Page 114 of Body and Soul

As we stepped out into the chilly fall air, a sinking feeling settled in my gut. I had no doubts that this was related to theChildren of the Light somehow. Whether I was to be treated as a suspect or a witness remained to be seen.

The drive to the station was tense and silent. I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets of Columbus blur past between exchanging texts with Eli, letting him know I’d be back late. I didn’t want him to worry, so I told him I needed to hold emergency office hours. Depending on how this interrogation went, I’d hopefully have more to tell him afterwards.

The precinct was a hive of activity as I was led through the bustling bullpen, phones ringing shrilly and officers striding past with purposeful steps. The air smelled of stale coffee, sweat, and ink. I kept my face impassive, betraying none of the unease churning in my stomach as we reached a nondescript door near the back of the building.

The lead officer opened it, revealing a small, sterile room. A metal table was bolted to the floor in the center, flanked by two chairs. The walls were a dull gray, the fluorescent lights harsh and unforgiving. A large mirror on the wall opposite the door was obviously two-way glass. I had no doubt that this room had born witness to countless confessions and breakdowns. I had no intention of adding to that number.

“Have a seat, Dr. Laskin,” the officer said gruffly, gesturing to one of the chairs.

I stepped inside, the door closing with a heavy clang behind me. The sound echoed in the bare room, ratcheting up the tension. I settled into the cold metal chair and placed my bag on the floor beside me before folding my hands on the table, projecting an air of calm I did not feel.

I was acutely aware of the camera mounted in the corner, its unblinking eye recording my every micro-expression. I knew that every twitch, every blink, every breath would be scrutinized for signs I was lying or withholding information, so I stared it down.

The door swung open and Agent Ashley Valentine limped into the room. He favored his left side as he made his way to the table, leaning heavily on a cane with each halting step. His once youthful face was now lined and weathered, his hair more silver than black. But his eyes, those keen gray eyes, were as sharp and penetrating as ever as they locked onto me.

Valentine eased himself into the chair across from me with a barely suppressed grunt of pain, his knee no doubt protesting the movement. He set his cane against the edge of the table with a metallic clank that echoed in the sparse room.

“Agent Valentine,” I greeted him coolly, arching a brow. “What happened to your leg?”

A muscle in Valentine's jaw ticked as he glared at me, a mixture of anger and frustration simmering in his gaze. “You know damn well what happened, Laskin,” he growled, his gravelly voice dripping with accusation.

I kept my expression carefully neutral, refusing to rise to his bait. “I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.”

Valentine leaned forward, his forearms braced on the table, the fluorescent light casting harsh shadows across his face. “You were there that night, at the cult's campground. When the FBI raided the place. I saw you.”

I met his steely gaze unflinchingly. “That's quite an accusation, Agent Valentine. Do you have any proof?”

His jaw clenched. “If I did, you’d already be behind bars, Laskin. Lucky for you, my superiors aren’t that interested in you. All they care about is closing up this case with a neat little bow.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Then why am I here, Agent Valentine? If your superiors aren't interested in me, what's the point of this little interrogation?”

Valentine's eyes narrowed. “Because I know you know more than you’re saying. Why were you there, Dr. Laskin? Help me figure out what happened that night.”

I held Valentine's piercing gaze, my expression a mask of practiced indifference. “I'm afraid I can't help you, Agent Valentine. As I've said, I wasn't there that night. I don't know anything about what happened at the cult's campground.”

Valentine's fist slammed against the table. “Bullshit! We both know that's a lie, Laskin. I saw you there with my own damn eyes.”

“You're mistaken, Agent Valentine,” I said calmly. “I was home that night, grading papers.”

Valentine scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. “Right. Maybe I’ll bring Elias Baker in to corroborate that. See what he has to say about that night.”

My hands clenched into fists beneath the table. “Leave Eli out of this,” I bit out, a warning clear in my tone.

“Then give me something, Laskin. Anything.”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping harshly against the concrete floor. “If you're not going to arrest me, Agent Valentine, then this interview is over. I have nothing more to say to you.” I grabbed my leather bag and strode toward the door with purposeful steps.

“Sit down, Laskin,” Valentine barked, his voice sharp as a whip crack. “We're not done here.”

I paused, my hand on the cool metal doorknob, and glanced back at him over my shoulder. “I believe we are. Unless you have some actual evidence to hold me on, I'm leaving.”

“We've confirmed that your sister Daniella was spotted in Malaysia. With Ezekiel.”

The breath left my lungs in a sharp exhale, as if Valentine had physically struck me. I turned to face him, my grip tightening on the strap of my bag until my knuckles whitened. “What did you just say?”

Valentine leaned back in his chair, a glint of satisfaction in his gray eyes. “You heard me. Seems like your little stunt at thecampground didn't quite pan out the way you'd hoped. Instead of rescuing your sister, all you managed to do was aid in their escape.”

I swallowed hard, a muscle in my jaw ticking as I fought to maintain my composure. I had hoped that the FBI had her in holding somewhere, that perhaps there would be a trial and an opportunity for her to make a deal and walk away. But if she’d left the country, there would be no deals. I wasn’t even sure I could mount a rescue now.

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