Hidden Tracks | ✓

08 | on a wednesday, in a café

"Soler, I swear to god if you keep on talking shit in my ear, I have a Glock 19 and I won't hesitate to shoot you with it."

"You wouldn't be able to shoot me even if you tried, your aim sucks."

"You're really testing my patience, you jerk, and just the day before the mission started I shot a dummy in the head right in front of you!"

"Yeah, got lucky, like I said."

"You-"

"Keep this up and none of us will be able to spot Isabella."

Miranda's voice crackled in my earpiece in the middle of the war of words I was having with Soler. I could hear him grumble about something in my earpiece and then Miranda telling him to shut up.

Yes, that's what the moron needs to hear all the damn time.

I was seated at Café de la Croix, and I'd managed to grab a table right next to the window. I could see Soler and Miranda standing on the other side of the street, ready to cross over once I texted them.

I was wearing a white shirt and tweed skirt, along with some minimal gold jewellery. A short blonde wig sat atop my head, complete with tinted glasses.

Overall, I looked like quite the Dr Susan Edwards I'd pictured myself to be.

Suddenly, as I was looking out of the window, I spotted a woman making her way over to the café. She was wearing a white shirt like me, but paired with black pants and a red tote bag.

It was Isabella Hill.

I quickly sent a text to Miranda, and pretended to be busy on my phone when Ms Hill entered.

She stood near the entrance for some time, pulling out her phone and typing something into it.

Just then, I got a text.

Isabella Hill: I've reached the café. Can you tell me what you're wearing so I can spot you faster?

Me: Hi, I'm sitting near the window, in a white shirt and tweed skirt.

She looked up from her phone, her eyes wandering over the café before they found me. I raised a hand tentatively, pretending I wasn't sure if she really was Isabella.

She smiled and made her way over to me.

"Hi, Dr Edwards, it's a pleasure to meet you," her voice was thick with the English accent. I couldn't quite place which part of England it was from. It seemed to be Yorkshire at times, but not completely so.

I frowned inwardly. Usually I was very good with accents, then why couldn't I place hers?

Nonetheless, I shook her hand and smiled. "Hi, Ms Hill, and the pleasure's all mine. Although I wish we could've met in better circumstances."

She let out a wry chuckle. "That's true. I just can't believe Amélie is missing. I read media reports saying that she's taken a break from the spotlight to focus on her mental health. That means her team must be trying to cover up her disappearance and keep it under wraps. Am I right?"

I nodded gravely. "That must be so. I mean, such a huge name in the fashion industry going missing won't bode well for their label. Her team must be trying to handle this very covertly."

"Then how did you get to know about it?"

"I actually had the police inform me about it. They called me to ask a few questions, since I was one of her closest confidantes."

Just then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Miranda and Soler enter the café together, and take the table diagonally behind ours.

Isabella frowned. "Funny. The police didn't interrogate me."