She and Carson had to find him.
Before anyone else did.
“While you consider your answer to that question,” Schaffer said, moving on, “let’s talk about Zac Holderfield. Where were you on Sunday, September fifth, between eight and eleven p.m.?”
Annette shifted her position; the men in the room followed the move with considerable interest. “I was home.” She looked directly at Schaffer then. “You had me under surveillance. You should have that answer on record.”
“Did you,” Schaffer asked, undeterred by her attitude, “have any personal or professional dealings with Zachary Holderfield?”
“You’ll recall,” Lynch added, “that your name was written on his father’s appointment calendar.”
Time to finish this. “I was not acquainted with Zachary Holderfield. My only contact with Dr. Holderfield and Senator Drake was in my capacity as a fundraising coordinator. We attended a few of the same social functions.” She shrugged. “That’s where it begins and ends. There’s nothing else to tell.”
The door to the interview room opened and another player, one Annette didn’t know, rushed in and handed a document to Lynch.
This could be trouble. In Annette’s experience, a last-minute addition to the agenda always meant trouble.
Lynch passed the document to Schaffer, who studied it a moment before leveling her gaze on Annette once more. “Ms. Baxter, do you own a thirty-eight-caliber revolver?”
An alarm sounded deep inside Annette. “No. I’m anti-gun.” There were far better and simpler ways to manipulate a result than violence.
Schaffer glanced at the document once more. “Have you ever used the alias Annette Anderson?”
Panic banded around Annette’s chest. “Excuse me?” How the hell had this happened? No one knew.
“The thirty-eight registered to that name has been confirmed as the murder weapon in Zachary Holderfield’s murder.”
Impossible. Annette had disposed of that weapon.
“Confirming this alias will be a simple matter, Ms. Baxter,” Schaffer pressed. “Your cooperation would make matters far better for you. Have you”—she looked directly, bluntly at Annette—“ever used the alias Annette Anderson?”
The panic mounted, pulsed inside Annette as her gaze swung to the mirrored glass shielding the observation booth ... to where she knew Carson Tanner watched.
He was the only one who had known.
Had he changed sides since they arrived?
For that matter, had he ever been on her side?
“Since you appear disinclined to answer that question,” Schaffer pressed on, “perhaps you’ll answer this one.”
Annette fixed her attention back on the tenacious agent.Get this over with and get out of here. Stay calm.
“What time last night did you finish yourbusinesswith your assistant, Daniel Ledger?”
Annette shrugged. “Around midnight. Daniel was—”
“Danielwas,” Schaffer contended, “your alibi.”
Dread bloomed in Annette’s chest. “Daniel is my alibi.”
“Daniel Ledger was killed in an automobile accident.”
Denial and then remorse flooded Annette. Daniel had been her faithful employee for six years. God. First Jazel ... now Daniel. “When?” The one word was tainted with far more anguish than she would have liked Schaffer to hear.
“I can’t give you a specific time. The accident occurred in the Mountain Brook area. According to the ME, probably in the last twelve hours.” Schaffer considered Annette a moment before continuing. “The strange thing is, he was driving a stolen Crown Vic, black in color, with a stolen dealer’s license plate. Were you aware your assistant was a thief?”
Thief? Daniel wasn’t a thief . . . he was . . .
