Free Her Spy to Have (Spy Games Book 1) by Paula Altenburg Page A

on building a friendship.
    He got his chance not long after dinner.
    Once the dishes were cleared and the children settled in the family room, tired out from a long day and waiting for bedtime, Isabelle said she had a book she wanted to finish and went upstairs.
    Peter lounged on one leather sofa, his socked feet propped on a cushion. He still wore a dress shirt and trousers from work, but he’d ditched the tie and jacket. Garrett sat in a recliner in front of the television, comfortable in his T-shirt and shorts. Cartoons were on, and he was collecting ideas for Christmas presents based on Beth’s reactions to the commercials. Chelsea sprawled across Garrett’s lap, her thumb in her mouth and a finger twirling a rust-colored curl. Her eyelids kept drooping, then popping open, as she fought to stay awake. Cheryl was in Peter’s office at the front of the house, the door open in case someone needed her, working on some papers she’d brought home.
    Garrett leaned over the armrest of his chair and prodded Peter’s shoulder. “Hey. Your son’s asleep on the floor.”
    “So he is.” Peter sat up. “Kiefer, come on, bud. Get up. It’s time for bed. Cheryl!” he called to his wife. “Grab a kid.”
    A half hour later, all three children had brushed their teeth and were in their pajamas. Despite loud protests that they weren’t sleepy, Kiefer and Chelsea passed out seconds after their heads hit the pillows. Beth had a book Cheryl was reading to her.
    Garrett and Peter met on the second-floor landing outside Kiefer’s bedroom.
    “I’m going to go watch the news upstairs,” Garrett said.
    “And I’m going to go book family seats for that one-way space trip to Mars,” Peter replied. “Since we’re exchanging alibis.”
    “Funny.”
    His brother-in-law, normally so easygoing, lowered his voice. He shot a glance loaded with significance at the third floor. “Seriously, Garrett. About Isabelle. You might be able to get away with a lot more than most people when it comes to nosing around in someone’s business, but we have privacy laws in this country—harassment ones, too—and I’m an elected official. I’ve got to be seen following the rules. Try to remember that, okay?”
    Which was why Peter should never have interfered in the first place, Garrett longed to point out, but didn’t. If Isabelle had gone off to some third party home where her employers were totally ignorant of his investigation, as he’d planned, there’d be no problem for them. Now Peter wouldn’t have ignorance to use as a defense. While it might not create problems for him with the public since any official reports would be whitewashed anyway, it well could in private, among the other elected members of Parliament.
    “I’ll remember,” Garrett said.
    He climbed the stairs to the third floor. He walked past his door and approached Isabelle’s. He listened outside for a few seconds, but heard no sounds within. He rapped on the door with one knuckle, not wanting Peter or Cheryl, only a level below, to hear. He got no response, so he knocked louder.
    Still nothing.
    She couldn’t have fallen asleep. It was barely past eight o’clock. The sun hadn’t yet set. He inched the door open. Maybe she’d taken her book to read in the bath.
    When he peered into the suite, the bathroom door was open and the room was obviously empty. The bedroom door through the sitting area was also wide open. That room, too, was empty.
    “Isabelle?” he called softly, still mindful of Peter and Cheryl.
    No answer. The television was off. Her book and laptop both sat closed on the coffee table.
    Where could she be?
    There was nothing else up here but a linen closet, and an attic that took up the other half of the third floor. Garrett went out in the hall. He rattled the attic door, but it was locked. Cheryl didn’t want the children playing in there and accidently trapping themselves in.
    That left only one place.
    He shook his head, half impressed, one