I look back and forth between Agents Farley and Kingston, the same agents who’d led Gibby away in handcuffs. How had it come to this? Our coach, the man who was supposed to lead us to Tokyo and a gold medal, decided to screw with drug tests right before the Games, and now what? He’s just gone. It doesn’t make any sense.
Unless … what?
Unless he wanted Sierra on the team over Dani all along and couldn’t get the rest of the committee to agree? But why would he want that? Dani is the stronger gymnast. If anyone would be replaced by Sierra because of gymnastics, well, it’d be me.
“Do you understand, Miss Lee?” Agent Kingston asks, breaking off my own totally amateur mental investigation for her legit one.
First cursing and now zoning out.Oh my God, get yourself together, Audrey.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Your coach,” Agent Kingston says, her eyes flickering over my shoulder to Pauline, “has informed us that over the years she’s served as a legal guardian when your parents were unavailable. She has paperwork to that effect, but we want to make sure that’s okay with you. We can call them if you want, but you’re not in any trouble, Audrey. We’re simply trying to get a complete picture of the current situation.”
I hesitate and look back to Pauline, who smiles again, but the tension around her eyes is obvious. Nodding, I shift in my seat, sitting up straighter, folding my hands in my lap, and looking back and forth between the two agents, eyebrows raised.
Agent Kingston begins in a soft voice, “What can you tell us about the night you made the Olympic team?”
“I already told you, she doesn’t know anything,” Pauline cuts in, and all three of us stare at her. She’s fiddling with the end of her ponytail. The last time I saw her doing that was at worlds during Emma’s final rotation, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen this particular expression on her face. Jaw set, brow furrowed, her eyes darting back and forth between the two agents like she doesn’t know where she should be looking.
“Ma’am, if you’re going to hinder this interview—”
“Wait.” I glance back at Pauline and then look the agents in the eye, one after the other. “It’s fine … I just … Do you want the whole day?”
“Just start after it was announced you made the team.”
I have no idea what any of this has to do with drug tests, but they’re the investigators, not me. So I tell them about my interviews and back pain, then about my drug test taking forever and about being last on the bus and going to the reception party and meeting Leo and getting that text from Emma about the party.
“Did you go to the party?”
I wrinkle my nose and have to actively stop myself from glancing back to Pauline. Pretty sure she didn’t know about Emma and me partying all night in that suite. Not that it should matter at this point. I mean, I’m being questioned by FBI agents and my head coach has been arrested. Perspective and all that, right?
“Yeah, Leo walked me back to my room and we …” Do I have to tell them about the almost-kiss? “And we said good night,” I mumble, hoping that’s enough to get the point across. The agents both smile, maybe making more of it than it actually was.
I catch Pauline’s reflection in one of the picture frames over the agents’ heads, her mouth twisted into a frown, but I’m not about to lie. I watch the news. Lying to the FBI is a crime, and way bigger fish than me have gone to jail for it. “He had a flight to catch, so he left right after that, and then Emma and I went to the party.”
“Did you see Daniela Olivero there?”
“I …” I start and then hesitate. I thought Dani had been there, but did I actually see her? “No, I don’t think so.”
“Do you remember the last time you saw her that night?”
“Um … maybe … maybe at the reception for a minute, but I … I was distracted.”
Agent Kingston nods sympathetically, the way I’m sure she was trained to do when dealing with younger people she’s interrogating, probably to make me feel safe and more willing or some bullshit. “It’s okay if you don’t remember, Audrey. Just do your best.”
“Okay.”
My palms are sweaty and sliding against each other, despite the chalk that’s still caked in each line and crevice.
“Did you receive any texts that night, besides the one from Emma?”
“No, I don’t … Oh, wait, yes, I did, from Gibby—er, Coach Gibson.”
“And what did it say?”
Crap—I don’t remember exactly, just the feeling it gave me. “I think it was something like that I should celebrate that night, but remember what he told me or said to me, something like that, just like a reminder.”
Agent Farley’s eyes light up. “A reminder of what?”
