And so the afternoon went on. She interviewed the other three men; each time the story she heard was the same, except for the details of each man’s participation in the robbery.
Each man swore passionately that they’d never killed. They had carried toy guns and no other weapons at any time. It was one thing to steal, another to kill. They had a certain code of honor, she realized as she spoke with them. All three men were deeply rooted in one form or another of religion, and all three had had a religious upbringing. In their minds, God forgave a man for taking from another who had too much, but he didn’t forgive the taking of a life.
Through every session, Craig Frasier stood a few feet behind her, tall and stoic, expression unwavering, arms folded across his chest. He heard everything that was said, and she knew that he was close enough to step in if there was the least hint of trouble.
There wasn’t. The men seemed almost baffled that anyone could think them capable of murder.
When the day was done at last and it was time to leave, they signed out and headed back across the bridge. As they drove, Frasier asked her, “What do you think?”
“I don’t think any of those men killed anyone. In my opinion, you do have a copycat group out there. There must be a way to prove that forensically. There must be computer programs that compare height and body characteristics. I pointed out what I saw, and if I saw it, it must be obvious via computer comparison.”
“Yep. And I have a man on it. So far the charges against them are only for the attempted robbery. There are huge arguments going on above my pay grade. These men, as you know, claim that all their robberies were in the state of New York. The powers that be are arguing over whether they should face federal or state charges, or both. We’re executing search warrants on their homes, and we’ll see what those yield. In my gut, I know that the killers are still out there,” he told her.
“If you’re so convinced,” Kieran said, “why do you need my opinion?”
“Verification,” he told her. He turned and looked at her. “No matter how things go down, you’ll be called in to testify, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
Kieran was uneasy, wondering why, even though he was driving, she felt as if he were watching her suspiciously, seeing how the reminder that she would have to appear in court would affect her.
She looked out the window. She could picture the scene. She would be sworn in, agreeing under oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth—even though the prosecutor might well ask, Why were you in that jewelry store?
I went to see someone I know who works there.
Is that the truth?
Yes.
Allow me to remind you that you’re under oath.
All right, all right! I was returning a diamond my brother and my best friend stole. But they didn’t really steal it. They were just borrowing it.
And this “borrowed” diamond was in your possession?
“Miss Finnegan?”
“What?” She turned to look at Agent Frasier, startled.
“We’re here,” he told her.
“Oh! Ah, thank you.”
They were parked in front of the offices of Fuller and Miro.
“No, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for your help.”
She knew she should get out of the car. That this would be the last she would see of Agent Craig Frasier, at least until the trial. And when that happened, the thieves were going to be the ones in the hot seat, not her.
She moved to get out of the car, but she was too late. He was already out of the driver’s seat and coming around. He opened her door, and she scrambled out as quickly as she could. For a moment she was standing on the New York street just staring up at him. He was a foot away, but that was too close. The man was built like steel and seemed to tower over her, and while she wanted to run, she also wanted to reach out and touch him and find out if he was still somehow flesh and blood, despite the way he looked at that moment. His eyes were on her, and she was drawn to return his stare, as if he were somehow compelling her to. The man was almost impossibly attractive. She certainly didn’t meet people like him every day. She found herself feeling sorry about saying goodbye, despite the way he seemed to be using X-ray vision to peer into her mind. Something stirred within her, and she wished she could meet him again in the pitch-dark, could simply touch him, feel him and...
Her fantasies moved in a very dangerous direction, as in hot, wild, wet sex, and she felt her face turning every shade of red.
She had to get away.
She reached out a hand to shake his. “Well, goodbye,” she said awkwardly.
She felt the length of his fingers curling around hers and the solid strength in his hand. And he smiled.
A smile that seemed to say that he was sure she was guilty as hell of something.
“Goodbye, Miss Finnegan,” he said. Then he headed back around the car to the driver’s side. She watched him, knowing she should turn and head into her building.
He paused right before he slid into the driver’s seat. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing one another again,” he told her with a wave.