Savage Beauty (The Arrow Tactical Series Book 5)

Chapter 32

The Bodden Town Police station features spacious windows in a one-story building. They delivered us to this branch of the Royal Cayman Islands police service due to proximity and, as Officer Bogle explained, because of the serious nature of the incidents, the Criminal Investigation Department, or CID, must investigate them.

I expected handcuffs and multiple police officers shouting at me in an interrogation room, but I’m sitting in an open area with uniformed officers and regular people. Curious glances fall on me as they come and go. The distant voices in the solemn space sound hushed and blur into background noise.

In the open corridor, one detective asked me questions while another took notes. One officer pressed play on his phone to record the five-minute session where I explained what happened. The officer forced me to repeat myself.

“And you threw the knife? Both times? Just…threw it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You threw the knife?”

“That’s what I said, sir.”

“Right, then.”

The detectives expressed far more fascination with knife throwing than whether I indeed acted in self-defense.

Thomas Edison famously said that until we stop harming all other living beings, we are still savages. I became a vegetarian because of his words. Attempted veganism, but vegan cheese is gross, and I’m so particular about food that a vegan diet simply would not work for me. Ironically, my eating habits don’t matter at all. I am savage. There is no defense. Perhaps I don’t deserve to go to jail under the current system of laws, but deep down, I do not regret my actions. Maybe I should have let Dr. Kallio kill me. But I would never let William hurt Max. I will kill again and again to keep Max safe. Sage used to be the only one, but now Max has joined her in the small circle of those I will kill to protect.

“Are we going to get that rain, do you think?” one officer asks another.

“Nah, Carly said last she saw, the radar shows it’s blowing to the south of us. Might get some sprinkles, but nothing much.”

Max strokes my back, the movement subtle and comforting. As promised, he hasn’t left my side.

“I wish I had a book with me. Something to take my mind off what’s going on around me.”

“One of those romance books?”

He’s teasing me.

“Nothing’s wrong with a good love story.”

I narrow my eyes at him, and he tips my chin up and presses his lips to mine.

Good sensations swarm in my chest. I rest my head against his shoulder and admit, “You’re one of the few people I’ve ever told that I love romance books. Well, you and Sage.”

“I’m honored. Maybe one day we can read one together.” I pull back, wrinkling my nose. I’m not sure about that at all. He grins his sexy grin, and I know if he pushes, I’ll read with him. Or maybe we can listen to an audiobook together.

His phone buzzes, and I absentmindedly read the text.

Ginger

I thought you’d be back by now. Is everything ok?

He thumbs back his response.

Max

Y. Don’t know when I’ll return.

“Who is that?”

“My ex.” His nails lightly scratch over my bra strap. “I told you about her.”

“What does she mean?”

“You know she’s staying at my place, right? She thought I’d be back.”

“She’s waiting on you?”

“I suppose.”

The desire to pull away rises, so I do.

“Hey. She’s nothing for you to worry about. She could be the last woman on Earth, and I wouldn’t get back together with her.”

“Does she know that?” The response comes out too quickly, and I cover my lips with my fingers. “Forget I said that. What needs to be said is that I don’t like the idea of you going back to her. I don’t have a right to not like it, but I don’t like it.”

“Duly noted.” His hand returns to my back, and when I look over my shoulder, he’s grinning.

“What?”

“I really like that you tell me what you’re thinking. That’s all.” And then he leans forward and brushes his lips across my cheek up to my ear. “You’re the only one I want, Sloane.”

A warmth infuses me, and it’s from his words. The fact is easy to discern. And I’m about to let him know I feel the same way when the door to the outside swings open, and a man in a suit with a shaved head and a short salt and pepper beard approaches, extending his dark hand. I rise from the wooden chair and take his hand as he says, “I’m the Detective Superintendent. I’m given to understand you’ve come into some trouble on our fair island.”

His hold on my hand is firm, his skin rough. His nails are cut short and filed evenly. The contrast of our skin color is striking, his deep ebony, mine pale and ghostly white.

He releases my hand and takes Max’s. “And I understand you’re with a company based in the United States? Maxwell Hawkins?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a gentleman from Interpol waiting to speak with you. Well, he would like to speak with you both, but I’m hoping to get some time with Ms. Watson.”

The Detective Superintendent’s shoes are polished black leather with dusty creases. His suit hangs loose, and the lapels are creased unevenly in two locations, like maybe a heavy object weighed down on the suit coat and wrinkled it.

“Ms. Watson and I are together,” Max says.

“Oh, in a professional or?—”

“She’s my girlfriend.” It’s the first time anyone has ever called me their girlfriend, and my face warms, quickly followed by a warmth blossoming in my chest cavity.

“Ah, I see. Well, unless you’re married?—”

“I’m not leaving her.” Max’s palm flattens on my lower back, and I fight the impulse to lean into his side.

“It’s okay, Max. I’ll be all right.”

A tall, lithe man with black hair brushed back from a widow’s peak enters the open room. His suit fits him perfectly, a sharp contrast to the detective’s loose-fitting, wrinkled clothes. He’s familiar. It takes me a second to place him. It’s the man from the hospital.

“Charles, why don’t we let them stay together?” The man possesses an air of superiority.

He steps directly to Max, hand extended. “Tristan Voignier. Interpol. A pleasure to see you again.” His distinct European accent sets him apart from the others in the police station.

“Max visited Cayman Brac recently,” Tristan says to the detective.

He did?

“Ah, yes. He was part of the team that trespassed at St. Luke’s Hostel, was he?” the detective asks.

Tristan says only, “Not without reason.”

I’m confused. Why did Max visit a hostel?

“So you say,” responds the detective. He’s smiling, as is the tall man, and I get the feeling I’m missing out on a joke.

“Charles, did you say you have a private room for us to meet in?”

“Oh, yes, my office. Right this way.”

Max’s fingers intertwine with mine, connecting us.

“Why did you trespass?”

Max smiles down at me. “It was when we were looking for you. It’s nothing.” He squeezes my hand, and I take it to mean he doesn’t want to talk about it further.

Max guides me to a chair and drags another up beside it. Tristan Voignier closes the door behind us, shutting the four of us in a small room. This is the interrogation room I expected.

“First, may I say what a relief it is to find you alive and well, Ms. Watson.”

I keep my gaze set on the floor, quite conscious that to comment on his statement might be perceived as defensive or inflammatory.

“Tristan, are you here because you have information?” Max’s direct question strikes the confrontational tone I aim to avoid.

“Charles, would you mind if we have the room?” Tristan asks.

“For you? Not a problem. I’ll visit the hospital and check on William Salo. Based on what you’ve told me, we’ll set up security for him, should he stabilize.”

I lose the will to fight leaning into Max. His arm curves around me, tucking me against him. “Do they think I’ll go after him?”

My question is to Max, but I hear someone chuckle. Based on the throaty intonations, my guess is it’s the Detective Superintendent laughing at me.

“No, they don’t think you’ll go after him,” Max says to the room.

“Personally, I doubt he’ll be much more than a vegetable should he survive, but it appears you’ve exposed some powerbrokers, Ms. Watson. Chances are good they won’t want a liability sitting around in a hospital bed.”

William was married, and I had sex with him. Many times. Oddly, no one has asked me about my relationship with William. If I were a detective working this case, I would ask those questions.

“Ms. Watson, can you please look at me while we have this discussion?” Tristan pulls out a chair and crosses a leg over his knee, exposing a pale, bony ankle and foot. His leather loafers bear a logo I’ve seen before but can’t recall the brand name.

He’s classically handsome, with an angular jaw and a straight nose. His lips don’t smile, but his eyes do.

He yawns, and his hand graciously covers his mouth. “Please forgive me. I’ve been traveling.”

“Because of me?”

“No, love.” His fingers tap against his leg, and when I brave a glance, he’s still smiling. “I was following Mr. Salo. Our sources of information are quite dependable, but they aren’t so brilliant as to foresee today’s turn of events.”

“What can you tell us?” Max asks.

“I’m rather hoping you can tell me more than what you told the detectives.”

“You listened to the tape?”

“Yes, I listened to the interview with the officer.” He studies me. I feel the weight of his gaze, and my nerves spike. “You don’t need to worry, Ms. Watson. Your character is not being questioned. What I’m most interested in, now that we understand the situation, is who the players are. Are there any names you can share?”

“No.” Max’s thumb crosses over the back of my hand like a windshield wiper, but I force my gaze to remain on Tristan, as he’s the one asking the questions. “I didn’t believe Dr. Kallio was involved until she made it known to me. Max tried to tell me, but….”

“And Mr. Salo?”

“It never would have occurred to me,” I answer honestly. “He moved to Switzerland to work for Lumina International. I didn’t think he was associated with us anymore.”

“Did you get to know many of the executives from Lumina?”

“None. Yes, they are our lead investor, but I wasn’t invited to any of the investor meetings. When investors visited, I would occasionally be introduced to them if they stopped by my lab, but that wasn’t often, and I never paid close attention to the names or the faces. But Dr. Kallio and William made it clear there are others. I don’t know if Lumina is the only company using the people in those compounds as test subjects or not. Neither of them said. But they both mentioned other people.”

“Do you think it’s likely this group will still come after Sloane?” Max asks the question of Mr. Voignier, and I stare at the scratched wooden chair leg waiting for the answer.

Mr. Voignier folds his hands, giving the question consideration.

“I don’t expect they’d be keen to pursue her. Their failures in pursuing her have done quite enough damage. But once this mess is sorted, a wise course of action would be for Ms. Watson to return to the United States while this investigation continues.” It’s hard to swallow. “I have some connections. I’m willing to assist with your search for a research position if you’ll do something for me.”

“What?”

“This is confidential.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” I glance up at Max, my boyfriend. “We won’t tell anyone,” I clarify.

“Quite right. As we investigate this matter, we need you to be a resource.” I don’t understand. “We simply ask that you be available to answer questions that might arise.”

“Absolutely.”

“We may need you to testify in an international court.”

Max stiffens beside me. “I’ll testify, if it helps. I don’t have much information. I don’t know any names. I’m awful with names, actually. And faces.”

“I understand.” Tristan’s foot falls to the ground, and there’s a finality to the movement, like he’s done, and this is all that will be said.

“But I have questions. Are you going to rescue those people in Cambodia?”

“It’s not a simple matter.” He doesn’t look happy. “One of the owners of those compounds is a wealthy, connected man and claims those people work there of their own free will and accord.”

“That’s not true.”

“We’re aware. Most of them are the equivalent of indentured servants. But we haven’t gotten involved because there are situations like that all over the world, and it’s a political quagmire. However, now that we know they’re being used for illegal medical testing, it’s a higher priority. But shuttering one compound won’t end anything if we don’t determine which company, or companies, are doing this, and who their customers are.”

“William said it’s a group within Lumina.”

“Lumina International employs forty-six thousand people across the globe. It’s a conglomerate of multiple entities.”

“And you need evidence that ties to specific people?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t have any names.” I wish I did. While I wholeheartedly condone medical testing on humans, testing people against their will, or even under duress, is unequivocally unethical. “Typically, the first stages of human research are completed in India or China as both countries have less stringent legal standards. It’s confusing to me why a testing firm would risk its reputation by doing initial testing elsewhere unless all they needed to do was test dosage. I could see a potential business reason to rush human testing to narrow the test parameters before taking it to the medical trial stage. Medical trials can last years. If there was a single parameter, like dosage, that you were uncertain about, you could shave off time. But, based on what I found, the testing was done years ago.”

“And the drug would already be out in the market.” He straightens his cufflink absentmindedly. “So, you don’t think this testing is still ongoing?”

“No. Based on what I saw in Cambodia, I think it is. It would be done for products with significant potential financial gain and a reason to rush to market. That’s what you’d need to look for.”

“Competitive pressure.”

“Exactly. But I don’t know how Origins Labs was connected or why. We don’t even do our own testing. We hire third parties to conduct the testing for ethical reasons. My best guess would be to look at who William worked with at Lumina headquarters in Switzerland.”

He covers his lips with four fingers. His gold watch glints in the light. With a sigh, his hand leaves his lips and rests on the back of a chair. “So, knife throwing.”

“Her brother taught her. He served with me,” Max interjects.

“He passed away?” Tristan asks.

“Two years ago,” I answer.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

It’s an autopilot statement. Like ‘have a nice day’ or ‘it’s nice to meet you.’

“Ms. Watson?”

“Yes?”

“Can you take me through the report you wrote? We have some questions about the methods you used to extrapolate the data and the source files.”

“We? Meaning Interpol?”

“Precisely.”

“You’re going to continue working on this case?”

“Most certainly. You have my word.”