Page 19 of When You're Safe

“I’ll reserve my judgment,” Ameliasaid. “Let’s talk to him first. We have him detained for selling illegalalcohol, that could be the end of it.”

Finn sighed, running his fingersthrough his Nordic blond hair.

“What’s up with the grumpy specialagent?” Amelia asked, putting on a babyish voice. “Is it because I didn’t letyou try some of St. Albans’ Special Brew?”

“Just a sip would have sufficed,” Finnreplied. “Would it have killed you? I wanted to know if it was any good.”

“We’ll have a pint together assoon as we’re done with this case,” Amelia said. “Would that make you feelbetter?”

“Are youbuying?” Finn grinned.

“Sure.”

“Deal.” Finn nodded toward theinterview room. “He’s lawyered up in there.”

Amelia sighed. She knew legalrepresentation was necessary to protect the innocent, but that didn’t make herenjoy the process any more.

“I’m telling you, he’s guilty assin,” Finn said, pushing himself off of the wall and straightening up.

Amelia was still taken aback attimes by Finn’s physical presence. She was glad he was on her side.

“You got his file then?” Finnsaid, pointing to the folder under Amelia’s arm.

She nodded and then said, “I’lltake the lead, but chime in if you think of something in that big old brain ofyours.”

Finn nodded. “Thank you. It ismassive.”

“Such a burden for you to carry,”Amelia said with a smirk, then took a serious tone. “Shall we?”

“Ladies first,” Finn said.

Amelia opened the door to theinterview room. It was a tight room with a small bland white table and four metalfolding chairs situated around it. Devon Langdon was seated in one of them, hislawyer in another beside him.

Devon was a man in his late thirties,his black hair and beard trimmed so perfectly that Amelia knew that putting onan appearance was important to him. To her, though, he exuded the demeanor of acon man.

His lawyer was around the sameage, with thick glasses, thinning fair hair, and a shirt collar that was too tightfor his neck. He looked to be under more stress than his client. Amelia hopedit was because the solicitor knew they had Devon hook, line, and sinker.

Finn took a seat next to Ameliaand she smiled across the table at Devon and his representative, hoping to putthem at ease before turning the screw.

Leaning over, she pressed Recordon an old tape recorder that was the only way the station had to recordinterviews.

“Cassettes?” Devon Langdon said ina disapproving voice. “Next thing you’ll be doing is filming me on VHS. Whatsort of operation is this?”

“A serious one,” Amelia said in astrong, cold tone.

There was a silence for a moment.

“This is the police interview onAugust twelfth at Carnwell police station of Mr. Devon Langdon. Mr. Langdon’ssolicitor, Graham Weathers, is present, as is Finn Wright, an FBI agent workingas a consulting detective with Hertfordshire Constabulary, at the bequest ofthe Home Office. Inspector Amelia Winters leading the interview. The time is currentlyfour thirty-two p.m.

“Mr. Langdon,” Amelia began, “youwere arrested this afternoon trying to escape questioning by us, why was that?”

“I’ve met dodgy coppers before,”he said in a thick cockney accent. “I was worried you were trying to stitch meup.”

“That doesn’t seem reasonable,”Amelia answered back. “Why were you really running?”

“My client,” Weathers said,clearing his throat, “has recently been the victim of police persecution.Several members of the local constabulary have been putting unfair pressure onhim simply because, as a younger man, he served a sentence at Her Majesty’spleasure.”

Amelia looked down at the case filebefore her. She opened it, knowing full well that she could use it as a way toput pressure on the suspect. “Yes, I see you have a pretty colorful career as acriminal.”

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