Arnold remained frozen in his seat, but the face of the "poor, miserable Arnold" slowly began to fade. The fingers that had pretended to tremble just moments ago now clenched into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He did not turn around immediately, but his jaw hardened, creating a dangerous, sharp line across his face.
"Yes, Mr. Casso, the head of the network the FBI is hunting, he is the one who killed Jackson," a police officer said, chatting with his colleague.
Instantly, the tense muscles in Arnold's body relaxed. It turned out he had not been identified as Fabio Casso after all.
***
Deborah Hayes knocked on the teak door with a slightly trembling hand before stepping inside. Behind a large desk, her superior, a graying man with the hard facial features everyone called the Commander, sat quietly.
"Commander," Deborah began, her voice somewhat strained as the image of the man in the lobby still lingered in her mind. "There is a man claiming to be Leah Etmand's boyfriend. He is making an official missing person's report."
The Commander did not look up immediately. He placed his silver pen down slowly. "What is his name?"
"Arnold Hein," Deborah answered quickly.
Upon hearing the name, a thin, meaningful smile appeared at the corner of the Commander's lips. He pulled forward a brown folder with a red Federal stamp in the corner.
"It matches. That name is right here. According to FBI data, Arnold Hein is indeed Leah's boyfriend. The man owns a small restaurant, doesn't he?"
The Commander leaned back in his chair, casting a pitying look toward the door.
"Poor man. He must know nothing. He is just an ordinary civilian who happened to love the daughter of an FBI agent. He does not realize that he could be in danger too."
Deborah hesitated for a moment, leaning forward. "So what should we do, Commander? Should I tell him the truth? That the girl was kidnapped by a Mafia network?"
"No," the Commander interrupted quickly, raising his hand. "Do not involve him further. Telling him that Leah was kidnapped by the Mafia would only endanger the man's life. The Mafia will not hesitate to eliminate witnesses or those closest to their victims."
The Commander looked at Deborah seriously. "Go back down. Accept his report with the usual formalities. Let him feel that his report is being processed so he can have some peace of mind."
"Understood, Commander," Deborah replied. She turned to leave, feeling a sense of pity.
Deborah returned to the administration desk with softer steps, her face now radiating deep sympathy. She sat down and looked at the man before her with a regretful gaze.
"I am sorry, Mr. Hein, for making you wait so long," Deborah said gently.
Fabio, still in character as Arnold, gave a small nod. He set his jaw so it appeared to tremble.
"Can you tell me the timeline?" Deborah leaned forward, giving him her full attention as if Arnold were the only person in the room. "Such as, when was the last time you contacted her, or when was the last time you saw her?"
Fabio took a long, heavy breath. "I last saw her three days ago, at a motel on the outskirts of town," his voice was hoarse and shook slightly. "She. She said she wanted me to meet her father. We made an appointment to meet again the next day."
Arnold stopped mid-sentence, bowing his head and covering his face with one hand.
"It is okay. Take a breath, Mr. Hein. Compose yourself," Deborah tried to soothe him.
Fabio followed the instruction with brilliant acting. He took a deep breath, his tense shoulders slowly slumping, trying to show that he was truly in a state of panic.
"Please, continue," Deborah said softly.
"And the following day. She did not come," Fabio's voice was nearly gone, replaced by a tone of pure despair. "She did not show up at the place we agreed upon. Even to this second, she cannot be reached."
With a trembling hand, Fabio pulled his phone from his pocket and held it out to Deborah. "Look. Look at our conversation. She has not replied at all. The last message sent was two days ago, and it only ended with a single checkmark."
Deborah took the phone carefully. She began scrolling through the chat history between Arnold and Leah, reading every sweet word and their plans to meet.
"Allow me to record and secure this entire conversation history as evidence, Mr. Hein," Deborah said. Her voice was low and calm, though there was an undeniable firmness to it.
Arnold nodded slowly, the signs of exhaustion clear on his face. "Of course, please. Do whatever needs to be done."
Deborah moved efficiently. Her fingers danced across her device, copying every piece of information, meeting coordinates, and communication patterns Arnold provided with high precision. The room was silent, save for the sound of the keyboard.
When she finished, Deborah placed the phone back down and looked at Arnold. A friendly, reassuring smile appeared on her lips.
"Very well, Mr. Hein. I have received and recorded your entire report. Our team will begin the search immediately. Please remain calm and wait for further information from us," Deborah assured him.
"Thank you. I am placing my hopes in you," Arnold replied shortly. He stood up, adjusted his clothes, and gave a deep, respectful nod before walking out of the room, leaving Deborah behind.
Fabio's pace faltered for a second at the doorway as his eyes narrowed, catching the silhouette of a vehicle he recognized all too well. In the police station parking lot, a black car with a prominent FBI logo was parked. Two men stepped out, but Fabio's gaze locked onto one figure.
Mark Bernet.
Fabio's blood seemed to boil as he recognized that face, Jackson Sterling's trusted assistant and a name written on his execution list. That was the man who had recently begun to disturb his peace, sniffing out his trail like a bloodhound thirsty for gore.
Instead of turning away, Fabio slumped his shoulders. With a forced look of sorrow, he walked weakly and helplessly, hiding the predator within him behind the mask of a civilian who had lost his lover.
Fabio walked past Mark and his colleague with measured steps, almost soundless, maintaining his sad and helpless expression.
Fabio exhaled a breath of relief once the distance widened and he felt he had successfully avoided suspicion. But then, a sharp baritone voice shattered the silence of the corridor.
"Wait, sir."
It was Mark Bernet's voice. The call hit Fabio's ears.
Fabio gasped inwardly, his previously controlled heart suddenly beating wildly.