâd guess his age to be around forty-five or
Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén
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