CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ilse could feel the gaze of the baseball cap–wearing cop fixated on her. He hadn’t introduced himself yet, but she could tell he was in charge, simply by the way he moved, the way he held himself. He had an air of authority, but also one of distance from the other police gathered.
Not a cop, then? A federal, maybe?
She shook her head, nibbling on her lower lip and feeling a swirl of guilt and anxiety flush through her system.
Samantha had been taken. Her phone discarded, blood on the trail.
Ilse bit her lip hard, feeling a jolt of pain. She could feel her own anxiety rising, swirling, she wanted to scream, to yell. But for the moment, she kept her posture calm, docile. She kept her eyes fixed on the tall, silver-haired man in the flannel shirt.
“What relation did you h
