Free Claimed by the Secret Agent by Lyn Stone Page A

minutes. After identifying themselves, they spoke with Acting Chief Brunson to get the details.
    Marie automatically stood aside and took the subordinate role for practical reasons. Grant might obtain more information directly than she could, since they were dealing with a man.
    “Cynthia Rivers was abducted from her flat on Ruysdahl between two and three this morning,” he informed them. “Her roommate, who tends bar at one of the nightspots in the Center, found Cynthia missing when she came in from her late shift. She said there were signs of a struggle.”
    “Could we see her file?” Grant asked.
    “Our personnel records are strictly confidential,” Brunson said. His glance fell on a blue folder on the side of his desk.
    “If you have a photo of her, that might be helpful,” Grant told him. “Perhaps you could answer a few questions about her that wouldn’t compromise her privacy?”
    Brunson looked doubtful, but he drew the folder in front of him and opened it. A photo was clipped to the top right-hand corner, and he removed it, handing it to Grant.
    Marie lasered in on the upside-down form as Grant fired off questions to distract Brunson. Then she shifted her gaze to the typed copy opposite the form and recorded that. The fifteen seconds or so that Grant afforded her had to be enough because Brunson closed the folder and set it aside.
    “Thank you, sir. You’ve been a big help.” Then Grant took her arm and turned to leave. “Let’s go.”
    She prayed they could find the young woman before she was harmed. “We’re going to her address, aren’t we?” Marie asked after they’d left Brunson’s office.
    “Yeah. Your head map still working? Where is it?”
    Marie stopped and closed her eyes, visualizing the map of the city she’d committed to memory. “It’s a straight shot going toward the A10 exit.”
    “How efficient you are, little MapQuest,” he said with a short laugh. “What would I do without you?”
    “I doubt Rivers will be ransomed, Grant. She’s a small-town girl, went to a community college, then on scholarship to Mercer University. Her father’s a landscaper and her mom’s a housewife. They live in Shelby, Arkansas.”
    “You got that from her file? Reading it upside down?”
    “Are you impressed?” she asked with a smile.
    “Utterly astounded. Let’s go find this young lady.”
    When they reached the apartment building, police cars blocked the street. People were going in and coming out like ants.
    Marie didn’t envy the police collecting evidence. “Not exactly a secure scene, is it?”
    Grant strong-armed his way through the crowd near the entry, flashed his badge and asked for the chief inspector. Marie held up her badge and followed in his wake, curious to see what he would do next.
    He had a few words with the inspector, who acted friendly enough to a strange American agent elbowing his way into an ongoing investigation.
    Grant could be pushy—that was for sure. She didn’t realize just how pushy until he reached behind him and grabbed her hand, dragging her along to the apartment.
    Cynthia Rivers had fought for her freedom. It hadn’t been nearly as easy as when the kidnapper took her, Marie thought. “Could this have been a different guy, maybe? The timing for one thing. And there were never signs of a struggle.”
    Grant shrugged. “Maybe.” He left her at the door and went inside the room as if he belonged there.
    What the hell was he doing? Contaminating the scene, for one thing. Hindering the forensics person, for another. The gloved woman didn’t look quite as agreeable as the inspector had and was railing at Grant in Dutch.
    He ignored her, picking up first one scattered object,then another and another. Eyes closed and tuning her out. Or maybe tuning in to something else.
    Now he was holding a bath sponge, of all things, squeezing it between his hands. He sniffed it and made a face. Marie felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
    Could he really get