Chapter 11 #2
I follow her back into the sitting room, but I’m no longer in the mood to banter about a bar mitzvah for Mitzi. Instead, I coax the conversation in the direction of one of her shows, and she tells me all about the latest plot twist instead of engaging me in her chatter.
By the time I’ve gone through two drinks, I’m relaxed and warm inside. A little too warm, really, and I almost unwind the scarf before I catch myself.
“I’m going to head home,” I say when she stops to catch her breath. I get up so I can kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Gran. I love you.”
“I love you too. I’ll call you later to schedule our next meeting.” Gran smiles at me. “Stay safe, Liam. I do worry, with all the murders in the city.”
“I always stay safe,” I reassure her.
I don’t tell her that I’m the one they should be afraid of.
All right, that sounds a little dumb, too. It takes a lot for me to actually take someone out, and if I was attacked, I wouldn’t stand much of a chance. But I can take care of myself well enough.
Probably.
“See you later, Gran.” I tap on my phone to request a ride, then head outside to wait when I see that the closest driver is only five minutes away. Perfect.
I get out to the street. It’s gotten a bit chillier, and I wrap my arms around myself to ward off a breeze.
Two men approach me from either side.
One of them is taller than me, with graying black hair and a round nose. I wouldn’t have looked twice at him at a bar, or really, anywhere.
The other guy is about my height, portlier, with blond hair in a crew cut.
Both of them are wearing suits.
“Liam Cohen?” the taller one says. “I’m Agent Stratford. This is Agent Redding. We’re with the FBI.”
I want to answer with something glib, but I don’t want to poke the proverbial bear. Instead, I smile at them. “Oh, hey,” I say. “I’d love to talk, but my lawyer is busy today.”
“You aren’t under arrest,” Redding says. “We were only hoping to ask you a few questions.”
I nod along. “Of course,” I say. “You can ask them when my lawyer has a chance to sit in. Gran was awfully specific about that, and you know what they say. A boy can never disobey his grandma.”
I think it’s a saying.
Or maybe it’s supposed to be something about a mama’s boy.
Whatever.
Stratford nods. “Of course. Why don’t we escort you down to our offices, and you can tell your lawyer to meet us there.”
“Mmm…” I pretend to think about it, then shake my head. “Not today. Unless you’re saying I really am under arrest…?”
Shit. Fuck. How stupid can I play this? How stupid should I play this?
Redding crowds me from the other side.
They’re both bigger than I am. If they wanted to, they could haul me into their black-paned vehicle, and I wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight.
“You aren’t under arrest,” Stratford assures me. He holds out a business card. “But we really do insist on sitting down for a chat.”
“You insist,” I repeat. “Wow, this sounds an awful lot like coercion.” I take the business card from him. “I’ll have my lawyer give you a call when she has time to babysit.”
“That’s an interesting choice of words,” Redding comments. “And that’s an interesting scarf. I didn’t think it was that cold outside today.”
For the first time since committing that sloppy murder, my blood freezes in my veins at the idea that there might actually be consequences.
Huh.
I didn’t think I could care, really, but it seems like I’m not ready for a trip to prison just yet.
“I run cold,” I tell him dismissively.
“Or you’re trying to hide something,” he says.
He’s already standing close to me, and my heart thuds in my chest as he stares at my neck.
Oh, fuck.
“Has anyone told you that you’re a very suspicious person?” I ask, taking a step away from him. “And I like my personal bubble, thank you very much, so if you could take a few steps back…?”
Stratford clears his throat. “We really only need you to ID a few people. Come down to our office and we’ll clear everything up. It’ll only take an hour of your time.”
“Okay, so I already said I would,” I say, irritated. “It’s not my fault you’re not listening to the whole ‘when I can get a lawyer there’ part of what I’m saying.”
A car is approaching, and I point at it.
“That’s my ride. My lawyer will be in touch,” I say, turning away from them.
Redding grunts. “Make sure she does. We’d hate to have to actually bring you in for obstruction.”
I wave a hand in dismissal, climbing into the sedan that’s pulled up to the curb.
Fuck them. Fuck this.
Fuck me.
I ignore the driver, instead calling my father. “I need to borrow your lawyer,” I tell him without preamble. “Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything wrong. Just some stupid misunderstanding.”
“What type of lawyer?” my father asks. “Is somebody suing you?”
I’m grateful he doesn’t even question me.
“Criminal law,” I answer nonchalantly. “The FBI interrupted a lunch Gran and I were having. They claim I witnessed something. But I know the rules. Never talk to law enforcement without a lawyer.”
My father grunts in assent. “I’ll forward you her information. If she asks you a question, you answer truthfully. She can’t help you if you don’t do that. But whatever it is, don’t tell me or your mother.”
“Got it,” I say. I hang up.
I notice the driver eyeing me suspiciously in the mirror, and I arch a brow. “Look, I didn’t kill anyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. You’re safe.” I settle back in the seat and close my eyes like I don’t have a care in the world.
But the truth is, I’m actually nervous.
I wish I could talk to Ryker.
Two weeks. I just have to wait two weeks.
Assuming I’m not in jail.
Fuck.