Isabella took the police station steps two at a time, her heels slapping against the concrete. Her bag bounced against her hip, and her breath came short and sharp. She hadn't slept. She hadn't eaten. All she'd done since Alexander was hauled away on television was move — phone calls and meetings and send messages, building a ladder tall enough to pull him out.
At the front desk, a bored officer looked up. “How can I help you?”
“Where is he?” Isabella demanded. “I need to see Alexander Steele. Tell whoever’s in charge I’m here.”
The officer's expression softened somewhat. "You have to sign in on the visitor forms first, ma'am. And—" He checked a screen, then added, "Detective Daniel asked that you be warned. They say people linked with Victor Hayes have tried intimidating witnesses befo
