I have to admit, her theory does sound plausible. Far more plausible than the idea that I have in my unwitting possession some mythical object that Petrov is desperate to recover.
“I guess that makes sense,” I murmur. “I should’ve known Paul wasn’t actually interested in winning me back out of some twisted sense of love or husbandly duty.”
Sykes pauses tactfully. “Right. Well. As of now, this remains a theory. We haven’t found any sort of paper trail yet.”
“But you will?”
“If it exists, our analysts will find it. They’re the best in the world.”
My head tilts as something occurs to me. “I thought, when they took Paul, my part in all of this would be over. But if you’re right about this — if they can’t access the funds without my authorization… they’re going to keep coming after me, aren’t they?”
“It’s unlikely they’ll pursue you now that they know the FBI is involved. As soon as we locate the accounts, we’ll freeze whatever funds they contain. Their only shot would be to grab you before we have a chance.” Her eyes narrow. “And we don’t plan to let that happen.”
I pull in a shaky breath, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded. “What does that mean for me, exactly?”
“For the time being, it means you’re stuck here where we can keep an eye on you.”
“Great.” I grimace.
“It shouldn’t be too much longer. We’ve got every available agent trying to track down the stolen money, running your name through every database known to man. If that account exists, we’ll know about it soon. That’s the beauty of a paper trail — follow it to the end, you always find your treasure.”
My lips twist. “Files don’t lie?”
“Precisely.” Her eyes crinkle up. “Oh — before I forget — I have something for you,” Sykes says, reaching into her bag. “Your phone. I grabbed it from your purse when we were doing a search of the house. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion — I just figured there might be someone you’d like to call…”
“Thanks. That’s really nice of you.” I take the phone and charger cable from her. The battery is dead, so I plug it into a nearby outlet.
Sykes is watching me carefully. “Have you talked to your family at all since…”
“Since my life exploded? No. My parents and I are on more of a HEB schedule.”
“HEB?”
“Holidays, emergencies, birthdays.” My smile is weak. “We’re not all that close.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s nothing new. They never approved of me getting married so young. They pretty much cut me off as soon as I told them about Paul.” I laugh, but it’s joyless. “Ironically, I think that’s one of the reasons I tried to make it work with him for so long, even after things went cold between us. A part of me thought if he turned out to be a shithead, it meant my parents were right about him. Right aboutme.”
“Ah. And you’re afraid, if you call them now…”
“It will just validate what they did — cutting off their daughter because they didn’t approve of her choices.”
“I’d tell you they’ll come around eventually, realize the error of their ways, and apologize, but…” She shoots me an empathetic look that says she understands my struggles all too well. “Parents have a unique ability to constantly point out their children’s mistakes without ever taking accountability for their own.”
“Truer words never spoken.”
“What about your friends? Can you talk to them?”
I wince. “I don’t want to burden them.”
“I doubt they’d see it that way.”
“One of my friends is pregnant — about to pop, no exaggeration — so she definitely doesn’t need this stress in her life, trust me. Another has two toddlers under the age of three, so every day is already a catastrophe without me adding drama to the mix… One is on her honeymoon… Another is sailing around the world…” I trail off. “So, it’s just me. On my own. Again.”
Sykes is staring at me with sad eyes.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sykes! I’ll start to think you actually have a heart.”