Page 47 of The Bodyguard

Angela’s chin snapped up. “A shrink?”

Sawyer blinked as though the message had been written in an alien vernacular. “What the hell?”

Her breathing quickened. “I cannot believe she’s doing this.”

“Your mother? What—why?”

Angela pressed her fingertips to her temples and calculated when the federal agent would have left the United States if he intended to meet with her in an hour. “She had other plans for me. Remember? Getting married, yada, yada." An ache drilled at the back of her skull. “They can’t keep me from this job.”

“Maybe that’s not why they want you to meet with someone.”

“Wishful thinking.”

Angela sat at the conference table as the orange glow of the morning sun rose over Abu Dhabi. The rich aroma of expensive coffee filled the well-appointed office suite. She tried not to fidget. Every minute felt like five.

Amanda, filling Angela’s typical role, opened the conference room door and escorted their guest inside. John Patterson was lanky. His rumpled suit matched his tired eyes. She stood to greet him as Amanda ushered him into the conference room.

“Angela Sorenson,” Amanda said by way of introduction, “this is Special Agent John Patterson, FBI.”

“John.” He extended his hand. “Thanks for meeting on such short notice.”

They shook. John’s firm, sure grip was far more enthusiastic than she expected for a man who had hopped on anairplane and gotten halfway across the globe before she’d gone to sleep the night prior.

Did her mother and the Feds mean to catch Angela off guard, or was this simply a matter of miscommunication? She’d spent the last hour talking herself into a tizzy and back to a calm, rational explanation. “I’m sorry that you had to take the red-eye. I’m sure we could’ve handled whatever you need to know over a video conference.”

“Call me old-fashioned, but...” John gestured for her to take a seat. “I like to sit face to face.”

The hand motion irked her. This was her world. Angela handled agendas, booked the meeting rooms, and indicated when guests should take their seats. She pivoted. “I’m going to pour myself a cup of coffee.” She walked toward the coffee service set up along the far wall. “Would you like any?”

He seemed to understand her move. But, of course, he was a shrink—for the Feds, no less. The man was likely hyper-analyzing her every breath. “I’m fine,” he said. “Bouncing back to my regular schedule is easier when I avoid caffeine.”

“Sounds like hell.” She fixed herself a larger cup than she needed. “I guess you’re here because of my mother.”

“She had something to do with it,” John acknowledged. “But we’re more interested in the intel that Parker brought to us.” He sat at the table and waited until she returned. “I understand you’d given it to us before, and we dropped the ball.”

Angela smiled sardonically. “Dropped the ballandmade me feel like an idiot.”

He nodded, removing a small notepad and pen from his suit jacket pocket. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for that to happen, but I’d like to apologize that it did.”

She settled in the chair across from John. “I know you didn’t fly here to issue apologies.”

He clicked his pen as if to agree.

Angela kept her back straight and chin high. Confidence had always been her shield. It hadn’t let her down even when she had to fake it. “What are you looking for that Parker hasn’t already told you?”

“You’re aware that I am a profiler.”

“That you’re a shrink.” She nodded. “I’m aware.”

John’s lips turned upward. “Guilty as charged but not like you might think.” He weighed her silence and then took it as permission to continue. “We build psychological profiles that are used in a variety of ways. For our purposes, I’d like to see what I can do to help narrow the search for Mylene Hathaway.”

“I’ve already shared everything I can think of.”

“Butwehaven’t spoken before.”

Tension needled on her forehead. “And what makes you different from the other profilers and analysts who took what I said, shredded it, and made me feel like a first-class idiot?”

Now, it was time for him to wait in silence. Finally, he shrugged. “I’ve never met or worked with most of the analysts you spoke with previously.” He offered a gentle grin. “I’m not your enemy.”

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