Theresa’s eyes snap to Isabelle’s. “Is that correct, Isabelle?”
Isabelle’s nod this time around is more affirmative than her previous two. “Yes, that’s correct.”
With her growl hidden by her frantic breaths, Theresa closes the door with force before moving toward a stack of chairs to gather me one. Once she rams it into my thigh, she joins her partner on the other side of the desk. When she ribs him with her elbow, her eagerness to conduct her interview is exposed, much less what she says next. “Are you in a relationship with Isaac Holt?”
Smugness swells my chest when Isabelle responds, “I plead the fifth.”
As Theresa’s brow shoots up high on her face, she wiggles her index finger in her ear. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I plead the fifth amendment,” Isabelle repeats, her tone higher and more confident than what it was seconds ago.
Never one to back down when sitting across from a woman as equally smart as her, Theresa switches tactics. “Are you in a sexual relationship with Isaac Holt?”
It’s the fight of my life to hide my cringe when Isabelle says, “I plead the fifth.” Her declaration this time around wasn’t as confident, and Theresa is more than willing to use it to her advantage.
“Have you had physical contact with Isaac Holt since your placement commenced in this division of the FBI?”
“I plead the fifth.”
There she is. Back stronger than ever.
When Theresa spots the smirk I’m unable to conceal, her eyes rocket to mine. “She’s clever. A rookie agent knowing to plead the fifth. Who would have thought?”
My smirk grows, loving that she believes this plan was solely my idea. That means she has no clue not even agents from her department like her.
After returning her slit gaze to Isabelle, Theresa asks, “Are you planning to answer any of my questions, Ms. Brahn, or will you continue pleading the fifth amendment?”
Her partner chuckles when Isabelle parrots, “I plead the fifth.” I realize I underestimated her as much as Theresa when she adds, “I choose not to answer your questions on the consideration that I may be unwillingly incriminating myself.”
I’m tempted to wiggle my finger in my ear like Theresa did earlier when the feet of Theresa’s chair scrape across the worn floorboards. After removing the sweat from her hands by dragging them down her stiff-as-a-board blouse, she gathers a manila folder from a briefcase cracked open on the edge of the boardroom-size desk. “You read a law book during your training… impressive.” She uses Isabelle’s seated position as an intimidation tactic by towering over her. “So, you’re aware prostitution is illegal?”
“I’m well aware of that.”
Even lost as to where Theresa is going with her investigation, I squeeze Isabelle’s thigh, wordlessly advising her to stay on track. Theresa wants her to slip up. She won’t do that if she continues pleading the fifth.
An indication on Theresa’s game plan slams into me when she mutters, “Just because he didn’t leave money on your bedside table when he was finished, doesn’t make it any less of a crime.”
She sets down a piece of paper in front of Isabelle. It appears to be a signed lease. Even from my side of the room, I can see the name scribbled across the owner section of the document. It’s Isaac Holt, our target.
Fuck!
Isabelle clues on to Theresa’s ruse as quickly as me. “I pay rent for my apartment in full every month.” She ignores me squeezing her thigh to add, “The owner’s details were not disclosed when my application was processed.”
The relieved gasp I sucked in at her admission is quickly breathed out when Theresa replies, “I thought you might say that, so I dug a little deeper.” She hands Isabelle a second piece of paper. It has a list of addresses with monthly figures jotted at the side. “The same two-bedroom apartments in your building rent for over three thousand dollars a month. You pay twelve hundred. That’s not even half.” She slants her head to the side as her lips tug into a rueful smirk. “Do you get a friends-with-benefits rate?”
Isabelle balls her hands into fists as she grinds out, “I plead the fifth.”
Theresa continues to interrogate her with the fierceness of a shark. “Then, there’s this.” She slides a third piece of paper across the desk. “A charter for a private jet booked under Isaac Holt’s name.” I snatch the flight manifest out of Isabelle’s hand before she has the chance to read it. “How romantic, most men don’t take their mistresses on holidays with them,” Theresa drones on.
“Isabelle’s name isn’t even on the manifest. That’s explicit conjecture. Everything you’ve presented thus far is speculation.” Over her attempts to ignore Isabelle’s right to remain silent, I lock my eyes with Theresa’s before sneering, “Isaac Holt owns over half of Ravenshoe, so it would be virtually impossible for Isabelle to rent anything in this town that didn’t belong or have an association with him.” I stand from my seat so fast, I knock it over. “This interview is over. If you speak to Isabelle again without a lawyer present, I won’t hesitate to contact my father, who, in turn, will have a word with your superior officer.”
I remove Isabelle from her seat with a tug on her arm before guiding her out of the conference room. I almost crack under pressure halfway down the corridor, but mercifully, Grayson’s constant ribbing about Alex rigging HQ with motion-activated cameras stops me. There are only two places safe from his watchful eyes. The washrooms, which I can’t use since Agent Clarkston just burst through the doors like he does every morning when his laxative-laced coffee reaches his colon, and the supply room.
Supposedly, Alex always leaves one room free from surveillance. Grayson argues it’s so he has a place to convene with his teammates in private. I believe it’s in case a pretty blonde attorney pays him a visit in the middle of the night. Trust me when I say, he and Regan were fans of unusual hook-up locations when they were a couple.
Once we arrive in the supply room, I rake my fingers over my scalp while sucking in some big breaths. It’s clear from Isabelle’s fish-out-of-water response that she had no clue Isaac owns the apartment building she’s living in, but I need to be sure as this is about more than Isabelle’s job. It’s way deeper than that.
“You didn’t have a clue about any of that, did you?”
