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“When was the last time anyone saw him?” She strode past Cannon and Jimmy into the lobby and planted herself in front of Irene’s desk. “What time did Karl leave last night?”
“Right after you and he finished working together. I know because he said goodbye, which he never does.”
Cannon jammed his fist into his open palm. “The coward wasn’t planning on coming back.”
Wulf stepped off the elevators. “I checked the surveillance cameras. He hasn’t been on the premises since he left last night.”
“As far as we know.” Rosalie looked at Jimmy. “Check to see if the security feeds have been tampered with.”
“We’ve been monitoring that system closely. No red flags.”
She pulled in a breath. “Check every camera within ten miles of Red Snow. Get local PD in here to search the hospital. Just because he didn’t show up on a camera doesn’t mean he’s not here somewhere. He wouldn’t give up his front-row seat this far into the game.”
The elevator doors opened. She reached for her gun, and so did Wulf as an agent wheeled Paul into the executive suite lobby. Rosalie glared at her boss. “Get back to bed.”
“Do you really think I’d stay down now that we have a lead?” He looked at Wulf. “Why didn’t Interpol let us know they had an agent working in my backyard?”
“I’m not here as an Interpol agent. I left the agency to search for my fiancée’s killer.”
Paul nodded. He looked at Grady striding toward them, phone to his ear. “Any word on finding Malgor?”
“No sign of him, and his apartment has been cleaned out. Between the FBI and state and local patrols, we’ve got teams spread throughout the area and checkpoints set up at city lines.”
Rosalie accepted a cup of coffee from Irene and asked her to keep them coming. How had she considered Wulf more of a suspect than the lecherous CIO? Malgor had been under her nose the entire time. He’d hit on her, for God’s sake, and she hadn’t made any connections until it was too late. But how could she have? He’d been so professional while they’d worked together, and she’d never seen the terrorist, much less had a conversation with him. Nobody had except…
She pulled out her phone and dialed Devon.
Twenty minutes later,after thoroughly searching the executive floor and only discovering a bottle of Stoffrei that Malgor had left behind in a supply closet, she joined Paul, Jimmy, and Cannon in the conference room. Grady and Wulf strode in seconds after and reported the rest of the hospital clear.
She looked at the time on her phone. “Devon will be here shortly to listen to recordings from human resources meetings. He remembers Malgor’s voice from his captivity and might be able to positively ID him.”
Her mom and Bella were also coming along with Devon, and they were all moving into the Mountainview Inn. She wanted everyone close, although she wasn’t looking forward to a “Why did your father let you be an agent?” speech from her mother. Cannon walked back into the room, and she let out a relieved breath. She wanted him close too.
As Paul grilled Wulf, Cannon whispered in her ear, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He placed a bottle of water before her. “You need to rehydrate after throwing up this morning.”
“As you’ve witnessed twice this week, I’m kind of familiar with how throwing up feels. I know what to do afterward.”
“Do you do that often?” He placed his hand above hers on her stomach. “Frequent vomiting is a sign of many disorders. Gastrointestinal disease. Pancreatitis. An allergy.”
Rosalie sipped her caffeine jolt. “No need to diagnose me, Dr. Ford. Aside from recent episodes, I haven’t puked in two years.”
“What caused it the last time?”
“The night my father was shot.” She traced the curve of the leather chair handle with her finger. “Sorry I keep getting sick on you.”
He chuckled. “No worries. I’m a doctor. I’ve had plenty of patients spurt all sorts of bodily fluids over me.” His expression sobered. “You haven’t told me much about the night your father was murdered and you were stabbed. Why?”
“It’s too…” She swallowed. “I know it’s been a while, but it’s still too fresh. My dad was murdered on February fourteenth. Two years ago tomorrow. I was crying so hard, pleading with him to be strong and stay alive, that I didn’t…” She touched her ears as if blocking out sound. “I didn’t hear the curtain open behind me. If I would have reacted… sensed that something wasn’t right… if I had been aware of my surroundings like my dad had always instructed…”
Cannon grabbed both of her hands and squeezed. “God, Rosalie. I’m so sorry. It must have been hell for you to be in this hospital all week.”
“It was at first.” She squeezed his hands back. “But it somehow got better.”
Irene entered the conference room. “Agent Zenner, Devon is here.”
