APD
precinct.
“It’s just a car,” Carlotta muttered, feeling like a naughty
child.
“Right. It’s a good thing you’re wearing that belt you call a
skirt.”
“Peter’s a reasonable man. He knows it was an accident.
Besides, like he said—his insurance wil pay for the car.”
“True. Now he can get next year’s model,” Jack said drily.
“See? Al is wel .”
“Meanwhile, what are you going to do for
transportation?”
She sighed. “Peter said he could get me a rental, but for
now I think I’d feel less destructive riding the train.”
“Since we stil don’t know who planted that bomb under
your Monte Carlo, I have to agree. But last time I checked,
MARTA doesn’t run past Ashford’s subdivision.”
“I’l figure out something,” she murmured.
He stopped to check Carlotta in at the front desk. She said
hel o to her friend Brooklyn and fol owed Jack through a
secured door into the bul -pen area that housed
workstations, cubicles and offices. The area hummed with
voices, printers and the ringing of telephones.
Her grip on her purse was slippery and her pulse ratcheted
higher. “I’m nervous about the interview.”
Jack scoffed. “You already wrecked a Porsche this
morning, what else can you do? The way I see it, the day
has nowhere to go but up.”
“Very funny. You’l be in there with me, won’t you, Jack?”
His mouth flattened into a line. “I’l be watching. Just
remember that you’re here of your own volition. You can
stop the interview if you feel uncomfortable.”
“You’re late,” chided a female voice.
Carlotta turned to see Detective Maria Marquez
approaching. The woman managed to look fresh yet
threatening in a pale blue pantsuit and shoulder holster.
Her demeanor toward Jack was territorial, but Carlotta
wondered if Jack even noticed.
“There was a mishap,” Jack said, pouring a cup of coffee.
Maria eyed Carlotta knowingly. “Right. Wel , the state guys
are getting restless.”
“How did your session go?” Jack asked, taking a drink from
the steaming cup.
Maria shrugged. “They asked questions, I answered.” Her
glance cut to Carlotta, then back. “We can talk about it
later.”
Carlotta pursed her mouth. The woman was purposely
excluding her, while letting her know that she and Jack had
plenty of private time.
“Did they offer up the state lab to process our evidence?”
Jack asked.
“When we get some.”
Jack swallowed coffee and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“They’re waiting for Carlotta in interview room two,”
Maria offered, then walked away.
Jack topped off his coffee and looked at Carlotta. “Ready?”
“I guess so.”
He led her down a hallway to a closed door. “I’ll be right
on the other side of the glass. Just be truthful. Everyone’s
after the same thing here—to get you cleared.”
“And my father,” she added. But at the sight of the muscle
jumping in Jack’s jaw, she frowned. “And my father, right,
Jack?”
“Carlotta, this is about you. Let your father take care of
himself. From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty good at it.”
He rapped his knuckles on the door, then opened it. Two
suited men sat adjacent to each other at a rectangular
table that was piled high with files. She assumed that one
of them was Randolph’s, one was Wesley’s and one was
hers. Her pulse kicked up a notch. The men stood and
adjusted their waistbands as Carlotta and Jack walked in.
“Agents Wick and Green,” Jack said, nodding to the slim
black man and the stocky white guy, respectively, “this is
Carlotta Wren.”
The men said hel o and she responded in kind.
“Ms. Wren has agreed to voluntarily answer whatever
questions you have about The Charmed Kil er case. She’s
eager to help, aren’t you, Carlotta?”
She nodded, suddenly realizing that both men’s eyes were
locked on her legs. Jack cleared his throat, and the men
were suddenly al business.
“Have a seat, Ms.
precinct.
“It’s just a car,” Carlotta muttered, feeling like a naughty
child.
“Right. It’s a good thing you’re wearing that belt you call a
skirt.”
“Peter’s a reasonable man. He knows it was an accident.
Besides, like he said—his insurance wil pay for the car.”
“True. Now he can get next year’s model,” Jack said drily.
“See? Al is wel .”
“Meanwhile, what are you going to do for
transportation?”
She sighed. “Peter said he could get me a rental, but for
now I think I’d feel less destructive riding the train.”
“Since we stil don’t know who planted that bomb under
your Monte Carlo, I have to agree. But last time I checked,
MARTA doesn’t run past Ashford’s subdivision.”
“I’l figure out something,” she murmured.
He stopped to check Carlotta in at the front desk. She said
hel o to her friend Brooklyn and fol owed Jack through a
secured door into the bul -pen area that housed
workstations, cubicles and offices. The area hummed with
voices, printers and the ringing of telephones.
Her grip on her purse was slippery and her pulse ratcheted
higher. “I’m nervous about the interview.”
Jack scoffed. “You already wrecked a Porsche this
morning, what else can you do? The way I see it, the day
has nowhere to go but up.”
“Very funny. You’l be in there with me, won’t you, Jack?”
His mouth flattened into a line. “I’l be watching. Just
remember that you’re here of your own volition. You can
stop the interview if you feel uncomfortable.”
“You’re late,” chided a female voice.
Carlotta turned to see Detective Maria Marquez
approaching. The woman managed to look fresh yet
threatening in a pale blue pantsuit and shoulder holster.
Her demeanor toward Jack was territorial, but Carlotta
wondered if Jack even noticed.
“There was a mishap,” Jack said, pouring a cup of coffee.
Maria eyed Carlotta knowingly. “Right. Wel , the state guys
are getting restless.”
“How did your session go?” Jack asked, taking a drink from
the steaming cup.
Maria shrugged. “They asked questions, I answered.” Her
glance cut to Carlotta, then back. “We can talk about it
later.”
Carlotta pursed her mouth. The woman was purposely
excluding her, while letting her know that she and Jack had
plenty of private time.
“Did they offer up the state lab to process our evidence?”
Jack asked.
“When we get some.”
Jack swallowed coffee and nodded. “Fair enough.”
“They’re waiting for Carlotta in interview room two,”
Maria offered, then walked away.
Jack topped off his coffee and looked at Carlotta. “Ready?”
“I guess so.”
He led her down a hallway to a closed door. “I’ll be right
on the other side of the glass. Just be truthful. Everyone’s
after the same thing here—to get you cleared.”
“And my father,” she added. But at the sight of the muscle
jumping in Jack’s jaw, she frowned. “And my father, right,
Jack?”
“Carlotta, this is about you. Let your father take care of
himself. From what I’ve seen, he’s pretty good at it.”
He rapped his knuckles on the door, then opened it. Two
suited men sat adjacent to each other at a rectangular
table that was piled high with files. She assumed that one
of them was Randolph’s, one was Wesley’s and one was
hers. Her pulse kicked up a notch. The men stood and
adjusted their waistbands as Carlotta and Jack walked in.
“Agents Wick and Green,” Jack said, nodding to the slim
black man and the stocky white guy, respectively, “this is
Carlotta Wren.”
The men said hel o and she responded in kind.
“Ms. Wren has agreed to voluntarily answer whatever
questions you have about The Charmed Kil er case. She’s
eager to help, aren’t you, Carlotta?”
She nodded, suddenly realizing that both men’s eyes were
locked on her legs. Jack cleared his throat, and the men
were suddenly al business.
“Have a seat, Ms.
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