Free 3 The Braque Connection by Estelle Ryan

kidnapped us and set you up for murder. You know this.”
    “I don’t know this, Jenny. The arsehole’s been after me for decades. Who’s to say he hasn’t been planning this all along?” He leaned back in his chair, his glare at Manny filled with malevolence. “If you knew about my safe house, why did you ask for the GPS co-ordinates to send your Scotland Yard friend?”
    “I wasn’t going to take a chance that my intel was faulty. Not when Doctor Face-reader’s life was on the line. Why the bleeding hell am I explaining this to you, cretin?”
    I looked at Phillip, irritation tightening my voice. “Why aren’t you calming everyone down and mediating as usual?”
    He lifted both hands in surrender. “I don’t want to interfere. You are doing exceptionally well.”
    “No, I’m not. They’re not using logic.” I realised my arm was still in front of Colin. I pulled it against my torso and turned to him. “You are far too intelligent to assume that Manny would murder someone to accumulate evidence to have you imprisoned. Murder, Colin. Murder!”
    That was it. I stood up and grabbed my handbag.
    “I think I have been handling the last few hours extremely well. Your need to lash out at each other, and Phillip, your lack of intervening is exasperating. I’m going to my viewing room. Don’t even consider entering unless you have started using real logic and not immature, fearful verbal attacks on each other.”
    I slung my handbag over my shoulder and walked to the door, ignoring the shocked looks. The control I conducted myself with was slipping and noticeably surprising everyone. On an intellectual level, I understood the need people had to attack. It created a false sense of proactive behaviour, a reflex reaction to counteract the feeling of powerlessness. On a personal level, I found such behaviour to be counter-productive.
    After waking up in a strange country and expending copious quantities of energy on holding black panic at bay, I did not have the mental wherewithal to tolerate neurotypical reactions to fear. I needed to analyse, process and focus on work, on data. I needed to watch footage. I needed to be alone .
     
     

Chapter FIVE
     
     
     
    “Jenny?”
    A warm hand squeezed my forearm, bringing me back to my viewing room. I opened my eyes to find myself huddled on my large office chair, clutching my knees to my chest. Colin had swivelled my chair and was sitting across from me, watching me with great intensity.
    “What time is it?” My voice sounded far away. I had worked through a few files on my computer before mentally writing Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major to put some order to my thoughts. The strain in my muscles indicated that I had been in this position for a lengthy period.
    “Just after three.” Gently, Colin uncurled my fists and held my hands in his. “Are you okay?”
    I nodded. Once I had started writing Mozart, the full impact of what had taken place, of what I had seen on the monitors must have overpowered me. I had been in my head for four hours. If I were sitting with my feet on the chair, curled up in a protective position, it was safe to assume that I had also been keening. I cringed.
    “No one else has been around.” Colin must have seen some nonverbal cue to my thoughts. “It’s only us.”
    He nodded towards the thick glass doors. In the team room, Manny was sitting at his desk, Francine and Vinnie at the square table with two computers open in front of them. All three were looking at me. Were it not for the sincere concern dominating their expressions, I might have been much more ashamed of my show of weakness.
    “Is this from being kidnapped or something else?”
    I assumed he was referring to my shutdown. With a grimace, I dropped my feet to the floor and pulled my shoulders back to stretch my back muscles. It was a mistake. Stretching made me feel the bruising on my stomach. I hunched my shoulders. “Both. I think you had better call the