Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Agents still discuss his role in bringing Katie Bryne back stateside after nine years of captivity, and I’m praying he has the skills to solve a thirteen-year abduction.
I make my expression neutral when the bathroom door creaks open, even without the toilet flushing. The rattling pipes in this building are impossible to ignore. They could wake the dead.
As Grayson approaches the dining room, his eyes sweep the bulletin boards I covered with white sheets when I heard the tapping of boots on wooden floorboards. They house hundreds of surveillance images and blueprints of suspected target compounds.
Last month, Markwell accused me of including more details in these reports than the ones I’d provided him with during the brief sharing of intel. His accusation was justified. He kept things from me, so I returned the favor.
Although my paper trail is meticulous, it is also a tangled web of deception I’m worried will take me down with it.
Is that why Grayson has arrived? Is he here to help me unravel the mess before it swallows me whole, or will he rip it from my hands?
God, I hope it is the former.
I like Grayson. I’ve had a crush on him for over a decade, and my fascination stems primarily from his ability to empathize with victims’ families and his knack for knowing the right thing to say.
He was the only person who listened when I told him my fears that Kendall had been abducted and had not run away, as the other agents and officers had suggested. He made my worries feel valid and helped me have a voice when everyone else was silencing me.
If he hacked his empathy along with his hair, my crush will be squashed like the roach I found eating crumbs in the kitchen last night.
In silence, Grayson absorbs the information in front of him. His blond brows furrow more the longer he drinks everything in. Deep down, I understand he’s here to help, but I can’t stop worrying that I’m in denial. Not solely about the case, but also the secret I can’t hide for much longer.
I am weeks from giving birth, and I’ve not prepared a single thing.
The thought of becoming a mother is as daunting as the uncertainty surrounding my sister’s disappearance. Thirteen years have passed since Kendall vanished—years filled with searching and hoping for a miracle. Our parents stopped looking a month after she disappeared, believing she had run away. But I refuse to give up.
I blink back tears of gratitude when Grayson puts on his agent’s hat instead of his interrogator’s cap. If he were planning to remove me from my post, he would have gone with his usual “bad cop” ruse.
He shouldn’t be able to pull off that ruse so easily, but his acting skills will surprise you if you ever sit across from him in an interrogation.
“What have you got, Agent Machini?”
My sigh of relief is silent even before a ton of words swallow it. “I’ve narrowed down the list of suspects to three main areas.” On a map, I highlight the locations in question. Despite the bureau’s belief that the housing and murders of these women are occurring out of the country, only one area crosses geographical boundaries. “Although the nature of the business appears to be trafficking, they’re not solely trading sex.”
“Babies?” Grayson predicts, on the money.
I make an agreeing gesture, then continue. “And not solely manufactured ones.” I leave Grayson speechless when I spread files for five Jane Does across the dining table. “Unlike these victims”—my hand hovers over the files Grayson must have taken from Markwell’s office—“these females only have one C-section scar.”
“So someone stole their babies from their wombs?”
Again, I nod.
Though this isn’t the right time, Grayson shifts our conversation where it needs to go so we can move past it. “Is that what that is about?” He nudges his head to my stomach. His nonchalant way of referring to my pregnancy doesn’t bother me. I’ve not accepted that I’m pregnant yet, so how can I expect anyone else to? “It looks real, Mace. It feels real, too.”
I wet my lips whilst swiveling to face him. “That’s because it is.” I hate his deep exhale, but I’m relieved it loosens the tension enough for me to speak honestly. “The prime suspect at the beginning of our investigation was an IVF specialist. Allegedly, the patients he couldn’t help conceive naturally didn’t want a random baby. They wanted a child of their own, so Dr. Valdemar helped them find a surrogate. Rarely was the surrogacy voluntary.”
My grinding teeth ring through my next set of words. “After selecting their prime pick, the couple’s eggs and sperm were in vitro fertilized into their surrogate. They didn’t use donors. I went undercover at Dr. Valdemar’s clinic as a woman seeking conception without a partner before her motherhood clock rang out.” My laugh is the only dishonest thing in my following statement. “I’m not getting any younger, so it was an easy ruse to pull off.” I speak as if I’m already forty instead of nearing it. Two months ago, I celebrated my thirty-eighth birthday. “I went through with the procedures, believing both the egg retrieval and insemination process would fail because of my age. When that occurred, I could request one of Dr. Valdemar’s highly sought-after surrogates.” I stare Grayson straight in the eyes. “Neither the retrieval nor the implantation failed. I conceived during the first round of IVF.”