Truth & Lies: A Queen City Justice Novel Read Online Free Page B
Author: Elizabeth Bemis
Tags: Police, Military, fbi, Mail-Order Bride
what you need to do. Just give me a heads up before you spend any of the department’s money.”
Deck suspected that eighteen months ago, it would have taken a lot longer to convince Rupert to let him follow the lead. Rupert thought he was keeping Deck busy. And while that thought annoyed the hell out of Deck, not having anyone hanging over his shoulder make it easier to carry on.
Monday, November 10—10:45 a.m.
Cincinnati FBI Field Office, Kenwood Neighborhood, Cincinnati, Ohio
An hour and a half after breaking from their first meeting, the entire team reconvened in the war room. Dana had spent the time poring over the evidence reports, looking for a scrap of hope they’d find this bastard before he hit again in mid-December or, if their dubious luck ran out, before.
“Rodriguez—what do you have?” Sherwood prompted.
“Eight missing Eastern European girls who came to America and then disappeared. At least six of whom used Dream Come True, one of whom was Anka Pierovich.”
“Good work. Thompson?”
“I got in contact with Dream Come True as a prospective groom. The ‘marriage consultant’ assured me she had the perfect bride,” he said. “Here’s how it usually works. A woman in Eastern Europe, Asia, or Latin America goes to her neighborhood matchmaker, who puts her in touch with a service like Dream Come True. They match her with a stateside groom who is—and I quote—‘tired of the mind games and gender politics that have taken the sincerity and fun out of the Western dating scene.’” Eric rolled his eyes. “Generally, the groom goes and meets his new bride in her country. The local matchmaker helps the happy couple apply for a fiancé visa, and the groom flies home and waits. Once the visa comes through, the bride comes to the States, they live happily ever after, yada yada yada.”
He spoke in a deep baritone, which had a knifelike edge-of-danger sound to it. And that was a lot more accurate to his personality than his appearance, with entirely unremarkable features and dark, Men’s Wearhouse suits that didn’t quite fit.
“When I explained that I might have difficulty getting away from my multibillion-dollar empire, the marriage consultant said she could probably spare me a trip abroad, which sounded fishy. She explained that a small percentage of the gentlemen find that their bride wasn’t what they’re looking for, so they have leftover brides. She was quick to assure me, of course, that it’s never the fault of the brides, as they have been thoroughly vetted.”
“Do we have any proof that any girls actually walk down the aisle with a real groom?” Sherwood asked.
Eric nodded. “She gave me a list of references—local men who’ve used the service. I tracked down a couple of them, and it would appear that, for them, the service was everything it was supposed to be.”
Sherwood turned to Dana. “Yenichek, tell me I’m remembering your background correctly and that Croatian is one of the forty languages you speak.”
It was more like eight languages, but Croatian was her first. “Of course.” She’d lived with her parents in Croatia until she was eight. Later, she came to live with her grandparents. Baka and Djed spoke only questionable English until they’d died, so she’d always spoken Croatian.
“That’s good to hear.” Anyone else would have been jumping in the air, but Mr. Cool-and-Collected just nodded calmly. The man was an ice cube.
“What do you have in mind?” Dana asked, an equal mixture of apprehension and excitement coursing through her system. She’d do anything that would get this sadist off the streets.
She wasn’t even surprised when he said, “Pack your bags. You’re headed home.”
Chapter Three
Wednesday, November 12—11:00 a.m.
Kavana Dubravka, Brsalje ul, Dubrovnik, Croatia
The dark blue waters of the Mediterranean gently lapped at the rocky shoreline and Dana sat in the open-air café, enjoying the perfection of
Deck suspected that eighteen months ago, it would have taken a lot longer to convince Rupert to let him follow the lead. Rupert thought he was keeping Deck busy. And while that thought annoyed the hell out of Deck, not having anyone hanging over his shoulder make it easier to carry on.
Monday, November 10—10:45 a.m.
Cincinnati FBI Field Office, Kenwood Neighborhood, Cincinnati, Ohio
An hour and a half after breaking from their first meeting, the entire team reconvened in the war room. Dana had spent the time poring over the evidence reports, looking for a scrap of hope they’d find this bastard before he hit again in mid-December or, if their dubious luck ran out, before.
“Rodriguez—what do you have?” Sherwood prompted.
“Eight missing Eastern European girls who came to America and then disappeared. At least six of whom used Dream Come True, one of whom was Anka Pierovich.”
“Good work. Thompson?”
“I got in contact with Dream Come True as a prospective groom. The ‘marriage consultant’ assured me she had the perfect bride,” he said. “Here’s how it usually works. A woman in Eastern Europe, Asia, or Latin America goes to her neighborhood matchmaker, who puts her in touch with a service like Dream Come True. They match her with a stateside groom who is—and I quote—‘tired of the mind games and gender politics that have taken the sincerity and fun out of the Western dating scene.’” Eric rolled his eyes. “Generally, the groom goes and meets his new bride in her country. The local matchmaker helps the happy couple apply for a fiancé visa, and the groom flies home and waits. Once the visa comes through, the bride comes to the States, they live happily ever after, yada yada yada.”
He spoke in a deep baritone, which had a knifelike edge-of-danger sound to it. And that was a lot more accurate to his personality than his appearance, with entirely unremarkable features and dark, Men’s Wearhouse suits that didn’t quite fit.
“When I explained that I might have difficulty getting away from my multibillion-dollar empire, the marriage consultant said she could probably spare me a trip abroad, which sounded fishy. She explained that a small percentage of the gentlemen find that their bride wasn’t what they’re looking for, so they have leftover brides. She was quick to assure me, of course, that it’s never the fault of the brides, as they have been thoroughly vetted.”
“Do we have any proof that any girls actually walk down the aisle with a real groom?” Sherwood asked.
Eric nodded. “She gave me a list of references—local men who’ve used the service. I tracked down a couple of them, and it would appear that, for them, the service was everything it was supposed to be.”
Sherwood turned to Dana. “Yenichek, tell me I’m remembering your background correctly and that Croatian is one of the forty languages you speak.”
It was more like eight languages, but Croatian was her first. “Of course.” She’d lived with her parents in Croatia until she was eight. Later, she came to live with her grandparents. Baka and Djed spoke only questionable English until they’d died, so she’d always spoken Croatian.
“That’s good to hear.” Anyone else would have been jumping in the air, but Mr. Cool-and-Collected just nodded calmly. The man was an ice cube.
“What do you have in mind?” Dana asked, an equal mixture of apprehension and excitement coursing through her system. She’d do anything that would get this sadist off the streets.
She wasn’t even surprised when he said, “Pack your bags. You’re headed home.”
Chapter Three
Wednesday, November 12—11:00 a.m.
Kavana Dubravka, Brsalje ul, Dubrovnik, Croatia
The dark blue waters of the Mediterranean gently lapped at the rocky shoreline and Dana sat in the open-air café, enjoying the perfection of
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