The burning intensity in the agent’s eyes flashes like tempered steel—on a regular day she’s not the kind of person I’d be screwing with, but today I don’t have any other choice. “I don’t know anything about my sister, Agent, but if you do, I would be glad to hear about it. She’s alive? Lexi’s disappearance happened so long ago; my parents and I, we’ve believed for a while now that she’s dead.” It’s not an Academy Award-winning performance by any stretch of the imagination, but my voice doesn’t shake. Agent Lowell clenches her jaw, eyes narrowing a little at the corners.
“Okay. I’ll tell you what I know. Your sister was shot in the back eight days ago. She was admitted into a private hospital in San Jacinto, where she was treated and discharged two days later. A nurse at the hospital claims a woman matching your description was fighting with a member of a biker gang in the hallways, and she nearly had the woman removed from the premises. We’re waiting on their surveillance footage to arrive at our office, but I’m ninety-nine percent positive that when that surveillance footage does arrive, it’s going to clearly show you and your friends waiting for news on your sister’s well being. Now why don’t you cut the crap and tell me what I want to know?”
My cheeks are burning; it surely must be halfway to an admission of guilt when the person you’re interviewing starts blushing furiously. Except my temperature isn’t rising because I’m feeling trapped or caught out. It’s rising because she thinks I’m stupid. There were no cameras at San Jacinto. Of course there were no cameras. It’s a private hospital, where clients appreciate their privacy and don’t want any evidence of them being wheeled into their third face-lift. Both Zeth and Michael made sure that they weren’t being recorded, and I’m betting Rebel did, too. If they had discovered that they were being filmed, that video footage would have been ‘accidentally’ wiped before the day was out. So, this bitch is lying to me and hoping I’m stupid enough to fall for it, which makes me exceptionally mad.
“I’m afraid you’re just going to have to wait on your evidence, Agent Lowell,” I say as sweetly as I can. “This nurse seems to have described someone that sounds like me, but surely there are lots of women out there who are my height and build with brown hair, right?”
I’ve called her bluff, and by the looks of her Agent Lowell couldn’t be less impressed. I don’t think very many people decline giving her what she wants, when she wants it. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing,” she says. “Your involvement with Zeth Mayfair has been of particular interest to us. Would you care to tell us where he is right now?”
So she knows about Zeth. But I’m getting the feeling she’s trying to play me again right now. If she did know anything, she wouldn’t need me to tell her where he was; she would know that. She would know his exact location at all times. More importantly, they suspect Zeth had something to do with Archie Monterello’s murder, so they would have arrested his ass.
“I’m afraid I don’t know anyone by that name,” I say politely. Lowell looks away, clenching her hands together in her lap. The polished leather toe of her right shoe starts tapping quickly against the carpet.
“What do you think you’re gaining from keeping this information from me, Dr. Romera? Do you think you’re protecting your sister? That you’re protecting this Mayfair character? Let me ask you this: have you considered that the DEA are trying to protect you and the rest of this country? Zeth isn’t what he may seem to be. He may have tricked you into believing he’s harmless; you may be drawn to that rough exterior, but let me assure you, he is a killer, Sloane. A killer. Are you aware that he did time in Chino for murder?”
I don’t let my thoughts manifest themselves on my face, but I feel like launching across the Chief’s desk and wrapping my hands around this woman’s throat. It’s laughable that she believes Zeth has been tricking me into being with him. It’s also laughable that she thinks Zeth’s fooled me into believing he’s harmless. If she’d have spent any time with him whatsoever, if she’d even ever met the man face to face, then she’d know it would be impossible for him to convince anyone of that. Zeth is just about as far from harmless as a man can get. “Like I said…I don’t know anyone by that name. I’m sorry I can’t be of any help to you where he’s concerned. And as for my sister, you say you think she was shot in the back? How do you know that? Is she badly hurt?”
Lowell cocks her head to one side, her lips pursed together into a tight line. “I don’t think she was shot in the back; I know she was. I shot her. As for her being badly hurt?” She shrugs. “I doubt very much that she’s dead. San Jacinto said—”
I shot her.
“—their patient had received professional medical assistance out in the field”—she raises her eyebrows at me, clearly indicating that she knows it was me who provided that care—“so I would assume—”
I shot her.
“—she’s still receiving appropriate care.”
I shot her.