Page 18 of A Snowed in Valentine's

“It was Flight 18,” Daphne corrected, then realized Carter must have deliberately said the wrong number.

“And did you board that plane?”

She hesitated, then said, “Yes.”

With a sigh, Carter leaned back in her seat. “Do you know why you’re here, Miss Emerson?”

Daphne had a pretty good feeling she knew exactly what was going on. She also knew that if she said the wrong thing, she just might dig herself into an even deeper hole.

“I’m not saying anything else until I get an attorney,” she said.

“What?” O’Hara practically shrieked.

“You heard me.” She hoped she sounded as confident as she hoped.

“Are you insane?” He gave a sardonic chuckle, pushing off the wall and coming to the table, his hands bracing the edges. “You think this is a police station? Do you think you got arrested for speeding? He leaned across the table, his features settling into a scowl. “This is the FBI, lady. You’re a prime suspect in an ongoing investigation of what we’re starting to think was a terrorist attack.”

“Mark…” Carter began.

O’Hara ignored her. When he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth, just missing Daphne’s hands. “You’re luckywe’rethe ones handling this matter. You could be dealing with Homeland Security right now. You got any idea how badly they want to squeeze information out of you?”

“Mark, cut it out,” his partner warned.

“After what you’ve done, Emerson,” he went on, “your rights are pretty much forfeited. You’re a threat to national security. No one—and I meanno one—would give two shits if you left this room in a body bag.”

“Mark!”

He retreated, still fuming. It took Daphne a moment to realize her heart was pounding like a set of drums. She shook her hair out of her face with a jerk of her head, avoiding Mark’s gaze.

“Sorry about that,” Carter said, flashing her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The reason you’re here is that a Mrs. Patricia Elliot placed a phone call to the police claiming she had information about the missing airline. According to her, one of her neighbors was acting rather strangely, claiming she was on the plane when it…” She frowned. “When itcrashed. She thinks you must have had something to do with it. Her complaint didn’t make much sense at first until the FBI did some digging and found that you had connections to that missing flight.”

She leaned forward in her seat, biting her lip. “Do tell me, Miss Emerson, how come you’re here if you boarded the flight?”

Well, I’m a witch, and I cast a spell that split me in two.

How the heck was she supposed to tell them that? They’d never believe her. As far as she knew, the FBI already thought she was a terrorist. No way was she getting out ofthisproblem.

“I told you,” Daphne tried again, “I’m not saying anything unless I get my attorney. I know my damn rights.”

She had a feeling O’Hara had been bluffing, trying to spook her. Then again, the odds really weren’t in her favor right now.Shewasa prime suspect, and it was not for murder or robbery but for terrorism. The United States took that seriously. O’Hara was right. She was lucky things hadn’t gone worse for her.

But she had the feeling they were about to.

Carter sighed again. The agent looked almost as tired as Daphne felt. She picked up the recorder and set it at the center of the table, her finger hovering over theplaybutton.

“This,” she said solemnly, “is a recording of a distress signal that was sent to air traffic control. We retrieved it just this morning. It’s a message from the pilot himself, right before Flight 18 went dark.”

Daphne’s throat went dry. She wanted to be anywhere but here. Maybe if she banged her head on the table hard enough, she’d wake up on Frost Mountain again. August Kane was a madman who seemed to hate her even more than she hated him, but she would give anything to be back there right now, not to mention he wasn’t bad to look at…

She allowed herself to think of his broad, muscular chest, his solid middle, and the part of him that settled proudly between his sinewy thighs. She despised the man more than anything, yet there was something about the memory of him being on top of her that aroused her, turning her nipples into rock-hard diamonds in seconds.

And when she’d accidentally kissed him…

“Please listen,” Carter said, jerking Daphne out of her reverie and back into painful reality.

The agent pressedplay.

“Mayday!” screamed a voice thick with agitation. “Mayday! Daystar code 7700!”

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