family and her rushing him so we could party. Guess he didn't like working hard so she could play.'
'And that's all you remember about it?'
'Yeah, that's it. Like I said, it was no big deal.'
'Is there anything else you want to tell me?'
'Like what?' the woman asked.
Stall tactic. Answering a question with a question. Sonja erected a speed bump in Becca's path toward the truth. What was she hiding now?
'Like who was driving the Mercedes? Did you get a name?'
'Yeah, I got a name. But I have to tell you about the necklace first. It's all connected.' Sonja fixed her eyes on Becca. 'I know who gave Isabel the necklace, the heart with the diamonds. She got it from an older guy-'
Becca's heart sputtered to a stop. She held her breath, again expecting the name of Hunter Cavanaugh to come up. 'Who? You know the name of the guy?'
Sonja nodded, her face in shadows. 'A guy by the name of Matt Brogan gave it to her. I don't know where he got it or nothin', but Isabel told me he gave it to her. She was real proud of it, you know?'
'And he's the guy who drove you to the party? The one with the Mercedes?'
'Yeah, he's the one.'
Matt Brogan? Becca remembered him. She had met the guy at Cavanaugh's and made a note of his name in her casebook. Now her mind flooded with speculations. Becca wouldn't have considered Brogan an older man, but to a teenager seven years ago, he might come off that way. Plus, the guy had the money to afford the necklace and drive a Mercedes. And with his link to Hunter Cavanaugh, a man under FBI surveillance for human trafficking, the pieces to Becca's mystery were falling into place.
Was Cavanaugh back on her list of suspects, or was Brogan operating on his own? From what she remembered, Brogan gave off a nasty vibe. A real cold fish. Could he be operating a prostitution ring under the nose of his rich boss, or was Cavanaugh giving the orders?
No matter which way things turned out, Diego had to be told. This put a whole new slant on his human- trafficking angle. All Becca wanted to do was see Diego ... to talk to him ... to be with him. He had become her oasis in the dismal wasteland of this case.
'But you gotta promise me,' Sonja pleaded. 'Don't tell Brogan I was the one who told. He'd kill me if he found out.'
'You think Matt Brogan still remembers you? I mean, seven years is a long time ago.'
'Oh, believe me. He remembers how we met, and the bastard knows who I am.'
'How can you be sure?'
Sonja took her time answering. She lit another cigarette, gathering up the courage for one last push of her story. Becca witnessed the toll it took. The young woman swallowed hard, her breathing coming in short gasps like she was hyperventilating. Sonja ran a hand through her hair and cleared her throat.
'The party ended, but not for me. Matt Brogan kept me for himself and some of his . . . men. The things he made me do . . . and without the drugs? I remembered everything.' She wiped her face with a sleeve, her mascara smeared. 'He threatened to kill me if I ever told.'
Sonja looked like she wanted to throw up. Even in the shadows, her face looked ghostly white, and her lips trembled. When she lifted the cigarette for another drag, she stopped and spoke in a shaky voice.
'I learned the hard way. Matt Brogan is a sadist, as vicious and cruel as they come. And he may be the one who killed Isabel.'
CHAPTER14
Fusion on the River Restaurant
10:50 P.M.
Once more, Brogan excused himself from dinner with a phone call. This time, he never returned. Diego pretended not to notice his absence, but it weighed heavy on his mind. And he felt certain Cavanaugh recognized his discreet signs of anxiety, despite his efforts to hide them.
Diego picked at his meal, forcing himself to eat, smile, and carry on a conversation. In sharp contrast, his host looked very much at ease. He challenged Diego's intellect with discussions of local politics and the business climate both domestic and abroad. And the man even speculated about the long-term impacts of the energy crisis on the travel industry. Normally, Cavanaugh had no patience with idle chitchat, but tonight, he reveled in it, with a shrewd smirk on his face.
By the time coffee was served, Diego's neck was knotted with tension. His eyes darted for the door or out the window, his concentration long gone. They were practically the only customers in the place, but with Cavanaugh's connections to the owner, the man took advantage of his pull.
Could he trust Draper to watch over Rebecca? Remembrances of his afternoon with her haunted him, along with the distinct feeling it may have been for the last time. A premonition or the product of an overactive imagination, he had no idea. Either way, his wariness betrayed him to the man who latched onto another's weakness with a stranglehold.
'You look distracted, Diego.' Cavanaugh's pale blue eyes looked glacial. 'Anything I can do to help?'
Smug didn't begin to describe Cavanaugh's face. He beamed with a mix of contempt and self-importance, setting Diego's temper on edge. He had grown tired of playing by the man's rules. Up until now, biding his time had allowed him to operate under Cavanaugh's nose without notice. And over the last couple of years, he had a sense Cavanaugh had grown accustomed to his being around, the closest he might get to trust from the man.
But during the last week, something had changed. Cavanaugh scrutinized him with the same interest he had in the beginning. A lab rat before the start of a grand experiment. But once the rat served its purpose, it got tossed out belly-up and stiff as a board. Diego glanced down at remnants of their cheese course and understood where the rat analogy came from, but it didn't make him feel any more in control. He ventured a change in direction.
'If this dinner was a game of football, I'd have to penalize Brogan for delay of game,' Diego observed. 'Do you have any idea where he slithered off to?'
'I'm not a fan of sports metaphors, but I do commend your rather late offensive maneuvering. Mr. Brogan has duties to attend to. Orders of mine, to be precise. Why?'
Cavanaugh stressed the words 'orders of mine' and dared him to ask his meaning. But a frontal assault would only feed the man's ego. Diego needed a different approach.
'No reason. I thought he might like a doggy bag.' Diego smiled at Cavanaugh's surprised reaction when he didn't rise to the baited question. 'On paper, the merger with Global Enterprises has been mutually beneficial, wouldn't you agree?' he asked, watching Cavanaugh cock his head in question.
'Yes. I believe you know how I feel about your generous employer. I would like to think we have a rather lucrative future together. And I certainly enjoy the infusion of cash into my international travel enterprise. Why do you ask?'
'You should know I did the original financial analysis of the merger and brokered the deal to Mr. Rivera. But in the end, I recommended against it. I was overruled and assigned to direct the transition period. Mr. Rivera wanted his resident skeptic to be satisfied.'
'And are you?' the man asked.
'In short, no. I get the sense you don't trust me as the business liaison between our two... organizations. You appear to keep certain aspects of your affairs to yourself. Unexplained trips and undisclosed meetings with certain clients. If we are building a relationship for future endeavors, I believe a more solid base of trust should be mandatory.'
'I agree, but I had no idea how strongly you felt on the subject. Interesting.' Cavanaugh sipped his coffee and peered over the cup.
'If you don't have faith in me, I fail to see how this business opportunity with Mr. Rivera can be optimized to the fullest. I intend to discuss the matter with him, in fact.'
'Bravo, Diego.' Cavanaugh sat back in his chair, a broad grin on his face. Soulless eyes flickered with a touch of humor. 'Get a man's attention by trying to snatch his wallet. I suppose dinner should be on you.'
'Is that all you've got to say?'
'Can you be discreet, Diego?' The man leaned over the table. Before he replied, Cavanaugh waved his hand,
