Page 81 of Run for Her Life
If there was anything she knew about Aiden, it was that he was very good at breathing down her neck. “The federal prosecutor who sent me the letter died in a shootout. Because Viktor followed me.”
His jaw hung open. “What the fu?—?”
She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him into a corner out of earshot. “I told you that Viktor was stalking me, right? I guess Darren gave him my message, so he decided to come after me himself.”
“And where is Viktor now?” Zoe looked down at her feet, and Aiden understood. “Shit. Sorry, Storm.”
“What do you mean?”
“The truth died with him, didn’t it? You would have preferred him alive, so that you could interrogate him.”
His words slammed into her with a force. She did need Viktor alive. And he could have been. But she had pulled the trigger anyway. It hadn’t been instinct. It hadn’t been necessity. It had been rage. Pure, blinding, volcanic rage. The kind that takes the wheel before you even realize you’ve let go. She could’ve aimed anywhere else. Could’ve dropped him without ending him. But she didn’t.
She chose his head.
“What did that prosecutor say?” Aiden asked suddenly. “Why did he forward that riddle toyou?”
“I… don’t know.” The lie filled her mouth with a sour taste. “I literally got there and the shooting started.”
Aiden opened his mouth when there was an interruption.
“Is there anyone I can talk to?” a ragged, frustrated voice came out of nowhere. “I’m looking for someone,” the man said, his voice tight. “Annabelle. I was told she’s missing.”
Zoe raised a hand. “Over here.”
She didn’t recognize the young man with curly, wet hair, his duffel still slung over one shoulder, a rumpled travel jackethanging open. He looked like he hadn’t slept in two days. His boots splish-splashed on the linoleum floor, leaving a trail of puddles that made Ethan pout.
Zoe stepped forward. “I’m Agent Zoe Storm and this is Dr. Aiden Wesley. We’re from the FBI.”
“I’m Ian Monroe. I’m Annabelle’s…” He raised his eyebrows. “Friend.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” Zoe guided him to a chair. The man was lanky, all long limbs, someone who’d never quite grown out of his teenage slouch. “You just arrived in town?”
“Yeah.” He dropped his duffel bag with a thud. “I took the first flight out from Houston after you guys called me and drove here from Seattle.” His eyes welled with tears. “What happened?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Monroe. But Annabelle was killed,” Aiden said. “We’re investigating her death.”
“What?” He whimpered and covered his face with his hands. Zoe noticed that he didn’t wear a wedding band. But Annabelle did. “What the hell happened? Was it her husband?” His eyes flashed with fury.
“Trevor? Why would you think that?” she said.
“They were fighting a lot.”
“Did she tell you what they were fighting about?” Aiden asked.
“It was mostly work. Oh my God… Can I get some water?” He looked like he was in pain. Aiden slid a water in his direction. They watched him gulp it down. Zoe threw a glance at Aiden and he gave her a grim nod as if confirming that Ian’s grief looked genuine.
“Thanks.” He wiped his mouth. “Trevor was upset that she was working long hours, always on call, sometimes weekends too, when they had a young family. But the company washeading in a new direction. Announcing a video game. She kept telling him it was temporary but he shamed her for working.”
The profile Aiden had put together was potentially of a man who felt threatened or small by successful women. Many thoughts flooded her at once—what if Trevor knew about Jackie through Annabelle? What if Trevor felt less like a man having to take care of the family while Annabelle was the breadwinner?
“I think it was disgusting,” he added.
“So were you and Annabelle… having an affair?” Zoe asked.
“No, no.” His cheeks flushed. “I’m her ex-boyfriend but we were just friends. We grew up together.”
“Why did you break up?”
