Page 16 of The Protection Agreement

I find another piece and put it in place.

“How did you get into puzzling?”

“My mom was a doctor; she disliked leaving me with nannies, so she would put a puzzle in front of me to challenge me, also to keep me occupied while she saw patients. The moment I complete a puzzle, she brings the next batch, and I get rewarded with ice cream. As the number of pieces increased, the challenge got bigger.”

“Smart woman.”

“That she was, in everything but love.” Her voice is low, but I sense a wall in there.

I watch her eyes scan the pieces and she places them in the spots. I find a few and find myself happy to fill in the pieces.

“She didn’t love your dad or her daughter?” I ask to keep us talking. She’s like a mystery on a battlefield that needs solving before you can proceed.

“My parents loved each other deeply, and loved me just as much, that I’m certain, but their love was not a fairy tale ending; it was a fiery passion. A true case for cautionary tale.”

“Isn’t fiery passion something we all want?” I pose the question. A passion that never burns out I believe is what we all crave, or am I wrong?

“I think we long for the fairytale ending that comes from such passion, not just passion with chaos.”

“Fairytale isn’t what it’s hyped to be. I’ll take passion,” I say.

“I’ll say good luck to you?” she states.

“Which would you rather have?” I challenge. She meets my eyes and gazes at me for a split second. There’s a spark hiding behind the sadness of those brown eyes.

“Right now, neither. I just need to survive,” she answers, returning her attention to the puzzle. I’m intrigued; I’ve found my own puzzle that I need to put together in a slow and steady pace.

“If your attacker was found and you could return to your normal life and you had to choose between fairytale and passion, which would you choose?” I push for more answers.

“I deal in facts and data not hypothetical. My attacker isn’t found. So, I can’t give you an answer. I can say my parents loved each other, which was beautiful to watch but chaos sometimes destroyed that beauty. In my dad’s last days, I doubt he saw me. I believe he saw my mom. I look exactly like her; her name was his last dying word. Until I’m in love like they were, I can’t tell which I would choose.”

“Fair enough. I’ll ask again when we find your attacker.”

She nods as we fall into a palpable silence, putting the pieces together.

My phone pings. I rise to call Ice. He answers right away.

“Survey is done; everything is in place. We have guys keeping a close eye on the unit.”

“Good. Come back to the office,” I say.

“Malik said he has update on the Amrit guy and the last unit,” he informs.

“Conference room; ping me when you arrive.” I sigh. Maybe we can make some headway. I don’t like how this attacker is controlling her life.

I sit at my desk and access the file I know Malik would have shared some of the information.

I read the note but it’s not clear. I need a face-to-face conversation.

I lean back in my chair and watch her. Puzzling is her escape from reality, just as she’s the puzzle I must figure out and protect like the fragile masterpiece that she is. Watching her is becoming quite easy for me.

I turn back to my computer to work on a few things and address some emails. My phone pings with a text message.

Declan: Still good for tonight?

Me: Sorry, let’s cancel. Work. Reschedule?

Declan: Fine, will let you know.