The Roubaud Connection (Genevieve Lenard, #12)
Estelle Ryan
Chapter ONE
“Doctor Lenard! I need to speak to Doctor Genevieve Lenard! Where is she? Canada has five hundred and sixty-one lakes. Doctor Lenard!”
I stepped away from the closing elevator doors onto the plush carpeting of Rousseau & Rousseau’s foyer. This had been my place of work for six years as an insurance investigator, using my analytical skills and expertise in nonverbal communication to detect any and all attempts at insurance fraud.
Then my life had changed five and a half years ago. A number of people had blasted into my carefully organised existence to help with an investigation. My autistic mind had rebelled against their neurotypical chaos and unconventional methods. But I hadn’t been able to deny the success we’d achieved working together. Three years ago, we’d moved our team room from this building to the one adjacent, all the while investigating crimes most often related to art. Today those interlopers were not only my team. They were my family.
Another panicked shout came from the direction of the conference rooms and I looked at Vinnie.
“Told ya so.” The tall man was my best male friend and self-appointed protector of our investigative team. He was wearing his usual dark combat trousers and a tight long-sleeved t-shirt that accentuated his muscular build. He rolled his eyes in a manner befitting the young adult voice yelling from the conference room. “He’s been here for ten minutes and has not stopped his fact-screaming.”
“This is not normal.” Colin, my romantic partner and international thief consulting for Interpol, took a step closer to the conference room. “He hasn’t lost control like this in many, many months.”
“True dat.” Vinnie’s corrugator supercilii muscles contracted in a concerned frown. “Usually Phillip manages to calm him down in a minute or two. Nothing is working at the moment.”
“Doctor Lenard! The Dead Sea is sinking about one meter a year! Doctor Lenard!”
I’d met Caelan Dupre three and a half years ago when he’d noticed a pattern of kidnapped students. The first time I’d seen him, he’d not received any care or guidance whatsoever to manage his autistic behaviour. After the conclusion of the case, my team had worked hard to get Caelan the care he needed.
Phillip Rousseau, the owner of the high-end insurance company we were currently in, had ensured Caelan had behavioural therapy with the best experts in this field. He and Colin had helped Caelan finish his high-school diploma and enrol in university. They’d even helped him change his surname when he’d insisted on having his own identity—completely removed from his past.
I didn’t see him often. Even though he worked extremely hard to manage his autistic behaviours, I found it uncomfortable to be around him. For obvious reasons, it was unthinkable that I would ever disparage anyone for struggling with impulses that were a result of that person’s neurological make-up. But his behaviour triggered stimming—repetitive body movement—in me that I’d worked years to control. Therefore I avoided him.
“Where is she? I need her help. Doctor Lenard!” The higher pitch in Caelan’s voice alerted me to his distress.
“Ah, there you are.” Timothée Renaud walked into the reception area. In the four years he’d been Phillip’s personal assistant, I’d not once seen him dressed in a manner that did not measure up to the latest fashion trends. He glanced at me, then studied Colin’s designer black trousers, tailored midnight-blue shirt and Italian boots. “Looking good, Colin.”
“What about me?” Vinnie put his hands on his hips and moved around like women did when studying a new outfit in the mirror.
Tim tilted his head and raised one eyebrow. “You’ve got the brutish look down pat, Vinnie.” Tim had lost most of his fear of Vinnie. It had taken him years before he could jest like this. He turned and pointed over his shoulder towards the conference room. “Seriously though. Are you going to help Phillip calm that young man down? He needs your help in there.”
“Doctor Lenard! Greenland is three times the size of Texas!”
I pulled my shoulders back and inhaled deeply. “Let’s hear what is causing him to be so anxious.”
“Goodie.” Tim’s relief was genuine. “You go calm him down. I’ll go get him some white food and milk.”
We walked past Tim’s heavy wooden desk and down the short hallway to the largest of the three conference rooms. I entered the room and was immediately glad Phillip had chosen the larger space for this meeting. Caelan was pacing against the far wall, his shoulders in constant motion as if he was trying to dislodge a weight resting around his neck.
He jerked around when he noticed us and rushed towards me. “Doctor Lenard! I’ve been calling for you. Why did you take so long to get here? Russia spans eleven time zones!”
I took a step back and raised both my hands. “Stop.”
He did. And stared at my left shoulder, his eyes wide. “You must help me!”
“I will listen to what you have to say, but first you need to lower your voice.”
His chin dropped and his stare moved to my shoes. “I’m not in control.”
“We can see that, superman.” Vinnie walked around me and sat down in the first chair. He’d built a strong relationship with Caelan and at one point had given the young man this ridiculous moniker. “Why don’t you sit down and take a few deep breaths.”
“I can’t!”
“Of course you can.” Phillip’s deep voice brought warmth to my chest. He’d used that reassuring, yet strong tone with me many times in the decade I’d known him.
Caelan nodded and shuffled to the chair next to Vinnie. He dropped into it and immediately started scratching his thigh. Even though his distress was evident, he appeared well-groomed. His jeans and sweater were clean and fitted him well. His fingernails were short, no longer bitten to the quick, and his curly black hair was cut short.
He took three forced breaths before he exhaled loudly. “Nothing is working. Since Jace disappeared, I haven’t been able to get control back. The Atlantic Ocean is saltier than the Pacific Ocean.”
“Who’s Jace?” Colin pulled out two chairs and waited for me to sit before he took a seat. “Your friend?”
“He’s my partner.” Caelan glanced up at me, then back at his thigh where he was now tapping a rhythm with his index finger. “He’s like us.”
“Coffee for everyone and milk for our young guest as requested. And some sugar-free cookies.” Tim walked in and put a loaded tray on the table. He winked at Caelan. “I don’t think you need anything that will give you more energy, right?”
“Wrong!” Caelan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He swallowed and in a more controlled voice said, “I need more energy. I need to find Jace.”
“Um. Okay.” Tim took a few steps back and glanced at the door. “I’ll be at my desk if anyone needs me.”
“Thanks, Tim.” Phillip reached for the tray and distributed the steaming coffee mugs. “Take a few more deep breaths, Caelan. Then you can tell us why you need our help.”
“Hey, everyone.” Daniel Cassel, the leader of one of the best emergency response teams in France, walked in and sat down across from Vinnie and Caelan. He was in full GIPN uniform and shifted until Caelan’s eyes were no longer glued to his holstered handgun, but rested on his shoulder. Daniel smiled. “I’m so glad to see you, Caelan. I’m in the middle of my shift and I popped in next door. But then I heard you were here and I had to come and see you. How are you?”