The Mystery Unmasked: Enigma, #3

by Shandi Boyes

  With newfound knowledge and a heart not as heavy as it was thirty minutes ago, my decisions veered in an entirely new direction. I will not stop fighting until both Isaac and I are vindicated from Megan’s case. Once that happens, my focus will shift to us—as a couple. I refuse to put our relationship second-best anymore. We’ve been dragged down by so much controversy, yet my love for him continues to blossom, so it’s time to stand up for what I believe in. That includes Isaac, me, and our relationship.

  My bones jump out of my skin when a stern, “Get out!” roars through my ears. The blonde swings her rake-thin arm to the door she just walked through. “If I’m forced to repeat myself, you’ll find yourself relinquished of your position before sunrise tomorrow. A loss of hearing will be an easy dismissal case for me to win.”

  As a vein in Theresa’s neck works overtime, she stands from her chair. “Like you could have me fired.”

  The unique scent of vanilla frosting filters through my nose when the blonde steps closer to our gathering. “Please, feel free to test me.” She flashes a wicked smile that says she doesn’t just have looks. She has smarts as well. “As I’d love the opportunity to prove you wrong… again.”

  Her defensive pose frustrates Theresa further, but instead of responding as I am anticipating, she storms out of the room, barging past the unnamed blonde grinning like she just won a gold medal.

  Once the door slams shut as abruptly as it did when Isaac left, the blonde’s humored-filled eyes shift to the two-way mirror. She appears to wink at her reflection, but I know who has her affection. I can’t see Isaac, but I can feel his eyes on me. My cheeks only cooled when the blonde silently demanded his attention.

  When the intruder’s green return to me, she assesses my face in precise detail before taking in the rest of my package—aka my body. My cheeks flush from her avid inspection, but I don’t feel threatened. Her confrontation with Theresa was brutal, but she hasn’t given off anything but friendly vibes since Theresa’s dramatic storm out.

  With my hands sweatier than I’m happy about, I stand from my chair, so I can offer the stranger my hand to shake. She snugs my offer by angling her head back to the two-way mirror. “You’ve always had a fondness for blushers.” She winks again, this one arriving with a dainty laugh. “I can’t say I don’t understand your fascination. Blushers keep things interesting.”

  Her smile enlarges when she spots my puzzled expression. I really wish she quit smiling. She’s already beautiful, but when she smiles, my god, it’s like heaven opened its gates, and an angel fell from the sky. I can’t compete with that on my best day, let alone my worst.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle.” The stranger accepts the handshake she left hanging before gesturing for me to retake my seat. I do, albeit hesitantly. “For how often Isaac talks about you, I feel as if I already know you.”

  “Thank you…” I stop talking since I have no clue how to address her.

  She fills in the blank reasonably quick. “Regan.”

  My heart plummets into my stomach. Of course, the most stunning woman on the planet has to be Isaac’s lawyer.

  A touch of laughter crackles Regan’s voice when she murmurs, “You’re not too bad yourself.” I want to crawl under a cushion and die when she adds on, “Isaac said you like to babble under your breath. I’m glad I had the pleasure of witnessing it firsthand.”

  Embarrassment seeps deep in my veins. I’ve never been more mortified in my life. “I’m sorry. I…” I stop again, having no plausible excuse for my idiocrasies.

  Regan once again opens the gates of heaven when she smiles. “Okay, I get it, but how about we settle everything from the get-go. This…” she gestures her hand between herself and the two-way mirror, “… has never happened.” Her stare leaves nothing on the table. It’s brimming with honest truths and a dash of amusement. “It will never happen.”

  “Why?” I slap my hand over my mouth, mortified I asked my question out loud instead of in my head. My curiosity can’t be helped. If Regan isn’t interested in Isaac, she’s either gay or mentally unstable. Considering she’s here to represent me, and the fact she’s drop-dead gorgeous, I’m praying for the former.

  Regan balances her elbows on the table, building the suspense. “For one, I too have a fondness for blushers.” She winks again, loving that it sets my cheeks on fire. “Two, I don’t sleep with the men I work for. Considering Isaac is my only source of income ensures I wouldn’t sleep with him even if he paid me to.” She screws up her nose like a nasty taste just hit the back of her throat. “And last, but certainly not least, there’s only one alpha allowed in my bedroom at a time. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see Isaac relinquishing his title anytime soon.”

  Like a freight train smacking into me, the truth finally dawns. I know why I felt like we’ve met before. From the strands of her perfectly flawless hair right down to her red Milano Bianco pumps, she’s the female version of Isaac. The expensive, tailor-made suit and unique-colored eyes should have given it away, let alone her commanding personality and striking features.

  I don’t need affirmation to my claims, but if I did, Regan stacks them up by saying, “I also believe in the whole opposites attract notion. When I look at Isaac, I see my brother.”

  When she gags, I laugh. Not just because she has no sexual partialities for Isaac but because Theresa’s bogus charges won’t have a chance in hell of remaining when put against two powerhouse personalities like Isaac and Regan.

  “Wowzers.” Regan’s eyes bulge as she drinks in my smile. “That smile alone is worth every goddamn penny you spent, Isaac.”

  My smile slackens. “What money did he spend?”

  She snickers before fiddling with some papers she removed from a leather briefcase at her side. After clearing her throat, her eyes lift and lock with mine. “Okay, let’s get down to business.”

  Yep! She’s one hundred percent a female version of Isaac—skirting questions and all.

  “Were you officially charged with murder, or were you brought in for questioning?”

  I lick my parched lips, hoping a bit of moisture will ease out my next set of words. “They charged me with murder.” My fingers are still stained with ink from when they took my fingerprints and mugshot earlier. “They said a bullet from my Bureau-issued gun killed Megan.”

  Chapter 4

  Isaac

  Restless, I suck in big breaths, trying to find the calm I need to assess Isabelle’s confession with more diligence. Up until ten seconds ago, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. Everything Regan said to Isabelle is true. I also look at Regan as if she is the sister I never had. She’s most definitely a female version of me. That’s why she’s the best person to defend Isabelle. She’s cocky and arrogant, yet brilliant at anything she does, but even she will have a hard time getting this type of evidence squashed.

  I shoot my eyes to Ryan, wondering if he knew about the bullet they located. If he did, he’s a damn good actor. He only left my side for five minutes to call Regina, the now-retired police officer, to inform her of Isabelle’s arrest. Other than that, he stood at my side, watching over Isabelle as if he too is as panicked as me.

  He’s not—but once again, he’s a brilliant actor.

  Ryan shakes his head to my silent interrogation. “I don’t know anything about the case other than what I overheard.”

  “Can you get on this case?”

  He winces. “I don’t know, Isaac. It could be a conflict of interest. Not just me knowing you, but I dated the accused.”

  My jaw flexes as quickly as my fists. “My relationship was never made public, so as far as the police department is concerned, there’s no connection between any of us.” I gesture my hand between Isabelle, him, and me. “And as for that one date you and Isabelle had, it wasn’t impressive enough for anyone to pay any attention to it.”

  My arrogant tone matches the angry glimmer in my eyes—a glimmer that only grows more rampant when Ryan remark
s, “It may not have been memorable for you, Isaac, but I’ll always remember the taste of those lips.” When I step closer to him, prepared to rip his fucking nuts off with my bare hands, he holds his out in front of himself. “I was joking, Isaac. Come on, we’ve been playing this game for years.”

  “This isn’t a game.” I point to Isabelle sitting in the middle of an interrogation room. “She’s not a fucking game.”

  Guilt darkens Ryan’s eyes, then regret highlights his tone. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That was highly inappropriate.”

  I don’t refute his accurate statement, but his remorseful words slide through me like water, drowning my anger to a more manageable level.

  After working my jaw side to side, I use his guilt to my advantage. “I need you on this case, Ryan. You know as well as I do the corruption that plagues this precinct. I am not calling in a favor or asking for special treatment, I’m merely requesting you to do the job you’re paid to do. The job you say you’re brilliant at. Prove to me how good you are by getting on this case, so you can catch the real perp.”

  Yes, I’m goading him into proving his worth, but I’ll do anything if it gets him on Isabelle’s case because he’s as good as he proudly states he is. If taunting doesn’t work, I’ll stroke his ego before backing it up with an offer he won’t be able to turn down. I’ll try every dirty tactic in the book until he agrees to lead this investigation.

  After a few seconds of silent contemplation, Ryan shifts his eyes from Isabelle to me. “I’ll call in a favor and get on her case.” I almost fist punch the air until his next set of words steals my thunder. “But I’m not doing this for you. Isabelle. I’m doing it for her…” He nudges his head to Isabelle. “… and Regina.”

  I nod, successfully concealing the tick my jaw got from his statement. Now is not the time for jealousy to erupt. Call me vain, but I don’t have many weaknesses—except when it comes to other people showing an interest in Isabelle. That flaw is virulent. Isabelle is mine, and I want the world to know that.

  Not long later, two police officers enter the interrogation room to re-shackle Isabelle. Dread burrows in my chest when her frightened eyes turn to mine a mere second before she’s ushered out of the room.

  After demanding for Isabelle to remain quiet, Regan shifts on her feet to face the two-way mirror. Unlike Isabelle, she isn’t staring straight at me. “She’s all right. Stay where you are. I’ll return to update you the instant I get her settled.”

  Even though she can’t see me, I nod. Within seconds of me doing so, she chases down Isabelle. When chains being dragged over a tiled-floor boom into my ears, I clench and unclench my fists, striving to keep my focus on the grime-covered light switch at the side of the room, instead of rushing to Isabelle’s defense. Brutalizing the men arresting Isabelle won’t do anyone any good, but I’m itching to jump in and defend her.

  Sensing my slip in composure, Ryan gives my shoulder a reaffirming squeeze. “I’ll go find out what’s going on. While I do that, remain calm and stay out of sight.”

  It frustrates the hell out of me, but I once again nod. I’ve never felt as useless as I do right now. Isabelle needs all the support she can get, yet I’m in an observation room, twiddling my thumbs while everyone else aids her.

  As I drag my hand over my head, my mind struggles to compile all the mammoth events that have happened the past forty-eight hours. It’s a clusterfuck of confusion. Nothing makes sense, but I’m confident Isabelle didn’t kill Megan. Her truthful eyes would have exposed her deceit. She didn’t do what they’re accusing her of. She’s innocent, so I’ll do everything in my power to see her walk free without charges, and I know the best place to start my campaign.

  After pulling my cell out of my pocket, I dial a memorized number. After a few seconds, Hunter answers. “Boss.”

  “What’s the latest?”

  “Megan’s hotel room has been cordoned off, and a CSI team has been brought in from Hopeton. Locals are saying it’s a homicide.” His tone doesn’t give anything away. He’s an expert at keeping his thoughts guarded.

  “Has anyone said how she was killed?”

  “No.” He goes quiet, but I can hear his brain ticking over, no doubt struggling to work out how to ask his next question without it sounding bad. He should have deliberated a little longer. “Did you call in a favor?”

  My teeth grit. “No.”

  In my industry, the sacrifices I’d have to evoke for entreating a favor like that would be immense. That’s why it was never considered while devising a way to handle Megan’s obsession with my brother. She was going to be handled in-house. I just hadn’t worked out exactly what that would entail before a much more urgent situation arose.

  Hunter’s boots clomping along the pavement thuds down the line a mere second before a door sliding open overtakes his deep pants of breaths. “Something about this doesn’t seem right.” The same sliding noise shrills into my ears for the second time, but more as if a door is being shut with force than being opened. He must have climbed into his van to ensure we have privacy. “This looks mob-related.”

  My pulse spikes as I freeze like a statue. “What makes you say that?”

  His voice echoes in the tight confines of his security van. “I was talking to a homeless guy who sleeps by a dumpster near the motel. He kept rambling on about a girl in the yellow car and how she went to sleep after they put a cloth on her mouth. He hardly made any sense, but he repeated that statement over and over again.”

  “What type of car does Megan drive?”

  I hear him scrub his hand over his beard as he replies, “A yellow Chevrolet Sonic. And before you ask, no, it isn’t in the parking lot of her motel.”

  “Is there a body?”

  Hunter sharply inhales as shocked by my bluntness as me. I’m always forthright, but I’m not usually so callous when asking for details on someone’s murder. “I don’t know. Why?”

  “Because if her death is related to Col Petretti, his crew wouldn’t have left a body.” The anger shredding my veins of normality is heard in my reply.

  “I don’t even want to know how you even know that.” Hunter’s breathing lengthens as the sound of an engine kicking over breaks up his words. “Are you at your office? I need to access your servers.”

  “No, I’m at Ravenshoe PD. I’ll send Hugo there to give you the access you need.”

  Talking about Hugo, where the fuck is he? I haven’t seen him since I shadowed Ryan to the block of interrogation rooms at the back of Ravenshoe PD headquarters over an hour ago.

  “Is there something you need to tell me?” Hunter’s voice is rife with suspicion.

  As my eyes shift to the shackles piled in the interrogation room, I attempt to swallow the brick in my throat. “They arrested Isabelle for the murder of Megan.” I have to strangle my words out since they’re trapped in my throat by the brick I’m trying to dislodge.

  “Fuck,” Hunter’s groan is long and breathlessly.

  “Do you still have those back doors open from last week? The ones that included the low-security issues?” I keep my volume on the down-low, unconvinced there aren’t any ears listening to my private conversation. My trust is very low at the moment, hopefully as low as my voice.

  “Uh-huh, Why?”

  “I need you to monitor the threat in case any new issues surface from it…” I stop talking when the creak of a door sounds into the room. When I discover the intruder is Regan, I twist to face the mirrored wall before devoting my attention back to Hunter. “Everything is to come straight to me. I’ll send Hugo to assist you.”

  “I understand.” Hunter is good like this. He doesn’t need me to spell everything out for him. He sees the gray hiding between the black and white everyone else only sees. It’s why I chose him to helm my security team. “I won’t let you down.”

  When he disconnects our call, I speed dial Hugo’s number.

  “Boss.” His voice is low, but the unasked questions relayed through his tone ar
e the loudest of them all.

  “Isabelle is okay, a little rattled, but she’s strong.”

  Hugo huffs, relieved.

  “Where are you?”

  I haven’t laid eyes on him since we followed Ryan into the hub of the police department over an hour ago.

  “Sitting in a tea room with a dozen cops gawking at me.”

  A grin etches onto my mouth when “Boo!” comes shrieking down the line—no doubt, Hugo taunting the officers staring peculiarly at him. He’s not a fan of cops. His aversion wasn’t something he’s always felt. It just steadily built after the death of his sister, Marjorie, and unborn nephew.

  I wait for his chuckles to die down before giving him my orders. “I need you to go to the Dungeon to give Hunter access to my servers. He has a few things he requires your assistance with.”

  “All right.” Heavy footsteps bellow down the line. “I’ll head there now. I’ll update you the instant I know anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  After disconnecting our call, I house my phone into the breast pocket of my jacket. When I pivot around to face Regan, I catch the quickest glimpse of the apprehension tainting her face before she can shut it down. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her lack confidence. Generally, it oozes out of her. That’s the most significant difference between Isabelle and Regan. Regan knows how gorgeous she is. Isabelle doesn’t have a clue about the vast appeal her captivating features and alluring body have with the opposite sex. That, in turn, makes her even more beautiful.