Page 109 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
I nod. “Yes, that’s correct. “
When she closes the door with more force than needed, the room plunges into an awkward silence. She dumps a spare chair next to Brandon's thigh before taking a seat in the one opposite me. It's not hard to work out who plays good cop and bad cop in her partnership. Theresa's face is as hard as stone, whereas her partner looks seconds from laughing.
His smile sags when Theresa ribs him with her elbow. After coughing to clear his throat of laughter, he leans over to switch on the camera. The instant it flashes its familiar red light, Theresa breaks into the bad cop script every agent is taught during training. It’s just not the standard set of questions I was anticipating. “Are you in a relationship with Isaac Holt?”
“I plead the fifth.”
Theresa’s manicured brow bows as her face strains with confusion. She wiggles her ear, certain she heard me wrong. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I plead the fifth amendment.”
With an evil grin, she tries another tactic. “Are you in asexualrelationship with Isaac Holt?”
I swallow harshly, praying my voice doesn’t stutter when I reply, “I plead the fifth.”
“Have you had physical contact with Isaac Holt since your placement commenced in this division of the FBI?”
“I plead the fifth.” My reply comes out sterner than I’m anticipating. It can’t be helped. Theresa’s tone could only be murkier if she dumped her words in the Hudson before articulating them.
Theresa flicks her humored gaze to Brandon. “She’s clever. A rookie agent knowing to plead the fifth. Who would have thought?” After returning her eyes to me, she snarls, “Are you planning to answer any of my questions, Ms. Brahn, or will you continue pleading the fifth amendment?”
Her partner chuckles when I declare, “I plead the fifth.” Blood races through my body, my annoyance at an all-time high. “I choose not to answer your questions on the consideration that I may be unwillingly incriminating myself.”
Brandon may have suggested I plead the fifth, but I’m not as stupid as she’s making me out to be. I did learn some tricks during my time at the academy.
A scrape bellows around the room when Theresa stands from her chair. After running her hands down her starched-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life blouse, she snags a manila folder from a black leather briefcase open on the desk. “You read a law book during your training…impressive.” She taps the folder on the desk three times, her smirk condescending. “So, you’re aware prostitution is illegal?”
“I'm well aware of that.”
Brandon squeezes my thigh, wordlessly cautioning me to stay on script.
Theresa isn’t worried about his silent warning. She’s confident she has her case in the bag. “Just because he didn’t leave money on your bedside table when he was finished, doesn’t make it any less of a crime.”
She places down a sheet of paper in front of me. It’s the lease I signed for my apartment months ago. I’m a little lost as to where our conversation is heading—until she adds a second paper to the mix. As clear as day, written in the owner section of the report is Mr. Isaac Holt.
“Ipayrent for my apartment in full every month.” Ignoring Brandon’s painful squeeze that will most likely leave a bruise, I raise my eyes to Theresa. “The owner's details werenotdisclosed when my application was processed.
“I thought you might say that, so I dug a little deeper.” She hands me a list of addresses with monthly figures on the side. “The same two-bedroom apartments in your building rent for over three thousand dollars a month—you pay twelve hundred.” Her composure drips with cockiness. “That’s not even half. Do you get a friends-with-benefits rate?”
It’s the fight of my life not to tell her exactlywhat I think of her and her inappropriate suggestions. I would if I weren’t worried she’d use it to railroad me even more than she already is.
“I plead the fifth.”
She continues with her interrogation as if I never said anything. “Then, there's this.” She slides another piece of paper across the desk. “A charter for a private jet booked under Isaac Holt’s name. How romantic; most men don’t take their mistresses on holidays with them.”
Brandon snatches the flight manifest out of my hand. “Isabelle’s name isn’t even on the manifest. That’s explicit conjecture. Everything you've presented thus far is speculation.” His legal knowledge is impressive. “Isaac Holt owns over half of Ravenshoe, so it would be virtually impossible for Isabelle to rent anything in this town that didn’t belong or have an association with him.” He stands, knocking over his seat in the process. “This interview is over. If you speak to Isabelle again without a lawyer present, I won’t hesitate to contact my father, who in turn, will have a word with your superior officer.”
With a sharp yank on my arm, I'm removed from my seat. Brandon guides me out of the room, his steps so furious, I have to jog to maintain his rapid pace. His angry strides don’t stop until we arrive in the supply closet that’s been my office the past month.
He drags his fingers through his hair, giving it an appealing sexed-up look. “You didn’t have a clue about any of that, did you?”
I shake my head. “I plead the fifth.”
He mutters something under his breath that sounds similar to “Jesus Christ, Isabelle.” His voice is clearer when he warns, “You need to be vigilant about anything you say or do over the next few days.”
When I nod, he steps closer to me. “Is Isaac Holt Mr. Unattainable?”
He stares at me with unease, begging for me to deny his accusation.
