Stewart sighed. “No, they have not. Sasha and Aiden met at the Lordes complex the night before she died, and they both committed to the plan they’d come up with. He agreed to stick with the plan of fathering a child with her.”
“Who’s your source?” Clark asked.
Stewart shrugged. “Another ATF agent close to Sasha. I don’t have to disclose witnesses yet.” He leaned forward. “I think Devlin told you about this plan, and I think it infuriated you, and I think you killed her.” He shook his head. “It happens in the heat of a moment. She attacked you at the bar and then again in the alley, and I believe you lost it in a moment of passion.”
“Bullshit,” Clark said. “You’re creating an interesting narrative with no facts.”
Yet those were all facts and a pretty decent narrative, which was what convinced juries. The room swam around me, and I dug my nails into my palm to keep myself centered.
Stewart continued as if Clark hadn’t spoken. “Because of this situation, I’m willing to offer you a plea bargain. We reduce the homicide charge to third-degree with a five year sentence. This all goes away and your boyfriend stays safe in his current assignment. I mean, ex-boyfriend. He was planning a family with another woman, so I doubt you would’ve continued? Who knows? Either way, this is the best deal you’re going to get.”
Plead guilty to murder? Go to prison? The ground fell out beneath me.
Frankenberry drank his glass of water in two gulps. “We have witness statements from Sasha’s friends, Lordes members, and the women you fought with in the bar, alley, and restaurant. We also have your prints on the murder weapon and the bloody scene at your porch. It does look like a crime of passion to me.”
I couldn’t believe this. It was all so surreal, and yet, my palms grew sweaty. The edges of the room started to close in, and I fought a panic attack while remaining perfectly still.
“All righty then.” Clark pushed away from the table. “Anna, let’s go.”
Stewart looked directly at me. “You said you’d answer my questions. I’m not finished yet.”
Clark stood and pulled my chair back. “That was before we realized you didn’t know what you’re doing. You’re trying to pin a murder on an innocent woman, and we just stopped cooperating. Arrest and charge her, or we’re leaving.”
They didn’t have enough to charge me yet. I didn’t think.
“We have enough to charge her,” Stewart said easily. “However, the FBI and Attorney General’s Office is working closely with the ATF right now to make sure our agents are protected so they can prevent a terrorist attack. Arresting your client puts their mission and lives in jeopardy, so we’re not going to do so yet.” He smiled. “Regardless, the arrest is going to happen, so you have twenty-four hours to take the deal or any offer is off the table. If it’s off the table, when I do charge you, it’ll be for first-degree murder. I’ll show the jury that you took that potato gun and then lured Sasha to your house to kill her with it. You had motive, opportunity, and ability. In addition, we have physical evidence against you, as you know.”
Pierce remained silent but looked so somber my knees wobbled. This couldn’t be happening.
It really couldn’t.
Clark laughed and the sound made me jump. “You’ve got nothing. You just mentioned how intelligent my client is, and yet you think she killed her boyfriend’s ex on her own porch before calling the police? Right. She also threw the murder weapon, if it really was the weapon, into her own bushes where it would be easily found? Uh-huh.” He pressed a hand to my lower back to propel me around the table. “Thanks for the laugh, gentlemen.”
Stewart leaned back so he could keep us in his sights. “The autopsy results should be ready on Monday or Tuesday, and when I have them, I’m getting a warrant for DNA. The second that comes in, I’m arresting you and going for first-degree, Miss Albertini.”
Pierce opened the door, and I moved into the hallway, where Clark grasped my arm and escorted me down the stairs and out the front door. It was early evening, but the heat still pressed in on me.
I couldn’t breathe.
Kurt waited outside, leaning against the bricks. “You okay?”
I shook my head and tried to force air into my lungs.
Clark shoved my shoulders down so I was bent over. “Breathe. Stop the panic and breathe through it. You’re okay.” He rubbed gentle circles across my upper back.
Kurt’s scuffed black boots came into my vision. “What’s wrong with her?”
Clark’s sigh ruffled my hair. “She’s going to be charged with first-degree murder by Wednesday. I think she’s gone into a panic attack.”
“I don’t blame her,” Kurt said grimly.
Chapter 21
Isettled against pillows in my bed and streamed a show about baking. For a Saturday night in August, the lake was surprisingly quiet outside with no boat lights illuminating the waves, although the moon was doing a decent job of it. The blinds to my sliding glass door were open, but it was securely locked with a bar preventing it being opened at all.
Zena had elected to stay up with Kurt because I think he kept slipping her treats. He slept on the sofa outside. Or he planned to, anyway. It was midnight, and I could hear him rustling in the kitchen. Maybe he didn’t sleep much.
My three calls to Aiden that afternoon had gone to voice mail. For all I knew, he was in Seattle already dealing with criminals. The idea was keeping me from sleeping, so I gave in to worry and let myself binge-watch the creation of raspberry filled pastries. I wrapped my arms around my knees and waited for the next episode to begin.
