Not So Innocent (Shattered Glass #2)

Chapter Thirteen

SSA Dan McCleary had gone completely silver during the last three years. The hair color made him seem distinguished, but the rest of him looked as if he’d worked at a cattle ranch his whole life. As much as Cai despised the man, he had such interesting lines and shadows for a portrait. Cai mapped every feature, especially the eyebrows which zapped out of McCleary’s forehead like cat’s whiskers.

Oh, crap. Begone. He had to—

“Are you ready, Mr. Strakosha?” Agent Kelly Marks asked.

No. I need to get my cat. I need to paint. I need to run. This room is too small. Too many people staring, calculating.

“Cai?” Angelica’s small hand squeezed his shoulder.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

Ready to puke.

Ready to pluck those brambles masquerading as eyebrows off McCleary’s face.

Cai pulled his feet up onto the chair and hugged his knees to his chest. That ought to look vulnerable enough. Agent Marks’s face softened, but McCleary continued to glare. Cai’s stomach threatened to eject blue coffee all over the table. He hugged tighter, like it’d hold in the vomit. At least he wouldn’t have to pretend to get sick.

“I would like to start with the meeting at Jim Diedrich’s office where you allege you overheard the threat to Julian Thompson,” Agent Marks said gently. “May I call you Cai?”

“Yeah.” He liked Kelly Marks. She had a no-nonsense tone that was somehow warm. But, while the goal of his body language was to elicit her sympathy, he wished she’d stop talking down to him. Although, it did make him feel less guilty about the lies. And, boy, did he have some lying to do today.

“Okay, Cai, you said you were commissioned for a mural at Diedrich and Associates. You were quite young. Can you tell me how that came about?”

“Dare, my brother, he’s political. He volunteered for the senator’s first campaign. He likes him because he’s a strong supporter of marriage equality.”

“I don’t follow. Did Senator Cole or your brother recommend you for the job?”

“If I don’t tell you this part, I’ll just have to backtrack.” Cai found a white smudge near the cuff of Agent Marks’s blazer. Flecks of tissue clung to the fabric where she’d tried to scrub the stain off. That focal point kept his gaze from wandering to the right—where Riley sat with a notepad and pen. “Dare works security at a leather bar downtown. He also has a small shop, more like a kiosk, inside where he sells leather...stuff that he makes. Anyway, he held a fashion show at the bar to raise funds for the Senator’s campaign. I’m not usually allowed inside, but I was one of the models.” The lies hadn’t started yet, but he felt Riley’s gaze from across the conference room. Don’t look at him and you won’t blurt out anything. “There were a lot of monied gay men there so even though the fundraiser was, well, there , Senator Cole came anyway for, like, the last half hour. On their way out, they shook hands, said some platitudes and moved on. I got the feeling they were uncomfortable being there because they both left so quickly.”

He skirted around, avoiding but not lying, keeping focused on the smudge, on McCleary’s wild brows, and on the cream-colored walls. So many lies were about to come flowing out of his mouth.

“They?” Riley asked.

“Huh?” Oh no. He frantically went over what he’d said. Stupid, stupid. “Yes, his campaign people.”

Guilt made him blush harder. All the lies. Could Riley get past them? One day, Cai would confess everything. When he had Tommy away from his father. Away from FSI.

When Julian was satisfied. When they had justice.

Dang. Someone asked a question. What was it?

Agent McCleary’s eyebrows came together like two giant caterpillars kissing in the center of his forehead. “What does this have to do with how you got the job?”

“Okay, so, Austin’s dad, Desmond Glass, has the top criminal law firm in the state. Same one as Angelica. Big, well-connected clients. And Desmond is trying to make amends with Austin. His way of doing that is to throw money and favors at all of us. He steers wealthy clients to Austin’s private investigation business. Peter gets translation referrals. And Darryl, who is obsessed with politics right now, well, he gets a paid political internship with one of Desmond’s clients, Walter Cole. Desmond also knows Senator Cole’s corporate attorney, Jim Diedrich, who wanted a mural in his waiting room.” Cai pointed to himself. “The fundraiser wasn’t important except I needed to explain how I knew Senator Cole’s voice because... well you’ll understand. The whole Julian thing happened about three weeks after I started the mural.”

“The incident where you somehow overheard a hit being ordered on Julian Thompson?” Agent McCleary asked. If sarcasm had a face, it’d be that one. “Did you hear anything that led up to this discussion?”

“Nothing led up to it. Senator Cole, and a bunch of what I guess were his personal security men, charged past the secretary’s desk and into Jim’s office. The Senator just starts yelling about this blogger in England who—”

“How could you hear the conversation? The doors were open? A window? They were that loud?”

Tread carefully . Cai looked sideways and bit his cheek. “Not um, not exactly.” Maybe he could get away with the lie without actually lying.

“But you heard it clearly?”

“Yes.” Cai pretended to be fascinated by his cuticles. Wait ‘til McCleary asks. The longer this drew out, the deeper he’d blush. “Um.”

“How? Were you in the room?”

Did a listening device count as in the room? He felt a nervous rash developing along with a burning heat on the back of his neck. Though ‘under the desk’ was exactly where they’d hidden the bug, Cai couldn’t meet a single gaze in the room. He pointed under the table. “Under...erm.”

“Under?” McCleary asked.

Riley wouldn’t be able to read embarrassment from a lie, and that helped. Cai motioned under the table again. At this point, he couldn’t be sure if it was the lying or the insinuation that he’d given the man oral sex that might cause him to burst into flame.

Riley belted out sudden laughter. He coughed to cover it up and shielded his mouth with his hand.

McCleary’s whole focus was on Cai. “Mr. Strakosha, how, exactly, did you overhear—”

“Sir,” Agent Marks interrupted.

“What?” he asked, turning to her at the same time he snapped out the question. Something in her expression must have clicked because he rolled his eyes upward. “Oh, for Gods—” McCleary smacked his fist on the table. Everyone’s pens rattled. He cleared his throat and cracked his neck with a jerk. “What did you hear?”

Cai jumped at the chance to move on. “Senator Cole yelled something like, ‘get an injunction’, except with expletives. Mr. Diedrich answered that he was limited in what he could do. There was a lot of arguing back and forth, and then Walter Cole said, ‘Handle it, Porter.’”

“And you took that to mean?”

“Well,” Cai said. “I didn’t have to interpret because Jim said not to do anything rash, and Maxwell Porter told Senator Cole to leave.” To really sell this lie, he’d practiced calling Mr. Diedrich ‘Jim’, but no one had noticed. Or had he forgotten to do that? He tried going over his speech but Kelly motioned for him to continue. “I guess the Senator left ‘cause the door opened and closed. Then Maxwell Porter asked for what Jim—er Mr. Diedrich— had on Julian. There was a lot of paper rustling and then Max said, ‘This a current address?’ Jim didn’t answer at first, then he said ‘It’s just a blog post, Max. Leave it.’ Then Max said, ‘Thompson needs to go away. For good. Since you can’t do your job, I have to.’” The most blatant lie he’d ever told and the collective frowns said he hadn’t pulled it off. Max had actually just said he’d ‘take care of’ Julian, but that was too vague for the FBI. He was almost forced to lie about it, right? “I don’t know what happened then. There were some more papers rustling, but Jim didn’t do or say anything until Max left.”

“Then you flew to England to warn Mr. Thompson?” McCleary laced enough sarcasm into that question that it would’ve impressed Austin.

“Not right away. But it’s not something you email someone, is it? ‘Hi, professional killers are after you. Best of luck’?” Another cough came from Riley’s corner of the room. Caught off guard, Cai almost smiled. He bit his lip instead. “No one is going to respond to that. I tried to call to at least introduce myself, but he was in Afghanistan. So, I friended him on social media and when I found out he was returning, I made sure I was in London.”

“Why not just call when he returned? Or contact the police? Or Agent Cordova? Or me?”

“For the same reason email wouldn’t work. He wouldn’t believe me. And we both know why I wouldn’t talk to you, Agent McCleary. And J—Mr. Diedrich is a nice guy. I didn’t want anything to happen to him. Senator Cole is dangerous.”

“Your mother is in WitSec. You knew we could protect Jim Diedrich. You spoke to Agent Cordova weekly. Why didn’t you at least go to him?”

He’d known the question was coming. Had practiced his answer for that too. One look at Riley and the lies deserted him. “I just...um...I just didn’t.” I didn’t want to lie to you. I couldn’t explain bugging Jim Diedrich’s office. I couldn’t explain going after Cole. And I wasn’t going to risk losing my chance at Tommy.

Angelica whispered in his ear, “Is this something incriminating?” Cai nodded. “Move on, Agent McCleary.”

“Your client understands that it is illegal to make a false statement to a federal agent, doesn’t he?”

“Nikolaj is here voluntarily,” Angelica said. “We can always leave, Special Agent McCleary.”

“And I can always arrest him.”

“For witnessing a crime?”

“For the murder of Nikolai Dyachenko.”

The curve of Angelica’s red lips told everyone in the room she’d been waiting for that threat. “Go ahead. I look forward to wiping the floor with any US attorney craven enough to file charges for a crime committed by an eight-year-old who was being held hostage by a man nicknamed ‘The Nail’.”

Cai almost wished they’d arrest him for that. The threat of prosecution had hung over him for far too long. At the same time, being arrested again, sitting in jail? He dug his nails into his palms. Would he be in handcuffs soon? His heart suddenly felt like he’d drank fifty cups of espresso and snorted ten vials of cocaine.

“Let’s get to how you obtained the video of Maxwell Porter in London,” McCleary said, ending the stalemate.

“Let’s not, Agent McCleary. Nikolaj has already stated that he won’t divulge that information. I’ve instructed him to assert his fifth amendment rights in regard to how he obtained the video.”

McCleary glared at her and mumbled something under his breath. “What do you know about Patrick Lemelin, aka Zip Drive?”

Cai waited for a nod from Angelica before answering. “Nothing. He didn’t want to deal with me or Julian. Only Rachel. She got his name off an email from the cell phone that Maxwell Porter, um...” Cai looked at the ceiling while trying to find a word that would exculpate them. “…misplaced in London.”

“Patrick Lemelin led you to James Thorpe?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how Patrick found out the information in the first place. He told Rachel that James Thorpe fed Jonathan Dexter the MV Lion Star coordinates. Zip could have asked Mr. Thorpe about it. Maybe Zip blackmailed him for the information. I don’t know.” So many lies. He winced. It wasn’t like he could announce that Rachel had engineered her way into the information through Zip.

“What did Patrick Lemelin give Rachel Lange? Was it a computer?”

How did they know about that? The overhead lights were suddenly very bright and very hot. Everyone’s eyes directed at him, expectant and narrow in their distrust. “You’ll have to ask Rachel,” he said weakly.

“Where are Rachel Lange and Julian Thompson?”

“I don’t know.”

McCleary slapped the table again. “Mr. Strakosha, you were with them last night. Where are they?”

Cai felt a hysterical laugh bubble forth. The one thing he’d said that was one hundred percent truthful and McCleary wasn’t buying it. “I told them not to tell me.”

“Agent McCleary.” Angelica clicked her pen like she was passing sentence. “Now is a good time to break for lunch.” She stood and tapped Cai’s shoulder. “That wasn’t a question.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Didn’t have to tell him twice.

* * *

Riley and Kelly stood just outside the conference room reading their notes while Dan barked orders in his office down the hall. He was pissed and everyone on this floor was going to suffer for it.

“Think McCleary and the lawyer are boning?” Kelly asked, watching her boss as he threw a pen at his desk.

“Sure seems like it,” Riley said. He looked up from his notebook. “Why?”

“Getting your take on why this ‘interview’ is going precisely how she wants.” Kelly shrugged. “McCleary and Nikolaj don’t like each other. It’s not helping things. You know him better. Would McCleary react poorly if I suggested that you or me take over, without him interrupting?”

“He’s not that thin skinned, but I can’t see him sitting out the interview,” Riley answered. He tried to think of questions that would prove useful to the interrogation. “Having me do it is a mistake,” he added while going over his notes again. “Cai will get nervous and unresponsive. Or just stare at my lips the whole time.”

“You’re flipping pages in that notebook like this is an open book exam.”

“I’m going over my notes on his story. What kind of desk has enough room for someone over six-foot-two inches tall crammed under it? How did no one notice him?”

“Why would he lie about that?”

“To cover up how he found out? If Jim Diedrich told him about the meeting with Senator Cole that would be a breach of attorney client privilege. Maybe he’s covering for him?”

“That’s as good a theory as any,” she said. “How does that help with the interrogation?”

“I don’t know. Usually he’s transparent, but he’s prepared for these questions. There’s enough truth mixed with embarrassment that I can’t distinguish the lies. We need to get him off script.” Riley studied Kelly. Maybe she was the key to getting a step ahead of him. If that was possible. “What do you know about Cai?” he asked. “His personality? His history?”

“I read the case files, but I haven’t formulated enough of a profile to push his buttons like you can.”

“I think you should treat him like a child. Talk to him as if he’s an eight or nine-year-old. Not for the whole interview, just until you make him angry enough to break character.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a risky move when he’s here voluntarily. You sure it’s the right one?”

“No. But it might get us a real response. With McCleary he’ll get angry enough to leave. If I do it, he’ll be hurt and shut down. He likes you, which means he’ll be more forgiving.”

“How do you figure that?”

Riley returned to his questions and tried to ignore the lingering scent of Skittles in the air. “Everything about his behavior is engineered for you to view him as young and immature. I think if you overcompensate, he’ll be angry and frustrated, but blame himself.”

Angelica breezed by with Cai in tow. A mist of sugar and her citrus perfume followed them.

Kelly left to intercept McCleary on his way back.

When they were all sitting at the table, Cai again hugged his knees to his chest while popping candy and gulping soda like they were all that kept him alive. His foot abused the chair, making it squeak in protest. McCleary’s jaw clenched.

The posture was a shield but also said, ‘Look, I’m just a kid, I’m fragile.’ Manufactured or not, Riley needed the reminder of how vulnerable and boyish Cai was. Four hours ago, he’d kissed him, deciding that they could take things slow—see if a relationship matured Cai. A spur of the moment decision when Riley needed to banish the look of terror on Cai’s face. What was he thinking? It was a bad idea a year ago and an even worse idea today.

Kelly directed a warm, almost maternal smile across the table. “Hello again, Nikolaj.”

“Cai.”

“Cai, then. Are you doing okay?”

“Would you be?” he asked, finally making eye-contact with her, though he quickly looked away. If he had skin left around his nails after this, it’d be a bloody, pulpy mess.

“No one is arresting you, sweetie. You’re here to help us.” Kelly offered a condescending smile.

McCleary squinted at the gesture but quickly resumed his glaring.

Cai stopped shredding his fingers and gripped his knees. “I’m nervous, not five, Agent Marks. We all deal with anxiety differently. I just happen to use my body as a defense mechanism. I’m also high on sugar and trying to keep five steps ahead of a cycle. Please don’t mistake my body language as a call for condescension.”

Don’t treat me like a child. Don’t talk down to me. Use the name that I choose.

There you are, Cai. Nothing fake about that response.

One moment Cai appeared a vulnerable boy, the next he set boundaries, defined his behavior, and shot down attempts at manipulating him. All while holding his own against three FBI agents. This plurality of Cai’s personality felt like the pages of multiple biographies had been dumped in Riley’s lap. It fascinated him.

Cai fascinated him.

Agent McCleary cleared his throat, interrupting the awkward silence. “The Thorpe estate.”

Angelica leaned over and whispered in Cai’s ear, her hand wrapping around his shoulder. He settled his feet to the ground, though they tapped no less mercilessly against the carpet. “We got there around seven.”

“How can you be sure of the time?” McCleary asked. His attempts to throw Cai off with interruptions might have worked, if Angelica was dumb enough to allow it.

“It would be best, Agent McCleary, if you allowed my client to speak. Or shall I advise him to assert his fifth amendment right?” Angelica Jackson earned every one of her fifteen hundred dollars an hour. As well as her nickname: The Fifth Angel.

McCleary propped his elbow on the table and massaged his temple. “Would he like to conduct his own interview, too?”

“Just ask your questions after he’s done, Da— Agent McCleary.” Pink tinged Angelica’s cheeks as she recrossed her legs. “It’s in your interest not to make him more uncomfortable.”

“And I need straight answers, Ms. Jackson.”

“It’s all right,” Cai said to Angelica. “I’m guessing at the time, sir. I got off work at six. Julian said it was about a forty-minute drive, but there was snow, and the streets were icing over...”

The fidgeting grew worse as the story progressed, but Cai’s voice remained neutral, minus the occasional stutter. Angelica handed him a legal pad and pencil. He pulled it over and began sketching, visibly relaxing as he drew.

Riley grimaced and shifted in his seat while the pencil moved across the page. It was almost like watching a child meeting with victim services.

Until Cai blew that comparison away, too.

He ripped the page off the legal pad and shoved across a rough portrait of a man. The eyes were so meticulously detailed, Riley could pick him out of a lineup. Then Cai started on another sketch, recounting his story in that emotionless tone.

As Riley stared at the image, a vile, growing knot of hate spread in his stomach, eclipsing other emotions. The sickening urge to kill, to close his fists around the throat of these men, raised the hair on his arms and neck. He tore his gaze away to focus on Cai. I would kill anyone to keep you safe. I know that now, and it terrifies me. This abhorrent feeling is not who I am, nor who I want to be. How can I want you when my feelings for you make me less humane, less empathetic, less ethical?

“There were at least three of them.” The pencil stopped. Grey eyes lifted from the paper to meet Riley’s briefly then went back to the page. Cai’s feet settled, the tremor left his voice, and his tone became robotic. “Two chased me on foot, and at least one pulled a car ahead of me. I couldn’t see it very well through the trees, but I believe it was black, possibly a Grand Cherokee—the body was similar.” He sketched the car through the trees while talking about bullets and men chasing him through the snow. Like it was nothing. Like he was describing dinner.

As the story continued, the lights seemed to dim. A cramp worked its way into Riley’s back and then to his fingers. The portrait at the center of the table blurred out the rest of the room. Riley zeroed in on the man’s eyes. His arm shook from the grip on his chair.

* * *

With no more nails left to chew, Cai grew cranky, ready to snap. Each tick of the clock hanging on the wall found a nerve ending in his spine and sent sharp pains stabbing into his brain. He scowled as the hour passed twelve.

Riley hadn’t spoken a single word in eight-thousand four hundred and one ticks. He’d just stared at the drawings with this mix of disgust and rage.

Meanwhile, Agents Marks and McCleary hadn’t shut up. Question after question. Cai started to tell them about Julian whacking the gunman in the head and was interrupted again.

“A blow from that branch caused this much damage?” McCleary handed an envelope to Angelica. “Come on, now.”

She opened it, sorted through pictures, and volleyed back, “Head wounds bleed. And let’s not forget my client was shot.”

Cai tuned it all out. Let his lawyer deal with it.

Pretending to bite his nails, he covertly touched his mouth, wishing he hadn’t already licked Riley’s taste off it. What had instigated that kiss? How could he make it happen again? Did he have the right to kiss Riley while his layers of lies had yet to dry? He snuck a glance over at Riley while continuing his sketch. The other three people faded from the room.

He hadn’t really faced the truth before today. Dare had warned him, but Cai was too enthralled with the other Riley. The one who never picked up a comb on the weekends. Who wore tattered jeans with holey sneakers and spilled guacamole on his favorite orange t-shirt when he watched football a little too excitedly. Riley, who grabbed a hammer or chisel the moment he walked in the door after work.

In this place, Riley’s suit was immaculate, his hair in perfect order, his shirt white and crisp and clean. The badge on his belt shone from a recent polishing. This office, this building, they meant something to Riley. And Riley was a different person here.

“I killed him.” The words popped out before he could think of the repercussions. Everyone went silent. “Well, I shot him.”

“Cai!” Riley bolted out of his chair. “Be quiet.”

“I’d like to speak to my client alone, please.” Angelica spoke evenly, but she frantically squeezed Cai’s wrist.

“Who did you kill?” McCleary asked. “James Thorpe?”

“Don’t answer that, Cai. I’d like to speak with my client. Leave, all of you.”

“Your client just admitted to killing someone.”

Agents McCleary and Marks fired questions across the table. Angelica repeatedly demanded they leave. While pandemonium broke out around them, Cai and Riley stared at each other.

“I—”

“Don’t say another word, Cai. Not one word,” Riley said.

Cai quieted. Not because Riley ordered it or because he was afraid for himself. He did it because Riley looked...anxious, standing there, scratching the back of his head. He looked scared. That hadn’t been the intention of his confession. He’d meant to erase some of the deceit and give them a cleaner place to start. Had he misread things? Wasn’t that what Riley needed? A piece of truth? The only truth he could spare without betraying anyone.

“Agents, if you do not leave, I will terminate this interview. My client asserts his fifth amendment rights.”

Agent McCleary drove his finger at the tabletop, it landed with a hard thump. “He just admitted to killing someone.”

“He was mistaken. He told you it was dark, and men with guns were chasing him. Allow me to speak to my client and I will decide whether this interview continues. Or it ends right this minute.”

“Interview paused at fourteen thirty-six hours.” Agent McCleary straightened his coat and pressed a button. “My office, Cordova. Now,” he said, and exited with an angry stride.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut before Angelica sighed and flopped back. She threw her pencil on the table. “What were you thinking?”

Yeah, what was he thinking? “I can’t keep lying. I feel like I have too much to keep track of. Will they arrest me?”

“For someone trying to stay out of jail, you’re not making it easy on me.” She pushed the stack of photos over to him. “What do you see here?”

Cai shuffled through the pictures. Droplets led away from a larger blood stain. Huh. Should have aimed for the head. Julian was a bad influence. “I still shot him.”

“You missed. Okay? As of this moment, you missed all three shots. You were in fear for your life. Luckily, you shut up in time.” She picked up her pencil again. “Now, after today, Cai, I would really like us to go at least ten years without you starting a conversation with ‘I killed someone.’”

“Ten years is a long time, Ms. Jackson.”

* * *

Before McCleary could close his office door, his administrative assistant, Virginia, popped out of the elevator and yelled, “Wait!” She flew down the hallway, her pencil skirt hindering her progress as much as the load of papers in her arms. “Agent McCleary. Sir! Just a moment, please.” Breathless, she tossed a stack of files on her desk and handed over a pink Post-It. “Senator Cole and his son are here to speak with the agent in charge of the Thorpe case.”

“Have they been waiting long?”

“Fifteen minutes. Sorry, sir, I was in records when they arrived.”

“Damn.” He turned to Kelly. “Cole went to Princeton with the Director. We can’t keep him waiting longer. Are you ready for this interview?”

“I’d like to speak with Maxwell Porter first, but since he’s not answering his phone or returning calls, we’ll make do,” Marks answered. “Let me grab the case files.”

After she left, McCleary said, “Go with Marks. I’ll finish the Strakosha interrogation.” He grabbed Riley’s arm as he started to follow her. “Anything you haven’t told me?”

Dan was his mentor, his first partner on his first big case— the man who taught him everything and who could pave the road to Riley’s future. He quashed the impulse to defend Cai and rushed to assure McCleary his job was his priority. “I wouldn’t hold anything back that you need for this interrogation, sir.”

“He didn’t tell you about the shooting before you got here?”

“No, sir. His brother insisted he have a lawyer, and I brought him here directly after we made arrangements for Ms. Jackson to be present. I wanted to make sure everything was on the record and admissible. Just like I did right now.”

“Is that what you were doing?”

“Yes, sir,” Riley said, meeting McCleary’s glare without so much as a twitch. If he were completely honest, he didn’t know why he’d intervened.

“Sir,” Kelly piped up from the hallway, a small stack of folders tucked under her arm. “Senator Cole.”

“Go.” McCleary waved them off.

Outside the other conference room, Kelly handed Riley the files, yanked at the cuffs of her blouse and then pulled her blazer together to button it. “Can’t decide. You or me go in first?”

“Being questioned by the junior agent might make him angry. Do you want him ticked off?”

“Nah. Just off guard and uncomfortable. You go in first. Let him think you’re in charge. Stand in front of me. I want him to ignore my presence. If you don’t ask any questions, he can only get mad at himself for assuming you’re in charge. He’ll be a lot nicer if he believes he came across as sexist.” She reached for the doorknob. Just before she opened it, she whispered, “By the way, OCD, you and the SSA aren’t the only ones who need to talk.”