Page 42 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

She knew it was a warning.

Gabriel and Thomas stepped aside. They let her pass and leave the room, and she continued walking down the corridor until she reached the elevator. Once inside, she pressed the button for the parking garage. When the doors finally closed, she shoved the file folder into her handbag and pulled out the burner phone Orlando had given her. With trembling fingers, she typed out a short message.

Run. Scanguards is coming to arrest you.

22

Orlando had tried to contact everybody he remembered from his time in Montreal, anybody who was in any way connected to the Arnaud family. Most of the human employees the rich family had were dead. The business manager had moved away after the murders not wanting to be associated with the tragedy that had occurred. He lived in France now, and according to the information Orlando had found on the internet, he was retired and lived a quiet life with his family.

One of the maids, a young woman named Odette, took her own life. According to the papers, she’d been the one who’d found the family the morning after the bloodbath. Orlando, however, knew that another person had entered the house that night and had seen the dead bodies as well as him: the woman who’d once been Margarite’s nanny, but later became the family’s housekeeper, Ines Girard. She’d left the house without calling the authorities.

Ines had immigrated to the USA, and Orlando had reached out to an immigration lawyer who’d handled her case. He’d left a message for the retired lawyer to contact his client—if she was still alive—and let her know that he needed to speak to her on an urgent family matter, mentioning the Arnaud family name. He’d given him his burner number, but didn’t have much hope that Ines would reach out to him, even if she was still alive.

As for anybody else connected to Margarite, Orlando was at a loss. Margarite hadn’t had many friends. At the time, it hadn’t struck him as odd that a beautiful, prominent, and rich woman like Margarite wasn’t surrounded by all sorts of hangers-on, even if they weren’t true friends. But except for her family, she was rarely seen in the company of others. And Orlando hadn’t minded at all. He’d wanted her for himself, didn’t need anybody else. The two of them had been enough. He never saw the warning signs.

Orlando stopped at a red light, already on his way to the Mezzanine for his shift, when his burner phone pinged. He looked at the message. It was from Isabelle.

Run. Scanguards is coming to arrest you.

Fuck! It appeared that the person framing him for Hong’s murder had finally succeeded in convincing Scanguards that he was the killer. Which left him with only one option: making sure Scanguards didn’t find him. He grabbed his Scanguards-issued cell phone and switched it off.

Orlando made a U-turn in his Hummer and drove to the nearest freeway on-ramp. Traffic was rather heavy despite the evening rush hour being over, but this being a Friday night meant that lots of people were heading out of town, or into the city to hit the restaurants and clubs.

He drove south. He was tempted to drive faster, but he knew that the Highway Patrol was particularly vigilant on a Friday night, and this part of the freeway was known for drivers speeding, because it was flat and virtually straight all the way to the airport. And he couldn’t risk getting caught in a speed trap. If Scanguards was already looking for him, their police liaison would most likely already have passed his license plate on to SFPD and the California Highway Patrol. He knew the drill.

Orlando kept an eye on his speedometer. He was pushing seventy-five, ten miles over the speed limit, the speed everybody else was going, apart from an impatient driver behind him, who was now passing him on the right. Orlando kept his impatience in check and forced himself to remain calm.

When the signs finally indicated the exit to San Francisco International Airport, he merged to the right and slowed down as he exited. He headed for the signs directing him to the departure level. There, traffic slowed to a crawl. In three lanes, cars moved from one terminal to the next, dropping off passengers where they could, while Uber and Lyft drivers having unloaded their passengers merged back into the outer lanes to leave the airport.

Finally, the international terminal was next, and Orlando veered to the right to enter the parking structure meant for the international terminal. One lane was closed. Ahead of him, in the second lane, the driver hadn’t driven close enough to the gate to be able to press the big button so a ticket was dispensed. The driver, clearly still hooked in by his seatbelt, tried to lean out through the window, but still couldn’t reach the ticket dispenser.

“Damn it!” Orlando cursed. He put the car in park and jumped out of the Hummer.

With four large strides he was at the gate, pressed the button and handed the ticket to the hapless driver, while the boom lifted.

“Oh, thank you, young man. That’s so nice of you. You know—”

“Have a good night,” Orlando interrupted, not wanting to get drawn into a long conversation he didn’t have time for.

By the time he was back in his Hummer, the car in front of him had cleared the gate. Moments later, Orlando had his ticket in hand, and the boom lifted for him and allowed him to enter the garage.

There weren’t many empty parking spots, so Orlando took the first one he could find, not wanting to risk driving around endlessly. He killed the engine, then pulled his Scanguards-issued cell phone from his pocket. He switched it on and waited for it to get a signal. Then he dialed the main number of the Mezzanine and waited for it to ring twice, before he disconnected the call and switched it off again. He tossed it under the passenger seat. Then he made sure that he had his burner phone and his wallet safely tucked away in the inside pockets of his jacket, before he tossed the key underneath the driver’s seat and got out. He closed the door then opened the trunk. From there he took out a small backpack which contained the essentials for a night. He slung it over his shoulder and headed for the walkway that connected the parking structure with the international terminal.

He didn’t run, even though nobody would have batted an eye if he had. After all, he could be late for his flight. However, he didn’t want to be noticed by anybody. From now on, he needed to be a ghost. It was the only way for him to stay alive. And to protect Isabelle from his enemy.

Orlando entered the departure hall and headed for the Canadian Airlines ticket counter.

23

“He didn’t show up at the Mezzanine,” Cooper reported as he popped his head into Samson’s office.

Samson was pacing in front of his desk. “Damn it! Where the hell is he?”

Cooper shrugged. “With his phone off, we have no idea.”

“He’s not at his home either,” Benjamin said from behind Cooper, opening the door wider. “Gabriel just called. He’s on his way back here.”

“Somebody must have warned him that we were coming,” Samson mused, rage boiling up inside him. He marched past the two hybrids and headed for an office two doors down. “Thomas?”