by Violet Paige
I tried to piece things together, but they quickly spun out of control. I couldn’t grasp it. I couldn’t assemble the fragments fast enough. I could sense her pain and fear. I tried to reach for her. I couldn’t find her. They shuffled me to the right and left. The black suits flanked me.
“Just stop. Stop,” I pleaded.
One of the men grasped my elbow, pulling my arm to my back before taking the other one. I heard the clicking sound of metal. Did he have handcuffs?
“Elliot Charles, you are under arrest for conspiring to commit theft against U.S. property. We will present you with a full list of charges at the Bureau.”
“Charges? Theft?” I squealed. “Greer, what’s happening?” My head spun to my friend.
She cried. “I-I can’t help you. You helped him.”
“What?”
The men urged me to the door. “What is going on?” I tried to dig my heels into the floor, but they were strong.
One of the men read me the complete Miranda Rights, but I wasn’t paying attention to him. Everything echoed around me. Greer cried in the background, while they led me down three flights of stairs and stuffed me in the back of an expensive Town Car parked by the curb.
I was in a daze. My heart pounded so loudly, nothing else sounded clear.
The men mumbled to each other. What bureau were they talking about? From low in the backseat, I didn’t know where we were going. The white buildings raced past until we pulled inside a parking garage.
I was jerked from the backseat and led through a set of double doors.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead as we walked through a hallway lined with tan doors. There was nothing discerning about the inside. I still had no idea where I was. There were no signs. No markings. Not even a lit exit box.
Finally, we stopped and a door opened.
“Wait here.”
I stumbled inside. There was a table and two chairs. Along one wall, a mirror that was at least six feet long. I knew someone was on the other side. I looked up and noticed the small cameras in all four corners of the gray walls. Red lights blinked under the lenses. They were on.
I twisted my hands, only to be pinched by the cuffs.
I didn’t know how much time passed before the door opened. I spun on my heels.
A tall man walked toward me. He extended the key for the handcuffs.
“Would you like me to take care of those?”
I nodded.
He flicked the lever and freed my hands. I massaged the skin where the metal had scraped.
“Please, Miss Charles. Take a seat.”
He pointed to the chair that faced the mirror. He took the other one.
I was reluctant to sit. Reluctant to talk.
“I’m Agent Kenneth.” He placed two folders on the table. “I thought we could have a conversation. Would you be ok with that?”
I stared at the white diamonds woven into his red tie.
“Miss Charles?”
I nodded. “I suppose. You realize I am attorney.”
He smiled. His lips were almost paper thin. It was an unsettling feeling sitting across from him. “Yes. We know exactly what you do.”
I wrung my hands together in my lap. “Should I ask for counsel before we begin?”
He flipped open the first folder. “You have that right, as you know, but I hope that we can talk a little first. If you cooperate, we are willing to work a deal on your charges. I can do that for you.”
“I was told I would receive a list of charges,” I stated. “What are they exactly?” I hadn’t wrapped my head around any part of this experience. I needed to retreat to the part of me that worked seamlessly no matter the circumstances. The place where I could become emotionless. Logical. The law.
“Conspiracy to commit theft of government information.”
My eyes locked on Agent Kenneth while he spoke. He had a northern accent. I was spending too much time trying to place it, instead of listening to my alleged crimes. Crimes. I hadn’t committed crimes. I shouldn’t be here. I realized there was still the possibility they had arrested the wrong suspect. I debated whether I should threaten the agent with a false accusation suit.
“These are federal charges with penalties that include fines up to a million dollars and over twenty years in prison.” He seemed certain he had the person he wanted in custody.
The roll of nausea lurched in my stomach.
“Oh God.” I jumped from the table and ran to the corner of the room. There was a small waste basket.
“Miss Charles?” The agent waited at the table.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I stood, trying to catch my balance. My hands shook.
“This can’t be happening,” I whispered.
The door opened and a hand reached in to remove the trash can. It was immediately replaced with a new one. I felt the embarrassment wash through me.
I sat across from him, encased in humiliation and fear.
When I looked down at the table there was a picture in front of me. A black and white photo of a man.
My fingers touched the corners and I held it toward my face.
It was a man with a distinctive angular jaw. He had dark hair. Dark eyes. And long eyelashes that took my breath away. It was Vaughn.
I looked up at Agent Kenneth. “Why did you hand this to me?”
“Do you know him?”
I stared at Vaughn’s face. I wanted to trace over his full lips. I didn’t know if this meant he was in danger. If something horrible had happened to him. A new sickness whirled through me. What if that was what this was about? Vaughn needed me. He needed my help.
“Y-yes, I do. Is he all right?” I asked quietly.
The agent laughed. “I’d say he’s about five million dollars all right.”
“Excuse me?”
He shook his head. “I apologize. I realize this isn’t a humorous situation.”
“No it’s not.” I pinched my lips together.
He closed one folder and opened another. “Can you please identify the man in the picture?”
I sniffed. “Yes. His name is Vaughn Hunter.”
He scribbled the name down. “So he’s going by that now.”
I placed the picture on the table. “What is going on? What has happened to him?”
“How long have you known him?”
“A few months,” I answered.
The knot in my stomach tightened.
“Can you be more specific?”
I thought back to my first day at American. To the night Greer and I went out for drinks to celebrate. “Yes, it was my first day in the residency law program at the university.” My voice started to come back to me. “The very end of August.”
“And how did you meet Mr. Hunter?”
“I bumped into him with my chair,” I explained. “What does this have to do with why I’m here. I don’t understand any of this.”
The agent laughed. “He’s done that one before.”
“Done what before?”
“I’m sorry. Let’s continue. How many times has Mr. Hunter been in your apartment?”
I stared blankly. “I haven’t taken count.”
My mind raced. Did I need to protect Vaughn? Was he in trouble? Was I saying too much or did he need me to tell them every detail to keep him safe? I didn’t know. I didn’t know whether to talk or clam up.
“But you are sleeping together?”
My eyes widened. “I don’t think you can ask me that.”
“I can. It’s part of the investigation.”
“What investigation? You said we would talk through this. So far you’ve only asked me questions. I think I should know why I’m here. Why I’m being recorded. Why there is someone on the other side of the glass watching. Why I’m in a building I can’t identify.” I folded my arms. “I think I want to evoke my right to counsel.”
He shook his head. “Wait. Wait. Let’s talk. You’re right.”
It was the one bit of leverage I had ov
er the agent. He wouldn’t want to bring anyone else into the room. As soon as he did, I wouldn’t be any use to him. Another attorney would demand official charges. Require evidence. Insist on a subpoena.
I felt a slice of victory. But it was the briefest of moments. Before my entire world crashed and shattered around me. Before Agent Kenneth pulled my heart from my chest and butchered it on the interrogation table. Yes, it was a tiny, momentary victory.
“This man, Miss Charles. The one who has claimed to be Vaughn Hunter, is in fact a contract operative by the name of Jeremy West. We believe you have colluded with him to steal highly classified documents regarding the sale of weapons to the U.S. government.”
“No. No.” I shook my head, creating a dizzying sensation that spread through my limbs. I couldn’t feel my body.
“You and Mr. West used your proximity to Greer Britt to obtain documents that are worth billions.”
My palms flattened on the table. “No. That’s not possible.”
“We have already questioned Miss Britt extensively. We are aware you and West had access to work files. She contends that you wouldn’t steal.” He sat back in his chair. “That’s not up to her, but to me to decide. I need to know how far your involvement goes.”
“Greer? Vaughn?” I looked at him as the room spun in circles.
There was no way to hold on to the attorney in me. The woman with the calm rational legal expertise. I couldn’t keep her locked in and absorb the words at the same time. I couldn’t process what he said as part of the law and not as a woman who had learned the unthinkable.
“When? When did this happen?” I mustered a few words.
“The Senate Defense Committee alerted us to the breach immediately. The way this works is you give me information and then I share information.” He tilted his head. “There is no question that West was behind the information attack. The question is what role you played.”
“I think I’m going to be sick again,” I whispered before what was left in my stomach spewed across the table.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When I dressed for the flight home I had chosen stretchy yoga pants and a long-sleeve running shirt. It was supposed to be comfortable on the cramped airplane. A female agent stood behind me in the ladies’ room while I used a scratchy paper towel from the dispenser to try to clean the cheerful fabric. I had bought it so I could run at night and be seen by cars. The vibrant tangerine was like an arrow pointing to me when I walked through the halls.
She watched me in the mirror. Her arms folded. I could see the gun on her hip. I washed my hands and wiped the smudges from my face. She led me along the hall, but guided me to a different door.
The interior of the room looked the same as the last one, only it wasn’t filled with the stench of sickness.
I sipped on a bottle of water while Agent Kenneth waited for me.
The agent was now wearing a T-shirt. I had soiled his suit and the red tie. I had never vomited on anyone. A part of me believed he was responsible. It was his fault he was down to an undershirt. I didn’t owe him an apology after he mangled my happiness just as severely as if his hands were clasped around my throat, squeezing the breath from my body.
My fingers trembled as I fastened the lid to the bottle.
“Are you ready to continue?” He wasn’t harsh, but I didn’t detect sympathy.
My stomach hurt. My clothes smelled despite my effort to wash them in the bathroom sink. I was reeling from being hauled into this stale interrogation room with no windows to the outside world. No. I didn’t want to continue. But the only way out was to comply. I knew that much.
“I-I guess.”
“Look, Mr. West has been on our radar for a number of years. We haven’t been able to bring him in. Any information you can provide will help us do that.”
“I don’t know anything.” I swallowed. The hollowness filled me. I didn’t. I didn’t know who Vaughn was or Jeremy. He wasn’t a Jeremy.
“What seems like insignificant details to you can add up to complete the puzzle we have. You might have the missing piece, Miss Charles. You just don’t realize it. Together, we can figure out what that is. If you agree to help us, I believe I can have all charges against you dropped.”
“I don’t care about the charges.” I gritted my teeth. My eyes lifted to his. The tears slipped from my eyes in heavy droplets. “You just told me the man I’ve spent the last few months with is a criminal. That everything he told me was a lie. That he used me to steal from my best friend.” I clenched my jaw. “I will fight the charges against me. We both know I didn’t help him.”
“Good. It sounds like you’re willing to cooperate.”
“I didn’t say that,” I snapped. “I need more than five minutes to process this.” I glared at him.
“How about I wait outside. I could use a cup of coffee. You?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Another bottled water?” he offered.
“No.” Did he think hospitality mattered in here?
“I’ll give you some time to think about the offer. But, it’s not open-ended. Realize you need to make a decision.”
He walked out of the room. I stared at the mirrored glass. My mascara was smudged beyond recognition. I wondered who was on the other side. Who was witnessing my heartbreak. Who was watching me fall apart. Who saw the moment my life was shattered.
What were they thinking now? That I was a pathetic mess? That I had let a man ruin me? That I had been conned? I should have been smarter. I should have been suspicious. I should have been anything but weak.
I spilled out of the chair and onto the floor, pulling my legs under me.
It wasn’t a con. It couldn’t be.
Everything was real. He was the reason I breathed. He was the man who stirred my blood. The man who brought me back to life. Who kissed me. Held me. Loved me. Worshipped my body. Tested my sexual limits and explored the deepest part of my sensuality. I had given him everything. Opened everything to him.
It was not a con.
I squeezed my eyes together. My head hurt. I pulled my palms to my lips as one sob escaped after another.
It was not a con.
He said he loved me. That last day before he went out of town. He said it.
It was not a con.
I heard the whimpers as I cried on the floor. They didn’t sound like me. They sounded like a small child, missing its mother. Like a lost toddler frantic that it had been left behind.
No one had looked at me the way he did. As if we were connected from just one glance. One smile. Like all the kisses were the first and the last wrapped up in each other. Our bodies fit in a seamless rhythm.
He listened. We talked all night. I laid in his arms and talked about law. I talked about home. He challenged me to stick with the clinic on the worst days. He wanted me to apply for the faculty position.
It was not a con.
The notes. The texts. The places he took me. He shared his favorite memorial. He took me to the winery. We spent an incredible night together. And when I didn’t think I could find Lana, he helped me. That was the man I knew.
Who in the hell was Jeremy West?
I rubbed the tears against my wet cheeks. I didn’t know how much longer until Agent Kenneth came back.
The door opened and he walked in.
I knew I looked like a wreck, but I was past caring at this point. The agent had been the entire demolition crew.
“Have you had some time to think about my offer?”
I cleared my throat. “I have.” I struggled to my feet and took a seat across from him.
“And?” He looked genuinely interested.
“I want proof,” I demanded.
“What else do you need to know? West is dangerous. I’ve explained our case against him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. The man I know is not Jeremy West. If you can convince me he is a criminal, then I’ll comply. I won’t impede a federal investigation. B
ut I’m not just going to take your word for it. I want proof, agent. I deserve that much.”
“All right. I’ve got plenty.”
He slapped the files on the table again. I jumped.
“We can start with Sarah Jamison.” He showed me her picture. “Twenty-five years old. Her father was a senator on the oil and gas committee. Mr. West had a relationship with her that lasted three weeks before he helped clean out her father’s assets in Qatar.”
He pulled out another picture. “This is Hannah Pauley. Also twenty-five. Her mother is the ambassador to Saudi Arabia. One month after she and West dated, the ambassador discovered a data breach in the classified files of oil reserves that were going into auction in her territory.”
I held my breath when he slapped another picture in front of me. “Here is Kathryn Jergen. Twenty-seven. Miss Jergen was the aide to the pharmaceutical committee. She and Mr. West were involved only two weeks when there was a huge buy out from two companies that were under potential investigation by the government. All charges in question by the feds were dissolved with the merger. Not a coincidence,” he added. “I can keep going.”
“I don’t fit any of those categories. I’m not privy to classified information or lucrative international financial deals. I’m not like these women.”
He held up a picture of Greer. My chest tightened. “Meet Greer Britt. Twenty-eight. Aide to the Senate Arms Committee. In charge of land and air weapons contracts vetting and research.”
I stared in disbelief.
“But—”
“She was the intended target, Miss Charles. But Miss Britt’s relationship with her boyfriend Preston proved problematic for West. So you were the next best option to retrieve the contract data. Second choice I guess, but it worked.”
I was done being sick. I couldn’t throw up again if I wanted. All I had in my stomach was water.
“Second choice?” I seethed.
I looked at all of the pictures. Beautiful women. Successful women. Some powerful on their own. Some within an arm’s reach of power and wealth.
I glanced at my reflection. And then there was me. The latest woman in the file.
What would the agents say about me? How would I be classified?