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“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.”
