Page 111 of The Voice We Find

And my jaw falls slack.

It takes me a moment to place him in this new setting, seeing as he’s no longer wearing a three-piece designer suit or asking me for a private tour of the wine cellar or chauffeuring my brother around in his brand-new Mercedes G-Wagon.

Or leaving my sister-in-law’s house around midnight.

The Clinton Owens in front of me looks far too authoritative to discuss the finer points of a quality wine aerator.

“Clinton—?”

“I’m Agent Terrell.” In a fluid movement, he extends his arm to indicate the hallway on the far left of the station. “I can take you to see Natalie now, if you’ll please follow me.”

A dozen questions ribbon through my brain at once. “Wait, you said agent ... as in FBI?”

He confirms with a single bob of his head.

I can’t quite catch my breath. “So then you don’t work in stocks?”

“Afraid not, ma’am.” I swear I spot a hint of a smile before he repeats himself. “Please, just follow me.”

I clutch my purse to my abdomen and trail closely behind him.

“What is going on?” I ask in a hushed tone as I ignore the obnoxious catcalls coming from the waiting room we just crossed. “What happened tonight? Is Natalie hurt? Did my brother...?” I don’t finish as I picture the ultrasound image Natalie showed me last week. I wonder if Jasper found out. Even though she does her best to keep her baby bump covered, it’s there. “Did he—” Stop. Don’t go there.

When Agent Terrell answers exactly none of my questions, I get the distinct impression his silence is strategic. Okay, fine. I can play that game. For a time, at least.

The hallway he leads me down is narrow, with numbered doors on our left-hand side. As we pass door number six, it opens, and a woman in a navy blazer and slacks slips out. Only before she can close it behind her, I hear a voice that sends a shockwave down my spine.

“You’re making a huge mistake,Principessa. This isexactlywhy a woman shouldn’t be sent to do a man’s job!”

I whip my head around just as the door latches closed, but the movement is disorienting enough to throw my entire equilibrium off balance. Or perhaps it’s the voice that does that. I catch myself on the opposite wall, though it’s not quite supportive enough to keep my knees from buckling under my weight.

“Miss? Miss, are you alright?” The woman rushes to my side as the tight-lipped Agent Terrell reverses direction to grip my opposite elbow and help me stand.

The woman with the slicked-back bun and blazer steps to my other side, shielding me from passersby.

“Are you hurt?” Agent Terrell asks.

I open my mouth, but when no sound comes out, I resort to pointing at the door across the hall.

The woman follows my finger, and then eyes the agent curiously. I don’t miss the intrigue that flares in each of their gazes.

“W-w-who is that?” I ask. “The man inside that room?”

“Why?” Agent Terrell lowers his voice and speaks in a measured tone. “Do you know him?”

“No.” I swallow, desperately trying to return the moisture to my mouth. “But I do know his voice.” I’d bet the sizable balance of my family’s trust on it. Italian accents aren’t commonplace in our area, but it was the derogatory way he’d said the wordPrincipessathat triggered my memory.

“Scream all you want down here, Principessa. Nobody will hear you.”

I’ve replayed that statement a thousand times over the last decade. It was the same voice. The same man who was never convicted of locking me in a cellar for the thrill of a stolen vintage bottle of wine.

Despite the hard knock in my chest, I force out the rest. “Ten years ago, I was attacked in my family’s place of business during a break-in. I was locked in a cellar for forty hours. The investigation was eventually dismissed, but I’mpositiveI remember that voice—hisvoice.”

The woman tilts her head to the side appraisingly. “You’re Sophie Wilder.” There’s something akin to awe in the way she says it, but I have absolutely no clue as to why. I’m certain I’ve never seen her before in my life. “I didn’t recognize you through all that stage makeup.”

“H-how do you know my name? Who are you?”

The inquisitive glance shared between these two professionals shifts into a nod of validation.

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