Under different circumstances, I think G and Jay would’ve been fast friends. Sharing a case of beer and swapping horror stories about their time in the trenches and comparing ink. Both men had used their bodies as canvases. The biggest difference was Jay’s color-covered pale canvas versus Gibson’s black ink on his brown canvas.
“Start talking,” Jay ordered.
I watched for John’s reaction to Jay taking the lead. If he had one, he didn’t show it.
Gibson laughed.
Christ, I’d created a shit show, and it was rolling downhill fast. I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a long exhale.
“Turn the cameras off,” I ordered.
“What cameras?” Jay asked.
“Don’t insult my intelligence. Turn them off.”
“They’re closed circuit; only authorized personnel at SSI have access,” John said.
“Not good enough. Turn them off,” Gibson ordered.
In a reversal of roles, I chose not to stick to the rule G was desperately trying to enforce.
“Fine, but no one but you two,” I pointed at John and Jay, “will review this recording.”
Crickets. Jay leaned back. John crossed his arms.
“It’s that or we leave and come back with a warrant and take Miss Novak into custody,” Gibson tried playing bad cop.
I pinched the bridge of my nose again, no doubt leaving the skin red.
“John, I need your cooperation before we continue.”
He looked between Gibson and me before saying, “You have it. Only Jay or I will review this meeting.”
His unspoken ‘for now’ lingered in the air.
Trusting my uncle, his word was all I needed.
For now.
“I’m sorry we scared Miss Novak, but we’re investigating a cold case and she may be connected to it.”
All true.
“Investigating?” John asked. “Who do you work for?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
“The hell you aren’t.” Jay’s voice carried that calm authority that made men piss their pants as he stepped away from the table and into Gibson’s personal space. The temperature in the room dropped several degrees as they stared each other down.
I didn’t know Jay well, but I knew his kind.He’s just like G. This pissing match wouldn’t end unless I put a stop to it.
“Jay, you can’t intimidate him. Please step back.” I made sure he understood that my please didn’t mean it was a request.
“Austin, who do you work for?” John repeated while eyeing me up and down; his scan stopped at my beltline, looking for a gun.
It wasn’t there; I carried it in a shoulder holster.
I squeezed the back of my neck to give my nose a break and sighed. “Gibson?”
