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“Like you said, he probably saw me leave with you. Maybe he thought I knew something about Warrick’s trial.”
He nodded and continued studying the image. “It’s plausible.”
It wasn’t and we both knew it. However, there was more than one reason I couldn’t give him the answers he was looking for.
12
COPE
The entire drive from my apartment to the courthouse in Virginia, the same thing rolled over in my mind. Ali had lied to me yesterday. She was hiding something, and it pissed me the fuck off. Stella’s words echoed in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should call Decker and have him run a check on her.
She couldn’t know the real story about Irish. Of that, I was certain. So what was it? What could someone have been looking for in her apartment? It would’ve made more sense if they’d broken into mine.
After Rock left, Ali and I had a quiet afternoon, the tension between us thick. She’d slept the majority of the day, which was the best thing for her.
I spent the time pouring through everything Deck had sent over on the most recent names I’d given him. Without my asking, he’d also been able to get into some of the agency’s files I wouldn’t have been able to access from home, as well as some I wouldn’t have been able to access from anywhere. The man was fucking scary; now wasn’t the first time I was damn glad we were on the same side.
I checked on Ali one more time after my mom arrived at the apartment and before I left for Virginia this morning, and she was still asleep. I longed to walk over to the bed and kiss her goodbye, but stopped myself. A wall had gone up between us yesterday after she hadn’t been honest with me. I was sure she’d realized it as much as I had.
I’d just pulled into the parking garage when the cell rang with a call from my father.
“Good morning, senator.”
“Just checking in, Son.”
“I’ve just arrived at the district courthouse.” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “Dad, when I can tell you something, I will. Please don’t ask.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“I appreciate that, but I’ve got this under control.”
“Your mother mentioned something about a reporter staying in your apartment.”
Here it came. The line of questioning I’d expected from my mom was coming from him instead.
“I don’t have time to get into it now, Dad.”
“I don’t need to tell you to watch your back with the media, Sumner.”
“How’s the reporter?” asked Hammer when I walked into the courthouse and found him waiting.
“Fine.”
Hammer leaned closer. “Somethin’ up your ass this mornin’, Cope?”
Too many things, to be honest, but I wasn’t about to tell Hammer that. “You ready?”
He shook his head, laughed, and stalked off in the direction of the meeting room, motioning for me to follow. “Showtime.”
Warrick looked up when we walked in. “Everything okay, Cope?” he asked. “I heard there was an accident.”
“Everything’s fine.”
I heard Hammer sneer, but I didn’t have it in me. I knew I was supposed to act like Irish was pond scum, but was it really necessary? I was a CIA agent, trained to hide my feelings. It would be amateurish for me to act the same way Hammer was.
I caught a look that passed between Irish and his lead attorney. Damon Church was one of the top federal defense attorneys in the country—and had absolutely no idea the man he was currently representing didn’t truly need his help. Unless what I had planned failed. If it did, he’d likely be my attorney too.
The man seated directly across from me cleared his throat and rested his arms on the table. “Mr. Warrick has requested a private conversation.”
