The man grunted. “You better hope so. And you're not to leave town while the investigation is ongoing."
"I understand."
"Good." Both agents stood. "We'll be in touch if we have further questions."
They packed up their tablets and notepads with efficient movements. At the door, Debartolo turned back.
"Oh, and Ms. Reyes? You're not under arrest at this time. But I would suggest you retain counsel."
The wordsat this timehung in the air long after they left.
Cory and Izzy sat in silence for a long moment. Then she laughed, short and bitter.
"Thanks for defending my bomb-making skills. I think."
"They're idiots if they seriously consider you a suspect."
"They're doing their job." She stood, started gathering the papers she'd pulled out during questioning. "Just like you would."
"I wouldn't—" He stopped. She was right. He would have to consider all angles, even the unlikely ones. That was the job.
"Come on," she said. "We've got research to do. Someone's trying to frame me, and the FBI's helping them do it."
They headed back to the workroom, settling at separate computers. Neither were researchers by nature—he was used to having deputies handle the paperwork, and she clearly wanted to call her team but wouldn't burden them during their Alaska mission.
The hours dragged. Cory made coffee. Izzy made sandwiches. They worked in parallel, occasionally sharing discoveries that led nowhere. The comfortable silence from breakfast had evolved into something else—partnership, maybe. Or just two people united against a common threat.
He was deep in FAA incident reports when the pounding started.
Loud, aggressive, someone beating on the main door like they wanted to break it down.
Izzy was already at the security monitor. Her whole body changed when she saw who it was—warrior to worried mother in an instant.
"Andrew," she breathed.
The pounding intensified. Even through the monitor, Cory could see the man's face was red, fists hammering with rage.
"I'll handle it," Cory said, already moving.
"No, I should?—"
"Together then." He wasn't letting her face her ex alone. Not after yesterday. Not ever, if he had anything to say about it.
They headed down the stairs, Andrew's pounding echoing through the building like war drums. At the door, Cory put himself slightly in front of Izzy.
"Let me lead," he said quietly.
She nodded, but he could feel her tension buzzing like electricity in the air.
“I know you’re here, Iz. Open up.” The pounding got louder, Andrew's muffled voice carrying through the steel door. Demanding. Threatening.
Cory took a breath, squared his shoulders and reached for the handle.
20
Cory openedthe door to a wall of rage.
"Where's my daughter?" Andrew's red face was inches from his. "I know you're hiding her."
