Page 16 of The Saint

“Do you know Beth Tourne?” Amanda asked.

His molars ground. Camden wished both she and Shah would shut their traps.

“Why?”

She clucked. “That wasn’t an answer, Boss Man.”

Jared’s scowl softened the slightest degree. He wasn’t that much older than they were, but he managed to have an old-soul air about him. He also managed to look pissed off most of the time, which made it hard to decipher when he was really irritated. As far as Camden could guess, Jared was actually that irritated all the time. But he didn’t like to be around to find out.

“Beth Tourne?” Jared’s square jaw ticked. “CIA?”

Amanda nodded.

“What do you know?” Jared asked. “Why are you asking?”

Camden noted that he hadn’t given an answer as to whether he knew Beth Tourne. Anyone could have guessed they were speaking of someone on the CIA’s payroll.

“She hasn’t been with them long,” Amanda shared. “Likely establishing a cover.”

“A cover as what?”

“Something froufrou with DC movers and shakers.”

Jared grimaced. “Yeah, no. We haven’t crossed paths.” He turned his attention to Camden, who readied himself for a lecture in which the moral of the story would tell him to focus on work and ignore anything else shouting for his attention. Instead, Jared narrowed his eyes. “If the lady calls again, don’t hang up on her on my account.”

With that, Jared left.

The group waited a minute after the door shut behind him before anyone spoke.

“He knows more than he’s letting on,” Shah said.

“Always does,” Amanda agreed.

Maybe that was true, but that wasn’t what was making energy gather in Camden’s chest. She might call again. His phone buzzed with a notification from Parker Black. Camden swiped the message open and read. His jaw fell open.

“What?” Shah inched closer. “Your face says about a hundred things, and I’m too nosy to wait for you to share.”

He lifted his screen. “Parker sent Amelia Stone’s contact information.”

CHAPTER SIX

“Coming. Coming.” Amelia crawled out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with whoever was ringing the doorbell of her first-floor condo. She’d had her fill of nosy neighbors for the past few days. The news reports had spun Jonathan’s murder and Hailey’s disappearance as a possible domestic dispute. They’d named Amelia as a witness who had mistakenly thought someone had broken in when she heard an unexpected disturbance. Left out of the story were pretty much all the facts about what had actually happened.

For whatever reason, friends and acquaintances thought they should stop by to share condolences when she hadn’t answered their phone calls and text messages. The only calls she’d taken were from Jonathan’s parents, who lived in France. They weren’t exactly her family, but she supposed they were the only things she had left.

The doorbell rang again as she wiped the sleep from her tired eyes. It was so early. Why would anyone stop by at this hour? “Coming!”

She threw open the front door and pulled back abruptly. It wasn’t the nosy neighbor patrol but rather the two men who had notified her of Jonathan’s passing and asked where Hailey was. Amelia caught herself, semi-embarrassed that she had been dangerously close to yelling, “What do you want?” out her front door.

“Ms. Stone.” The man who had caught her elbow when her legs threatened to give out greeted her with a practiced smile. She saw it was meant to make her feel more at ease. Nerves skipped down her spine, and her hackles rose.

“Agent Frank Fitzgerald,” he continued, reintroducing himself. “And this is Agent Michael Bennett.”

They both flipped open their badges and flipped them shut again, giving Amelia just enough time to see how official they were yet not nearly enough time to read what they said. She kept a hand on the front door and had never wished more for a storm door or recording doorbell. Both might be purchases in the near future. “Do you have news about my sister?”

“Could we come in?” Agent Fitzgerald asked.

Tension made her lungs tighten as if the oxygen had been pulled from the fall air. Why didn’t they answer? Her fingers clutched the door. “Did you find her? Is she—” She feared they were notifying her of Hailey’s death. Blood rushed in her ears. Amelia had turned her cell phone ringer off. Maybe they’d called. Maybe—

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