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“Okay,” I said.
“That’s not a confirmation. Or a denial,” she added.
“No, it’s not.”
“I need you to tell me this,” she said, and I was again struck by how serious she was.
“I’ll answer if I can,” I said.
“That’s not—”
I cut her off. “It’s the best I can do.”
She stared at me and then nodded.
“Well, based on what I found in those invoices, I’m going to assume that you’re smuggling something into the country and using James Industries as a front.”
“Like I said—”
It was her who cut me off this time. She shook her head. “If you can’t answer, fine, but I need you to tell me that it’s not people.”
She said the last on a rush.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re not trafficking people. Promise me that,” she said.
I stared at her, my entire life up until this point telling me that I shouldn’t answer her question, that the easiest, best option was to eliminate her.
“No. My mother…” I trailed off then began again. “She made my father promise not to get into the flesh trade.”
“And he kept that promise?”
“He did,” I said.
She studied me for a long moment.
“I shouldn’t believe a word you say,” she said, seeming to speak more to herself than me.
“But you do?” I asked.
She met my eyes, her own unreadable, the emotion that I could usually find in them absent. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
She shrugged. “Then there’s your answer.” She blinked then turned away.
When she looked at me again, her mask was firmly in place. “So did you find it?” she asked.
“Find what?”
“Whatever it was you came here looking for.”
Had I?
I didn’t know.
I didn’t even know what I had come here for, not really.
