Free The Sketcher's Mark (Lara McBride Thrillers Book 1) by Chris O'Neill Page A

on.”
    “The more time we waste debating whether this is happening or not is more time for the trail to go cold.  And you know the chances of finding missing persons become almost impossible after forty eight hours.  Witnesses forget, security footage gets erased and they slip through the cracks.”
    “I understand that this is personal so, if I may ask, in your professional opinion, is it possible that you may be overreacting?”
    She looked at the picture of the beautiful young woman on his desk.  It was a single shot of her, backlit by the sun on what looked like a college campus.  Not a wedding picture and she could see a family resemblance in the eyes.  His daughter then.  Brouchard was a good man and she hated herself for what she had to do next to give push him in to helping her.
    “I’m assuming that’s your daughter in the photograph.  Did you raise her yourself after your wife died? How would you feel if it was your daughter who went missing?  ”
     
    Brouchard bristled and sat back in his chair, his fingers rolling the wedding ring over in circles. 
    “You’re very clever, Detective. I had no doubt.  But manipulating me is beneath you.”
    “I’m just trying to find her before something happens.  I’m sorry.”
    “I had help from my sisters.  She was ten when her mother passed away.  She handled it very well.  Strong girl.  Like her mother.”
    “Can I ask what happened?”
    “She was misdiagnosed.  The doctors gave her the wrong medication.  She had a reaction.  Slipped into a coma one day and never woke up.  Long time ago but I remember holding her hand in the hospital every night and sometimes she would squeeze me.  Even though she was asleep I like to think she knew I was there.  Reaching out for me.”
    “I’m sure she did.”
    Lara saw his eyes flick briefly to the picture of the girl and felt she was going to get further with Brouchard than she had with Derek Shaye.
    “And what ransom did this man demand?”
    “He didn’t demand a ransom.”
    “Not much of a kidnapper, is he?” Brouchard mused.  “Seems to defeat the purpose.”
    “Only if the purpose is for monetary gain.  He didn’t take her for money- which rules out a sex trafficking ring or a shakedown.”
    “It is unusual for those people- I use the word ‘people’ loosely, you understand- to prey on tourists. Especially Americans.  It brings unwanted attention, so they tend to ply their trade with women from Eastern Europe with few family ties, people who will not be missed.  Most of those girls are here illegally, no official papers, which makes it even harder for us to know if they’ve gone missing. I must say I’m very impressed how you can speak so objectively about these events.  That must be difficult for you.”
    “I can’t afford to be emotional.  I could miss something if I’m not thinking straight.  So where do we go from here, Inspector?”
    “We will need to fill out forms and get her picture to every Police station in Paris.  I will see to it personally. And I will call Interpol in case he’s tried to take her out of the country.
    “Can we expedite that?”
    “There is a process.”
    “I see how well your process works from those faces on the wall.”
    “Another low blow, Detective.”
    “Why are you the only person in the unit?”
    “Because the rest of my squad are out trying to find those people on the wall.”
    “Touche.  I know you don’t make the rules.  But could you bend them a little?  I’ll sign your books for you.” She smiled, trying to lighten the mood.  Brouchard laughed.  She’d won him over.
    “Where are you staying?”
    “In the same room of the same hotel where she was.”
    “You have to admit there is little even for somebody with your experience and skill sets to go on. I do not think your missing persons posters will do anything except perhaps alert this man you seek that you are here to find him.”
    “I figure there’s an outside