“Who did you see?”
I shook my head, widening my eyes, thinking of things that scared me to the bottom of my soul—sharks, murky water, snakes, Xavier’s hands. “Men,” I said quietly.
“How many?” Riviera asked calmly.
“I don’t know. M-many.”
“What did they look like?” my father suddenly cut in, all heads twisting his way.
I gulped and shrugged but answered quickly. “They were all wearing black and balaclavas. I didn’t see their faces.”
“Did you see the color of their eyes?”
“N-no. No one stepped close enough…to see.”
“Were they white? Black? Latino? Asian?” my father shot out questions quickly.
This was another tactic—flood the suspect with information, provide options so they get confused, stumble, and make a mistake. Yet…I wasn’t a suspect, so why were they interrogating me like that?
But Iwasmy father’s daughter, and I could be just as calculating as him.
“I-I don’t know. I didn't see anyone’s face,” I repeated the same sentence.
“Okay. What about their voices, accents?”
I shook my head again to say no. “No accents.”
The room fell silent. I was giving themnothing.I tried to imagine the scenario—multiple men in black clothing in front of me.
“What did the room look like? Do you remember a smell? A sound?” Agent Riviera spoke softly again.
“There were bright lights shining toward me, so I couldn’t really see the room, but there was a humming somewhere?” I offered, leading them as far astray as possible. “Like a fridge or air conditioner, maybe. And smell…” I trailed off, mentally calculating what to lie next. “It smelled fresh. Like the outside.”
“Tell us how they gave you instructions about the video.” My father’s loud and authoritative voice filled the room once more, taking over this question-and-answer period.
“They held up a note. It explained what to say.”
“Did you see the man who held up the note? His fingers? Skin color?”
“No. He was wearing gloves.”
“How do you know it was a man?”
“They sounded like men? They were big and broad. Men’s shoes.”
Phew, it was non-stop. My father paced behind Collins and Riviera, like a dark shadow over all of us. Just when Collins opened his mouth, my father cut in again.
“What happened after?”
I gulped, wanting this to be over. “They put the bag over my head again and shoved me in a car. Then they dragged me out and carried me somewhere. Someone cut the restraints and then pushed me inside what turned out to be a small room.”
“Describe the room.”
I sighed, the pressure building in my head. Why was he doing this? The agents would have asked the exact same questions, but no—hehad to do it himself.
“Small. One bed, a big window, a bathroom.”
“What did the window face?”
