marshals on the night shift started for the exit. “Quinn is on his way here,” Simms said, and then opened the front door. “We’ll be back this evening. Have fun.”
The echo of the door clicking shut filled the small cabin. Colton looked at Lisette, who prowled the perimeter, glancing out each window. “I’m surprised those two didn’t wake up Saunders right before we showed up.” He strode toward the hallway to check on their witness.
“You’re going to wake him?” Amusement laced Lisette’s voice.
“You know the adage about never waking up a sleeping baby? I think it applies in this case, too, but I want to check on him.”
Her light laughter drifted to him as he made his way down the short hallway, checking the bathroom before opening the door to the bedroom. Saunders stood at the small window peering out.
“If you’re thinking of escaping, I’m not sure you would fit through it. In fact, I know you wouldn’t.”
Saunders stiffened his shoulders and pivoted toward Colton. “I thought I was rid of you, that they would fire you for your incompetence yesterday.”
“That incompetence is what would have saved you if those guys had been assassins. You could be dead if I had waited around to chitchat with them.”
“How do you know they weren’t sent to kill me?”
“Because we set up your cover well and those guys are being checked out thoroughly. We won’t proceed if they don’t check out.”
“Then how in the world do I know if I’m safe here?” Saunders pursed his mouth, thinning his cheeks.
“Unless you called someone, no one knows you’re in Denver.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Colton spied Lisette coming down the hall.
“You do. And the other two marshals guarding me last night.” Saunders’s eyes flared. “And her.”
Colton gritted his teeth. Lord, where is that patience?
Lisette positioned herself to his left and slightly behind him. “Mr. Saunders, I’m from the FBI and here to ask you some questions. Please come into the living room.” Her voice held a hint of a Southern accent, warm and almost inviting, adding a certain charm to her words.
Saunders stared at her for a long moment. “At least this lady is nice to look at. Can’t say that about the other one.”
Tension whipped down Lisette’s length and flowed from her in waves. “I beg your pardon.” The glare she sent Saunders would put most people who were smart in their place.
But not their witness. He roared with laughter. “Sassy, too. I bet you’re a handful.”
“In the living room, Mr. Saunders,” she said in a tight, husky voice, her Southern drawl more pronounced, but nothing warm and inviting in the tone anymore.
Interesting. The more angry Lisette Sutton became, the more her Southern heritage came out. Colton let Saunders move into the hall where the man faced Lisette.
“What are you afraid of? That some man might think you’re pretty if you let your hair down, took off those ridiculous glasses and wore proper feminine clothes?”
Lisette drilled her sharp gaze into Saunders to the point he frowned and continued his trek into the living area without another word.
“Are you okay?” Colton almost felt indignant for her at the sneer in Saunders’s voice.
She lifted her chin. “Of course. I won’t let someone like him get to me.” She adjusted her brown-framed glasses and followed Saunders.
“I heard that, little missy,” Saunders said with a laugh.
She didn’t break stride but kept going into the main room. Colton trailed her, admiring how she walked—like a soldier going into battle.
Silently he applauded her bravado. He’d read she was a good interrogator; this was one of the reasons she was assigned to this case. Saunders had been playing games with the U.S. Marshals Service from the first moment he was arrested in the warehouse and told them he had information that could lead to the downfall of a large child-smuggling network. He either had to produce useful information, or he would go to jail per the agreement Saunders had signed. Colton hoped Lisette could draw the information out of him.
Lisette sat at the kitchen table that seated four and gestured for Saunders to take the chair across from her. Colton decided to stand back and assess the witness while she started the interview.
She opened the folder she’d brought concerning the case, her movements precise, deliberate. “I see here you claimed that Joe Delacorte’s death was the tip of the iceberg, as per your conversation with Marshals McCall and Summers, who talked with you last in St. Louis. So what are you implying?”
“Can’t you read?” Saunders flipped his hand at the folder. “It should be in there.”
“What was Delacorte messed up in?”
He came up from the chair and leaned across the table. “As I told the marshals in St. Louis, child smuggling from all over.”
“Please sit down,” she said in a calm, soft voice. “This can be an easy process or a long and difficult one that sends you to prison in the full population. You know how some criminals feel about crimes involving babies. It doesn’t sit well with them. There is no telling what could happen to you in jail, not to mention if your boss found out you had been talking to us to cut a deal.”
Saunders snorted but sank back in his chair.
Colton lounged against the kitchen counter to watch the match. She was good. His respect went up a notch. She glanced toward Colton, giving the witness time to think over what she had said. In the instant their gazes met, a connection linked them, more than this case. It held for a few seconds before she severed it and swung her attention back to Saunders.
Confused, Colton pondered his reaction to their shared look and nearly missed her next question.
“What were the plans for Sophia Duncan? Why was she singled out? And then what about the other children? Do they all end up in St. Louis? You said you had specific information to share with us.” She shut the file, crossed her arms and set them on top of the folder.
Colton forced himself to focus on Saunders. He didn’t need to be distracted by his temporary partner.
Saunders shrugged. “Don’t know about all the kids. I know from my brother Luke he took jobs in Kansas, Illinois and Iowa and those came to St. Louis.”
“But you don’t know about other states or where those babies ended up?”
“No, except Colorado. That’s why we’re here.”
“When your brother was arrested for the murder of Delacorte, did you take over for him in the organization?”
“Take over?” Saunders’s mouth twisted.
“Yes, your hearing is good. Did you take your brother’s place?”
Saunders
