Chapter 18 #2
“You’re not ‘wanted.’ Not that I’m saying you’re not wanted. I’m sure there are plenty of people who want you. But there’s no arrest warrant yet, for either of us.”
“Quite happy not to be wanted, in this case.”
“It doesn’t really mean anything—they keep it deliberately vague. Mostly an excuse to scare you. The main problem now is that your name and photo are being circulated too. So it’s going to be harder for us to buy lunch.”
“Lunch is your concern?”
“Eating and drinking are up there with the fundamental needs for human survival, and, like you say, surviving is winning, so yes, eating is my number one concern, given that we can take breathing for granted, for now. Besides, lunch is my favorite meal. You can go either way—waffles are acceptable, but so is steak. And beer.”
“Are you making jokes to stop me panicking about being the next worst thing to a wanted woman?”
“Hey, come here,” he said, crossing the room and cupping her face. “Don’t look so terrified. You’re handing yourself in today, remember?”
“Handing myself in? You make it sound like I’m going to be face-down in handcuffs with people shouting at me. I don’t like being shouted at.”
He let her go, grabbed a granola bar from their stash, and unwrapped it. “I’m reasonably certain they won’t do that to you, but it is possible they’ll play hardball. They may want to scare you into telling them everything you know.”
“Which is nothing. I can pretty much tell them three words: Tatiana, Yakov, and kompromat.”
“There must be more that you know—all those conversations you had with Nika… I doubt anyone knows yet what piece of information is going to be decisive in this—except for the person with the guilty conscience, who will want to make sure it doesn’t come out.”
“And if I’m the one who holds that piece of information, whatever it may be…?”
“There are still many unknowns.” He leaned back on the kitchen counter, beside her.
“Not gonna lie, Alice. There are no guarantees, there are risks in every direction, but if you strongly feel it’s in your best interests to turn yourself in…
You want one of these?” he said, mumbling through a mouthful of granola bar. “They’re not bad.”
“Not really hungry. What about your best interests?”
“Not your concern. This has to be your call.”
“You said before that you can’t guarantee I’d be safe, even with the authorities. You said, ‘Have you even read the book you’ve just written?’”
“I may have been giving you a hard sell, but sure, there’s a risk that someone with influence or authority or both would prefer you weren’t in a position to tell your story, the same way they’d prefer I wasn’t in a position to defend myself.
In your case, it might be more about discrediting you and threatening legal action than endangering your life, but yeah, no guarantees. ”
“Oh, great.”
“Like I say, a lot of unknowns. I’m not going in until I get as full a picture as I can get. And sure, I’d rather keep you with me for both our sakes—but mainly for mine.”
“What are they likely to ask me? You’ve been trained in interrogation.
What should I do, or not do? Is it like in the book—counter-accuse/admit nothing/deny everything, yes or no answers?
Will they use a lie detector? They say you should make yourself panic when they ask the control questions, so they have no baseline to compare the real questions to—do something like bite your tongue, so your vital signs spike. ”
“Hey, slow down, Al Capone,” he said, catching her hand and holding it.
“They won’t use a lie detector, and whether they do or not—don’t lie.
As for the other stuff, you got nothing to hide, so don’t try.
It’s not like they’re gonna torture you.
Best advice? Don’t let them put words in your mouth or doubts in your head.
Especially not about me. Don’t let them lead you around in circles so you start second-guessing and contradicting yourself.
On second thought, tell them you’re not going to talk to them until your lawyer arrives. ”
“Not sure my lawyer will be much use.”
“I can send someone.”
“I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation—any of these conversations. I guess I just keep waiting for this to go away, like the bad dream it is.”
He squeezed her hand. “Not all bad, I hope.”
“Oh no, I didn’t mean last night! Though it does make things seem even more surreal.”
He coaxed her around so she faced him, his hands on her hips, and lowered his forehead to touch hers. “Don’t worry so much, Alice. Would it seem less surreal if it happened again this morning?”
She was reasonably sure it was a joke to tease her out of her panic, but she very reluctantly backed away, raising her hands. “That would definitely not make it less surreal. I need a shower.”
For a second it looked like he might invite himself, but then he ever so slightly shook his head. “You’re right—we should straighten this place out and get going before a ranger comes knocking. Survive the day, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Still want me to drop you off at the police station?”
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Time to return to the real world and all its consequences. Because Carter was the kind of guy a woman like her could fall for way too easily, even though she would need all her fingers and toes to count the reasons she shouldn’t let this get any more out of hand.
“Alice, I really…” He trailed off, looking uncharacteristically uncertain of himself. Something about his expression sent goosebumps rolling down her arms.
“You really…?”
He gazed at her for another few seconds, with an expression she couldn’t get a read on, but she could swear that he was about to cross the space between them and kiss her fiercely and tell her he needed her, and not just for a dictaphone.
And she couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she’d have the willpower to resist.
Instead, he turned back to the kitchen counter. “I’ll clean up out here. If you’re gonna take that shower, you’d better do it now.”
“Yeah,” she whispered to his back. “I’d better.”
Because the only happy-ever-after here would involve her being back in front of her classroom by the end of the week.