Chapter Fourteen #3
“On Pham details? Sure. Go for it. I want to do whatever it takes to ensure Pham stays behind bars.” And rescue Mylene Hathaway, but she didn’t want to share that with John Patterson. “Be warned, I’m quite the case study. He might not have notes on Pham. I’m more than enough to keep him busy.”
“Everyone feels like that after living through your kind of hell.”
It was scary that enough people had lived a similar life experience that John could generalize. “We could have him meet you here today.”
The pen clicked again. “That would be helpful.”
An awkward silence spread between them, as if he expected Angela to continue sharing. “I don’t understand exactly what you’re looking for,” she said.
“The most interesting details emerge in casual conversations. Simple ones after simple questions. Like, do you enjoy working here?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you feel safe?”
“There are probably fewer safe places in the world, given what my life is like.”
“What’s your life like?”
“You know most everything. Abduction. Captivity. Relocated for work. Someone tried to kill me because my mom blew my cover.”
“Is sarcasm one of the ways you handle stress?”
“That, coffee, and clothes.”
John’s lips flattened. “How familiar are you with different types of shock?”
“I have no clinical expertise. That’s Ibrahim’s bailiwick.”
“How familiar are you with an M-16 rifle?”
Her face skewed. “What? I’m not.”
“Mylene Hathaway,” John segued.
Angela refocused to keep up with the questions.
“You have Titan’s full support with your involvement, wherever that may take you. Whatever circumstances you find yourself in.”
“I know,” she agreed. “And I’ll be with Sawyer.”
“He’s a co-worker?”
Hadn’t they just been over this? “Yes.”
“And a friend?”
“Yes—”
“Romantic—”
“No!” She leaned forward. “Why would you even ask that?”
“How strong would you consider your family’s support network?”
“My what?”
“Your family’s support. Let’s talk about Paul Bane.”
Angela’s mouth opened. “Paul isn’t my family or a part of my life. Even when he was, he wasn’t supportive.” Or even interested in her in any way other than the connection to her mother. But that wasn’t the Feds’ business.
John made a quick note. “How about your parents?”
Her dad was semi-easy to reach, but she hadn’t leaned on him. Most often, the easiest way to reach her mother was the scheduling office. But again, why did the FBI care? “What does this have to do with Pham?”
“Have you ever thought about killing Pham?”
Angela jerked back. “That is none of your business.”
“You want him to remain behind bars?”
“Yes.”
“If you were asked to do something you didn’t want to do, if it came to Pham, would you comply?”
“That depends.”
“Have you ever been high up and thought about falling off?”
Her lips parted.
“Jumping off?” he prompted.
“No.”
“How do you deal with stress, Angela?”
“Well, apparently, I glare at it from across a conference room table.”
John chuckled and wrote a note.
“Let’s circle back to Sawyer Cabot.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“I didn’t get a clear answer. Is he, or has he been, a romantic partner?”
“Are you crazy? No.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“What does any of this have to do with Mylene Hathaway—” Her stomach bottomed out. “Are you doing a psych evaluation on me?”
Once more, John clicked his pen.
Son of a bitch. This whole meeting was a sham. “Are you kidding me?” She pushed out of her chair. Did Parker know? Boss Man? Sawyer? Humiliation drove daggers up her spine. Did they have concerns about her interest in Sawyer?
Was she interested in Sawyer?
Was Sawyer concerned? Titan? Or had her mother come up with this scheme to understand why Angela hadn’t fallen in line with the campaign plans? That was the only answer that made sense. Heat rippled from her neck into her cheeks. This interrogation had been bought and paid for by her mother.
John tossed his pen onto the table. “What about this makes you uncomfortable?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Everyone who goes into the field needs a risk assessment.”
She knew but had to ask, “Who sent you?”
“We already covered that your mother asked me to visit you.”
Her nostrils flared.
“Angela, what makes you uncomfortable with this discussion?” he asked again. “Given your work at Titan for the last few years, my line of questioning is normal operating procedure.”
“This is not how they’re done.” Her molars gnashed. “Not to mention, they’re never done surreptitiously.”
“I apologize if it came off that way,” he said casually, studying her.
This back-and-forth, she realized, was part of his psych evaluation also. “You want to know what makes me uncomfortable?” she scoffed. “Everything.”
“That’s a throwaway answer. Give yourself a second and see if you have a different answer.”
God, this man infuriated her. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a toddler.”
“I’m aggravating you,” he suggested.
“Yeah, not to be rude, but—”
“Dig into that, Angela. Why not be rude? You’re safe. You have loved ones. A job that you enjoy and protects you—”
She squared her shoulders. The lack of control in this pointless conversation was enough to unravel her, but wasn’t that what John Patterson was looking for? What her mother wanted? Absolutely. “We’re done.”