“I’ve said it a dozen times, dammit, I threw it away.”
“Georgiana.” Her attorney’s low but cautionary tone saved her from telling Mr. FBI to go straight to hell.
Clinton came around to the other side of the table across from where she sat. “Did you listen to your house phone messages when you came home tonight?”
Georgie took a deep breath. “No. Once I realized I’d been burglarized, I called 911 and waited outside until the police came.” Not quite true but she didn’t want to explain why she’d taken those pictures of the destruction. The reasons were personal. “Why?”
“Did you check your computer or phone messages at any time while you were gone?”
Georgie felt little hits of anger beat against her eyeballs. “I went away to get away from everything. Calling home to reconnect would defeat the purpose.”
“What about your family, how would they know how to find you in an emergency?”
Georgie looked away and down. Earlier, Clinton had said they’d been in contact with her family. He’d lied to trick her. She’d have to remember that. “I have another cell phone I use when I don’t want the world to intrude. Only my family members have the number.”
“We’d be very interested to see that phone.”
Georgiana handed it over.
Clinton took his time before he spoke again. “We have reason to believe, Ms. Flynn, that you took photos of the man who left an undetonated bomb at the Senate Office Building event.”
“Bomb?” Georgie’s attorney turned to her in bewilderment. “I haven’t heard anything about that. It wasn’t on the news.”
“That’s because we were able to prevent word from leaking out about it. What most terrorists want most is to incite public fear. We shut it down. There were only a handful of reporters present for the event. We gathered the photography from the others the next day. Only your photographs remain unaccounted for. And now you say your apartment was broken into and your computer and cameras were taken.”
Georgie bit hard on the inside of her lip. You say your apartment was broken into. He suspected her of something. That much was obvious. Now he was toying with her, trying to confuse and wear her down. And he would probably succeed. She was near tears. But that still didn’t make her guilty.
Clinton’s gaze never left hers. “You have two phone messages from a Mr. Jane. Do you know him?”
“No, but I can check my files.”
“He said he wants to buy photos specifically of the event in question. He said his nephew was one of the awards recipients and he would like to have a memento.”
“I don’t sell my photos to the general public.”
Clinton leaned across the table, bringing his face down to a level with hers. “We are looking for answers, Ms. Flynn. For instance, why our K-9 team identified the scents in your apartment as being compatible with those found on the failed bomb.”
Georgia gasped. “That’s not possible.”
“So far, you’re our only confirmed contact point with the bomber.”
“That doesn’t mean I know anything about him—because truly, I don’t.” She was on her feet, unable to stop her actions or her words. “That apartment search might mean nothing. I’ve heard bomb dogs can be put off the scent by nitrates in food. Maybe my burglar ate a huge pastrami sandwich before he broke in. Nitrates on everything.”
“Interesting that you know about how to confuse a K-9 bomb sniffer.”
All the hot emotion ebbed out of Georgie as she sank back into her chair. She was only making things worse. “I read. Informed public and all that.”
“He didn’t break in.”
“But the police said …”
“They said it appeared that it wasn’t a forced-entry burglary.”
“It had to be. No one could have gotten in otherwise.”
“Who else has a key? Old boyfriend? New boyfriend? A neighbor?”
Georgie kept shaking her head. “No one.”
For several seconds she stared off into space. “You’re telling me that you think I’m somehow in league with a would-be bomber?”
“I’m informing you that we have enough to hold you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism.”
Georgie stared at him, unable to think of an answer to so chillingly absurd an idea. She didn’t have an idea of what “hold” meant. In jail? In an undisclosed location? Oh, god. Was she about to disappear?
Clinton went on, his voice as calm and conversational as if he was talking about a play he’d seen. “On the other hand, if I were you, I’d want to clear my name. You can show good faith by helping us.”