Page 108 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“Yes.” I accept the hand she’s holding out in offering.
“Theresa Veneto. I’m from the Internal Affairs Division of the FBI.”
Her handshake is robust, nearly as sturdy as her lips, which are set in a straight line. She's attractive—if you can look past the harshness of her punitive glare. If I had to guess her age, I'd say early to mid-thirties. Her long blonde hair frames her oval face, and her eyes are blue.
“How can I help you, Ms. Veneto?”
It takes me yanking my hand out of her clutch to free it from her rigid grip, and even then, she seems reluctant to let me go. I stuff my hands into my pockets, uneased by her odd-ball behavior. When her humored eyes float around my office, I follow the direction of her gaze. Every agent in the direct vicinity of us is watching our exchange, including Alex, who’s standing next to Brandon's now-empty desk.
“Perhaps we should take this somewhere private?”
When she gestures for me to follow her, I do, albeit hesitantly. She guides me to the dimly lit conference room where Brandon and I discovered Isaac’s connection with Col Petretti. My already wobbly strides increase their shake when I notice a male agent in the room. He's seated behind a camera tripod on the table that once held the files I’ve been scanning the past several weeks. They’re not the only thing missing. My uncle's moldy storage boxes have also been removed.
When I enter the room, the male agent assesses my body in a creepy, skin-crawling way. “I understand Isaac’s interest.”
Either missing her partner’s statement or happy to ignore it, Theresa requests for me to sit in the chair across from the video camera. Just as I plop down, a knock rattles the window behind my head. Relief washes over me when I see Brandon on the other side.
“As the union representative for this division, I need five minutes to talk to Ms. Brahn before her interview commences.” Brandon’s tone conveys he’s not seeking permission. He’s telling them this is what is happening.
Theresa huffs, annoyed. “Five minutes.”
The male agent places on his suit jacket, his belly so round, the buttons nearly burst during fastening. When the glass door of the conference room closes with them on the other side, I drift my eyes to Brandon.
“Wha—”
“Be quiet, Izzy.”
“I—”
“Shut up, Isabelle.”
I freeze, stunned. This is the first time I’ve heard him curse. When he jerks his chin up, I look in the direction he nudged. There's a security camera mounted in the corner of the room. It's flashing red, indicating we're being watched.
“What the hell,” I murmur to myself when the blinking light ceases a few seconds later.
Before I can ask what is happening, Brandon locks his panicked eyes with mine. “I strongly advise you to plead the fifth—”
“I don’t have anything to hide.”
My relationship with Isaac may be construed as immoral, but nothing I’ve done the past month was criminal.
“Please don’t be stupid. They’re here to charge you with conspiracy in aiding and abetting a criminal by supplying him with official government documents. If you don’t plead the fifth, you’re looking at over twenty years in jail.”
“Why?” I mutter, my one word breathless. “I’ve never given Is—”
“Shut up!” Brandon’s growl vibrates right through my chest. “I can’t guarantee they don’t have ears in here.” After pressing his sweat-slicked palms to the white melamine tabletop, his gaze seeks mine. “Plead the fifth, then I’ll do everything in my power to help you through this.” Even though his tone is stern, his request still comes out as a plea.
I still feel it's the wrong thing to do, but I nod. Brandon has gone out of his way to help me. He wouldn't do that unless he believes it's imperative.
“I’ll stay with you during your interview, but no matter what they say or do, continuously plead the fifth.”
My stomach churns so much, I feel like I’m about to be sick, but I still nod—somewhat. It’s more a halfhearted agreement than a determined one.
Not long later, Agent Theresa and her partner re-enter the room. “Your five minutes are up.” She nudges her head to the door, giving Brandon his marching orders.
“Isabelle has requested a union representative be present during her interview.”
Theresa’s jaw ticks as her eyes drop to mine. “Is that correct, Isabelle?” She sneers my name like it left a nasty taste in her mouth.
