CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ilse watched as an obese, bald man in a bright Hawaiian shirt stormed into the interrogation room, his double-chin wagging and a thick finger jutting towards Agent Sawyer.
“You b***h!” he declared.
“Good to see you, too, Rudiger,” Sawyer replied, his tone bored.
Ilse, who'd been sitting primly in one of the metal chairs fidgeted with the clip-on, blue visitor badge.
The large man glanced towards Ilse, pulling up short. He frowned, his face wrinkling like dough in a pan. “She with you?”
Sawyer frowned. “She's helping on the case.”
Rudiger gave Ilse a long look, then grinned. “I like your hair,” he said. “It suits your face. You'll have to tell me the name of your barber.”
Ilse blinked, refusing to glance at the man's entirely bald head and instead just smiling faintly
