“Think or can?”
He’s most likely hiding out in a storage closet on the Bobrov compound, but it doesn’t stop his frustrated growl vibrating down the line. He’d rather risk his cover being blown than lose the chance to announce how much I annoy him. “Either way, the interview you’re hoping to be a part of is about to commence, so if you are planning to join it, move your ass, dickface.”
The nerves in my gut are heard in my reply, “Get eyes and ears out of the room for me, Grayson. I don’t just need them off Izzy, I need them off me as well.”
“I’ll do my best.”
When he hits the end button, I switch off my phone, then make my way down the corridor buzzing with hyped activity. As Phillipa predicted, Internal Affairs was brought in within hours of Isaac’s arrest Friday afternoon. Although they didn’t immediately request to interview Isabelle, we all knew today’s event was going to occur at some stage. Isabelle has a lot to answer for, but at the moment, IA agents are the only ones who can ask the hard-hitting questions without placing our entire division under the spotlight.
Unwanted scrutiny is the sole reason I stayed away from Isabelle the entire weekend. I can imagine how bad she’s feeling after she was forced to arrest Isaac, but I’m surrounded by so much controversy right now, I have to thoroughly examine every step I take before taking it. It sucks, but it’s also necessary.
The mood in the main hub of HQ is noticeably subdued. IA didn’t just stir the pot by sending an interstate crew to investigate claims Isabelle aided and abetted a criminal by supplying Isaac with official government documents. They sent the ex-supervisor of this division—Theresa Veneto.
Phillipa broke protocol when she told me the charges IA was planning to pin on Isabelle, but considering she’s currently on a flight back from Tiburon with a file I’m dying to get my hands on, her secret is safe with me. I won’t let her be prosecuted for helping me any more than I won’t let Isabelle be impeached because a scorned woman wants revenge. If Theresa has issues with how Alex took her down, she should be taking it out on him, not one of his rookie agents.
My teeth grit at my double standards. I’ve been striving for months to topple the Gottle entity by gunning for the bottom prong in his organization, so how is what Theresa is doing any different?
Realizing now isn’t the time for a fucked-up riddle, I put on my game face. I make it to the conference room in just enough time. Theresa is seated across from Isabelle, but the recorder they brought with them hasn’t been switched on.
Theresa’s evil eyes snap up to mine when I knock on the glass door. She appears pissed by the interruption. Isabelle looks relieved. “As the union representative for this division, I need five minutes to talk to Ms. Brahn before her interview commences.” I keep my tone neutral and strong, revealing I’m not seeking permission to speak with Isabelle. I’m telling them this is what’s happening.
Theresa looks like she wants to chew me up and spit me out when she grinds out through clenched teeth, “Five minutes.”
After gesturing for her male partner to leave the room before her, Theresa’s eyes drift to mine. They’re full of unvoiced warnings and skin-heating scorn. For a woman who has everything to lose, she doesn’t act like it. Her gall would be impressive under different circumstances.
When the glass door of the conference room closes with Theresa and the unnamed agent on the other side, Isabelle’s wide-with-panic eyes lock with mine. “Wha—”
“Be quiet, Izzy.”
She’s taken aback by the abruptness of my tone but brushes it off as a side-effect of a long week. “I—”
“Shut up, Isabelle.” I mutter a curse word under my breath. I hadn’t meant to take my frustration out on her. I’m annoyed by the blinking red light still flashing in the security camera mounted in the corner of the room, not her. I thought Grayson would have switched off the feed by now.
Like magic, two seconds later, the frustrating blip of red stops.
“What the hell?” Isabelle murmurs to herself as stunned as I am relieved.
Her shock grows when I advise her to follow the plan of attack Phillipa and I plotted late last night while FaceTiming and eating dinner. “I strongly advise you to plead the fifth—”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
Usually, I’d welcome her determination, but now isn’t the time for her to grow a backbone. “Please don’t be stupid. They’re here to charge you with conspiracy in aiding and abetting a criminal by supplying him with official government documents. If you don’t plead the fifth, you’re looking at over twenty years in jail.”
“Why?” She looks incapable of sucking in an entire breath. “I’ve never given Is—”
“Shut up! I can’t guarantee they don’t have ears in here.” I press my hands onto the white melamine tabletop before tilting closer to Isabelle. “Plead the fifth, then I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this.”
The plan Phillipa and I devised is risky, but the massive web I mentioned months ago grew tenfold over the weekend. It affects more people than we realized, including Isabelle. Her pleading the fifth won’t stop Theresa’s witch-hunt from occurring, but it will bide us some time to sort through the huge conspiracy that’s been clouding my judgment the past umpteenth years.
Isabelle doesn’t appear pleased with my suggestion. However, she lowers her chin, agreeing to do as I suggested. Her agreement eases the knot twisted in my stomach, grateful she trusts me enough to know I wouldn’t push her to do this unless it was vital.
“I’ll stay with you during your interview, but no matter what they say or do, continuously plead the fifth.”
The color drains from her face as she once again nods.
Not long after that, Agent Theresa and her partner re-enter the room. “Your five minutes are up.” Theresa arrogantly motions her head to the door, giving me my marching orders.
The haughty gleam in her eyes douses when I disclose, “Isabelle has requested a union representative be present during her interview.”
