35
9:50 a.m.
1000 18th Street, Birmingham
Federal Bureau of Investigation
The interview room was more spacious than the ones used by the local police, but still austere.
Annette took the chair Agent Schaffer indicated. The one in the center of the room. No table, just a chair. Agents Schaffer and Davis, along with Detective Lynch, sat behind a long table, nearer the observation window, their backs to those inside that booth. Those observing only needed to see the body language of the suspect or, as in Annette’s case, the person of interest, and to hear the interview.
“Would you like water or coffee, Ms. Baxter?” Davis asked.
“No thank you.”
“Let’s get started then,” Schaffer suggested.
Annette relaxed more fully in her chair and cleared all thought from her mind. She was a master at the art of outwitting a polygraph. Preventing these cops from reading her face or her body language would be a snap.
“Where were you between ten and midnight last night?”
With Carson. But that was none of their business.
Annette pursed her lips as if giving the question due consideration. “I was home,” Annette lied. “Fucking my assistant. I believe you’ve met him.”
Davis scribbled a note on his pad. He looked up when he’d finished, taking a moment to drag his gaze from her legs to her eyes. “We’ll need to confirm that.”
“Be my guest.”
“Since your assistant is in your employ,” Schaffer countered, “and is therefore obligated to you on some level, is there anyone else who can confirm your whereabouts?”
“Your team generally keeps tabs on my movements. I’m sure you can follow up with them on that as well.” But then, she’d given them the slip last night as she did on numerous occasions. It was all too easy. Annette had several sources at her disposal. For the exorbitant fees she paid, any one of them would gladly take her place and lead the feds on a wild goose chase. Funny thing was, it always worked.
An ache tugged at her chest. Except for Jazel ... she was dead. Annette thought of the car that had tried running her off the road last night. Was that what had happened to Jazel? She shuddered inwardly but worked fast to check her emotions. She couldn’t let them see any weakness.
Schaffer moved on. “Did you have any personal or professional contact with the senator?”
Focus, Annette.“None.”
There wasn’t a single verifiable link between her and the senator. At any time.
“Did you have any reason to want the senator dead?”
Annette hesitated only a moment. “Not unless you count his lack of judgment in the way he cast his votes in recent Senate sessions.”
Davis smirked.
Lynch glared.
Schaffer rolled her eyes. “We have all day, Ms. Baxter. Take your time with your answers.”
Agent Schaffer was growing frustrated. Good. She had nothing on Annette. She did, however, have a rather bland pair of boots on today. Brown. Just plain brown. Maybe the fed was depressed. Perhaps the death of a high-profile politician in her jurisdiction had something to do with her current disposition.
“I’m waiting, Ms. Baxter,” Schaffer prompted.
Annette would be out of here in no time. And they would still have nothing.
She couldn’t prove her suspicions about who killed Senator Drake, but the one person who could give Carson the truth and prove Annette was on the up-and-up was Dane Drake.
