Page 13 of The Saint

“Four stupid words will keep you on the phone with me?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Camden. I know it’s you from last night.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He should disconnect the call, yet curiosity didn’t let him.

She let out a bone-crushingly exhausted breath. “Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart. Does that make you happy?”

The corners of his lips quirked. He chuckled. “Not sure about happy, but my bases are covered.”

“So, it’s Camden, right?”

“Yeah, Amelia. That’s me.”

“You remember my name?”

Amanda and Shah inched closer. Camden wanted to shoo them away. “Yeah, I remember your name. I don’t usually sit and answer calls, and even if I did, yours will probably be one of the most interesting I’d ever get. So, yeah, I remember your name.” He probably always would. Her story would stick with him.

“I’ve been redialing this number over and over,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t you.”

His index finger tapped against the handset. “I have no idea how many other places take these calls. But it’s probably a few.”

“Everyone hangs up on me.”

He laughed and wondered how many times she’d called. Had she given the passcode each time? Or asked for him by name? The CIA could be tracking her calls. Jared could.

“You’re not supposed to call this number if there isn’t an emergency.”

“Don’t hang up,” she pleaded. “Please.”

His index finger tapped again. This was a test—one he was certain he was already failing.Goodbye, Titan career. Hello… motel security?That would be all that he would get if Boss Man deemed he’d screwed up with a CIA asset—or an asset’s family member. But he still hadn’t hung up. “Why are you looking for me?”

“No one will tell me anything.”

He almost laughed. “I can’t tell you. Even if I knew. Which I don’t.”

“You knew enough to listen to ‘Banana. Light bulb. Chicken. Heart.’ Or whatever. That’s more than anyone else.”

He ran a hand over his face like he could scrub away his hesitation. Camden wasn’t one to overthink. Amanda and Shah were watching him in a way that made the room feel small. “You shouldn’t…”What? Say that? What did it matter?“I should go—”

“My sister is missing. My brother-in-law is dead,” she whispered. “I talked to investigators, and they act as though I’m hiding Hailey in my back pocket. And there are these people… They say they worked with my sister. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t have any answers, and the things that I have been told are… They just don’t make sense.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t help you.”

“Where are you?” After a moment, she let out a defeated breath. “Of course, you can’t tell me that. No one can tell me anything.”

“I need to keep this line open—”

She scoffed. “Right. Because whoever you are, wherever you work, you want me to believe that you don’t have call waiting? Even if I didn’t call a hundred times before I foundyou and talk to a hundred different people, do you expect me to believe that your super-secret call center doesn’t have more than one phone line for your super-secret bullshit? Got it.”

His lips quirked. Camden dropped his head back and stared at the lights in the ceiling. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. No one would tell her anything other than an approved cover story, and no matter what they told Amelia, a well-thought-out cover story wouldn’t matter if there wasn’t a body to bury. Missing people were almost harder to process than murdered ones. The lack of a body meant hope. Hope wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t kind. It was a torment that loved ones fought against, praying that one day, life would return to normal. Most times, it never did.

“I’m going to find my sister.” She paused as though expecting him to shoo her away from the plan. But he didn’t, and Amelia grumbled. “Lord knows no one else is doing anything to help Hailey—”

“You don’t know that.” The CIA tracked its assets. If one went off the grid, they would dedicate resources to resolving the situation and, if need be and circumstances allowed, the recovery of remains.

“I thought you could help me.”

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