CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You sure?” Agent Sawyer murmured as Ilse watched from the back passenger seat. She stared at the side of his face, breathing softly, waiting to watch his normally expressionless face and try to pick up clues like crumbs from a table.
“All right, thanks,” Sawyer murmured. “Just the three, you’re sure?”
She heard the buzz of a voice on the other end of the phone, but then Sawyer just grunted once and hung up.
Ilse leaned in from the backseat, still watching the side of the FBI agent’s face. He’d refused to allow her in the front seat, next to him. She felt like a suspect in the back, her arms braced against the seat. But again, Ilse had swallowed her pride. Samantha needed her, and she wasn’t about to be distracted by the strange idiosyncrasies of an agent who’d never l
