Page 32 of Quiet Protector
Isabelle is quick to tuck it away, but I see shock dart through her eyes before she fully shuts it down. “No, I wasn’t aware of that, but it does sound like something Isaac would do.” She mumbles her last sentence under her breath.
“Not even an agent, for fuck’s sake.” I grit my teeth when my words come out with a roar. I’m annoyed and tired, but Isabelle doesn’t deserve the wrath of my anger. She could have boarded the lets-hate-Brandon train back at Parkerville when Isaac arrived in the middle of the night. Instead, she told Isaac she trusts me as I do her.
Noticing the anger enveloping every inch of me is weakening, Isabelle asks, “What’s going on, Brandon? You seem a bit stressed? Is it because I bailed on you at Parkerville? I’m sorry about that, I just wasn’t—”
“Don’t apologize, Izzy,” I interrupt, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
When I spot the security officer I was tussling with earlier eyeballing our exchange, I guide Isabelle to a bank of chairs lining the lobby of her building. After planting my backside on a chair as I wish I could a bed, I scrub the back of my hand over my tired eyes. Have you ever been awake so long, you have a hard time separating reality from fiction? That’s me right now. I’ve barely had more than three hours of sleep a night for over a week. I’m wrecked.
Isabelle plops into the chair next to me before bracing her knee against mine. “What’s going on?”
With more knowledge than I have time, I push out, “Carlyle Shroud’s death came back as a homicide.”
Isabelle’s throat works hard to swallow as her eyes widen. “But he was…” After a second swallow, she adds, “…hanging.”
“I know, but the coroner determined he died before then. They found poison in the food scraps in the kitchen. It looks like whoever killed him did it slowly in the hope it wouldn’t be noticed by the authorities.”
Isabelle looks like she can’t take much more, but unfortunately, she doesn’t have a choice. Even excluding Carlyle’s purchase almost three decades ago, Harvey and I found links between the Shrouds, the Castros, and the man I know Isabelle is in a sexual relationship with.
Although I could pass on my findings to Alex, this investigation puts me one step closer to finding out what really happened to Joey. Just the thought of getting closure on his death has me taking risks I’d usually steer well clear of.
“It gets worse…” After a quick swallow to relieve my parched throat, I disclose, “Megan Shroud is in Ravenshoe. She has been for the past week.”
Isabelle’s pupils dilate to the size of saucers. “How? We had protocols in place to ensure we knew her whereabouts.”
“We did. Every database in the country was fixated on her. She must not have used public transportation or hired a car.” The pitch of my tone reveals I’m as lost as her. If it wasn’t for Phillipa sighting Megan during my drive back to Ravenshoe this afternoon, I wouldn’t have known she was back. The system is failing, and it’s failing badly.
With her head in agent mode, Isabelle asks, “Where is she?”
I nudge my head to the west, cringing when it amplifies the thump of my skull. “She's paying cash for a motel on the outskirts of town.”
“Does Isaac know?”
Against my better judgment, I shake my head. “Not yet, but he soon will.” When confusion distorts Isabelle’s features, I do my best to settle it. “The hospital Nick’s fiancée is staying at requested a police presence this afternoon. I hacked the hospital’s mainframe. Jenni’s blood workup showed she had a high dosage of Misoprostol in her system when she gave birth. It’s an illegal abortion drug only sold on the black market.”
Isaac failed to mention two nights ago that Jenni, his brother’s fiancée, almost died giving birth. I don’t know if it was an intentional lack of disclosure or if he was truly in the dark as Isabelle is portraying now.
“Do you believe Megan drugged her?”
I don’t want to nod, but I must. If I want to keep Isabelle’s trust, I have to give her no reason to doubt me. “The drug is found stateside in New York City. Small minority groups use it for terminations when they can’t afford a doctor.”
The prints on the vial found in Megan’s workshop of horrors wasn’t a match for neither Carlyle nor Rhianna, leading me to believe they belong to Megan. We’re waiting for comparison prints from one of Megan’s many psych-ward stays, but that will take a few days. They won’t even disclose if a patient is admitted without sighting a warrant first.
My eyes float up from my hands when Isabelle garbles through big breaths, “Isaac will… he won’t handle this, Brandon. He loves his brother.”
While ignoring the buzz of my cell phone in my pocket, I say, “I know. That’s why I haven’t passed on any of the information to Hugo or Hunter yet. I wanted to get your opinion first.” I lock my eyes with her, unsure of my next set of words, but confident they need to be expressed. “You’re the only person I trust, Izzy—”
When she balks, I swallow the rest of my words. She isn’t sickened by my comment. She’s startled from being touched without warning. “I’m sorry, Ms. Brahn,” says the security guard who denied my first request to see Isabelle. “But there's a gentleman by the name of Hugo requesting to be informed if you're in the lobby.”
I’m anticipating for Isabelle to immediately jump to the command in the security officer’s tone, so you can imagine my surprise when she swings her eyes my way to ask, “Do you have your car here?”
Suspicion heats my face, but I nod my head, nonetheless.
“I need one final favor.”
“Anything, Izzy,” I reply without pause for consideration.
It’s a little late for me to act honorably. Phillipa attached Isabelle’s picture to Melody’s file hours before we knew the full extent of the case in Parkerville. We needed to ensure Castro’s team had time to put measures into place since they’re believed to be on the other side of the country, but by offering up my assistance, I’ll feel less guilty. There’s no need for culpability when the benefits of a friendship are being equally distributed between participants.
