Stolen Child (Coastal Fury Book 13) - Matt Lincoln (ebook reader library .txt) 📗

a lot of yelling. I could even hear the guy on the other line. He was talking so loud. Couldn’t tell what he was saying, though.”

I exchanged a knowing look with Holm.

“Told you she’d have our backs,” I said, and I felt a swell of pride that we were Diane’s agents and warmth toward her for going to bat for us even when it might not be in her own best interest.

“Yeah, but if she carries on like this, she might find herself without a job,” Muñoz remarked, her eyes wide with worry. “It’s one thing yelling at Sheldon the ridiculous pencil pusher, but Interpol? That might come back to bite her in the ass.”

“It might bite us even more not to be in Scotland when they break this case,” Holm pointed out, and Muñoz gave him a grudging nod of agreement.

“How long has she been talking to Interpol?” I asked the FBI agents.

“Oh, that was a while ago,” Dobbs said with a wave of his hand. “I think this is something else. She came out and saw you guys had gone, and we told her you went to lunch or breakfast or whatever, but then she got another call. No yelling on this one, though.”

I exchanged another look with Holm. Could there be another break in the Holland case? If so, wouldn’t she be yelling some more about getting us out there?

“How long ago was that?” Birn asked.

“About forty-five minutes, I’d say,” Dobbs said, checking his watch to be sure. “We’re dying to find out what it’s all about.”

“Hopefully, we do get sent out there now,” Holm said hopefully, voicing some of my own thoughts. “Man, wouldn’t it be great to be a part of that investigation…”

I agreed, but I didn’t think we could get that lucky, not so soon.

“Could be another case,” Muñoz offered. “I know we haven’t been taking many with the Hollands being our top priority, but we’re due for some emergency to come up, aren’t we?”

She wasn’t wrong. There was a certain point at which pawning cases off to other agencies and local law enforcement wouldn’t work anymore. Something too big and too important would come along to distract us from breaking the Holland case, eventually.

“Man, that would suck,” Holm muttered, shaking his head at the thought. “To get pulled off on some other case while Interpol’s breaking the Holland case without us?”

“We don’t know they’re breaking it,” I pointed out. “And I, for one, would prefer to be doing something other than sitting around here all day. I’d take a new case.”

I knew it wasn’t going to happen, though. We all did. In order for us to get called out on another case right now, something really high profile would have to happen. Like, national news, “someone had better get out here quick before things get ugly” kind of high profile.

I sat down at my desk across from Holm and began to rummage through my stack of files again. I abandoned them quickly and checked my tablet to see whether the Maine lady had responded to any of my inquiries. Nope, still nothing. Predictable.

It was another half hour of this before Diane exited her office, her hair looking slightly disheveled and her eyes blinking more than they should.

“Oh, good,” she said, her voice slightly weak when she saw us. “You’re back. Robbie, Ethan, can I see you in my office, please?”

Holm and I exchanged a look. Usually, Diane just told the group what was going on. It had to be something important for us to be pulled aside like this.

I was all too happy to abandon my fruitless search for anything useful to do, so I cast aside the Maine lady’s file and my tablet and followed Holm into Diane’s office, the eyes of Birn, Muñoz, and all the FBI agents searing into my back as I did so.

I shut the door to Diane’s office behind me when I entered. There was only one chair across from her desk, and Holm was already sitting in it, so I propped myself against the closed door and surveyed the room.

I hadn’t been in Diane’s office for a while, and it was mostly as I remembered, except that her usual pristine desk was covered in disheveled files much like our own were outside. Piles were spilling over, individual pages were sticking out every which way, and she generally just seemed to have lost control of the whole endeavor.

This, more than anything, I took to be a sign of just how crazy and out of sorts things had been at MBLIS in recent weeks. I’d never seen Diane so stressed, and this was the biggest sign of it. While she usually appeared pretty well put together, except for the now ever-present bags under her eyes, this was indicative of what was actually going on.

“Uh, do you need any help to clean this up?” I asked her, trying to be helpful. “If you want, I could…”

“No, Marston, I’m fine,” she snapped, giving me a look that told me to shut up right now or else.

“Right, sorry,” I muttered, silently vowing never to bring the matter up again.

“What’s going on?” Holm asked excitedly, leaning forward with his elbows on the arms of his chair as all hints of fatigue left his own face, replaced by the eagerness that I was trying to prevent myself from feeling, as well. “Did Interpol come to their senses? Are we going to Scotland?”

Diane sighed, and I could see on her face that this wasn’t the case. She probably would’ve announced it to the group if it was, and I knew then that I was right not to get my own hopes up.

“No,” she said, pursing her lips. “I’m afraid that it’s nothing like that.”

Holm’s face fell just as quickly as it had risen, his body slumping back into the chair in defeat.

“Seriously?” he asked as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You can’t be surprised?” I said, shaking my