Maybe when all of this was over, we could go fishing with Aiden and Tessa? I liked the idea of Tess and Nick dating, but I might’ve destroyed that chance at the restaurant. Not that both of them wouldn’t do what they wanted, anyway. If not, Kurt seemed like a decent guy. Tessa might be interested in him. Or perhaps she wanted to stay single right now. I should butt out of her love life and I knew it.
We reached the parking area on Justice Road and I parked right in front. “You can’t be with me during the interview.”
“I know.” Kurt jumped out of the Jeep, surveyed the area, and motioned for me to follow.
I grabbed my purse and did so, walking with him toward the main front door. “Have you been assigned bodyguarding duty before?”
“Yeah.” He walked up the steps with me and opened the door.
I paused. “Did the body survive?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He ushered me inside.
I stumbled and looked back over my shoulder to see his quick grin. “Funny.”
“You’re safe in the building. Come out this way, and I’ll be waiting.” He shut the door, apparently thinking I’d automatically obey.
I shook my head and walked to the reception area to see a uniformed cop behind the main desk. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He glanced up from a sheet of papers. “Anna Albertini. Sign here, and I’ll buzz somebody to come get you. Your attorney is already here and went to the interrogation room.”
I reached for a pen. While I hadn’t met the guy, apparently he read the paper and had recognized me.
I sighed.
Chapter 20
Iwalked into a familiar interrogation room where Clark sat across from a guy wide enough to be a Buick. They both stood.
“Hi. I’m FBI Special Agent Larry Frankenberry.” He held out a beefy hand to shake. “Thanks for coming.”
We shook hands and I crossed around to sit next to Clark, who also retook his seat.
Frankenberry wore an oversized gray suit that stretched at the seams. His tie was green and his thin shirt white with bulging buttons. His hair was light gray, sweat dotted his forehead, and his eyes were blue. He looked to be in his late fifties, and by his ruddy complexion, was about a donut away from a massive coronary.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I said.
“You, too,” he said, drawing out his chair to sit. The chair protested with a loud groan.
The door opened again, and a younger man walked inside to draw out a chair next to Frankenberry. He had thick blond hair, deep brown eyes, and a fiercely starched shirt beneath a beige suit jacket. “I’m Ross Stewart, an Assistant US Attorney for the District of Idaho.” The guy must be around thirty-five. He glanced at the top of his case file. “You are Anna Albertini, represented by attorney Clark Bunne, correct?” He looked up and we both nodded.
Detective Grant Pierce walked into the room, shut the door, and leaned back against it.
Stewart looked over his shoulder. “I think we’re fine here, Detective.” It was a clear dismissal.
“Good to hear it,” Pierce said, his expression crankier than usual.
Stewart glared. “We do not require your presence.”
“That’s unfortunate, because I am staying. We have potential state violations as well as federal ones here,” Pierce said.
Stewart apparently knew when to stop arguing. “All right. Please run me through what happened the day ATF SRT Agent Sasha Duponte was found murdered on your front porch, Miss Albertini.”
Clark shifted his weight. “Miss Albertini has already given a statement, the same one, several times. She is not doing so again. If you have certain questions regarding her statement or require clarification on any points, please ask. If not, then there was no reason for us to meet.”
Yep. Clark was wearing his Monte Carlo style wire-rimmed glasses. They were his ‘badass’ glasses, and now I knew why.
Stewart didn’t change expression. “Yet I’d like to run through it again.”
