He doesn’t say a thing about Trevor, and I hope to God he didn’t protest the search. If he did...
Relief floods me when I step outside the small room and see Trevor standing just in front of the general. He looks like he’s about to lose his shit. Until he sees me. Then, the change in his expression threatens to send heat creeping up my cheeks, but I shove those thoughts somewhere they can’t distract me as I return to his side.
“Now that the unpleasantries have been taken care of,” the general says as he leads us down a long hallway, “may I offer you water or coffee, Señorita Monroe? Señor Lejune?”
He opens a door to a lavish office. His, obviously, and gestures to guest chairs as he takes a seat behind his desk.
“No, thank you, General. I’d like to get to the interview as quickly as possible. Our flight back to the United States leaves at 10:00 p.m., and, as you know, security at the airport is very thorough.” I keep my tone light but firm. It’s the only way to deal with a man like this. One used to having his every order followed. One used to being feared.
“I am afraid we have many rules to go over first, Señorita Monroe. La Cripta is only for the most dangerous of Venezuela’s criminals, and we cannot possibly allow you to see Rojas until you understand them all.” General Ochoa slides a folder from a stack on his desk and opens it. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter Nine
Dani
I’ve lostcount of the number of times I’ve nodded or said “I understand” in the past two hours. General Ochoa’s list of rules is five pages long, and not only did we have to verbally acknowledge all of them, he had agreements drawn up that we had to sign.
Luis Rojas will be inside the interrogation room when we arrive. We’re not to touch him, ask him to get up, stand, or move at all. If we leave the room for any reason, we can’t go back in. No video recording, and we’re only allowed three still images. My voice recorder was approved, but the list of questions I’mnotallowed to ask takes up two solid pages.
Most of this doesn’t surprise me. Interviewing prisoners is always a crapshoot—especially in foreign countries—but I’ve never had this many restrictions imposed on me.
The two armed soldiers who greeted us escort us down another hallway and into an elevator. Trevor tenses at my side, but relaxes when we ascend to the third floor. Down another hall to the corner of the building, and one of the soldiers scans a keycard. After a beep, the door opens with a loudthunk, and the soldier motions for us to enter.
This is it. I’m about to meet my father.
“Dani?” Trevor’s hand settles on my shoulder. “You ready?”
I peer up at him, hoping he’ll understand without words that this isn’t just any interview. Dammit. I should have told him last night. All of it. Even though he was being a jerk.
“You can do this,” he says quietly as the soldier holding the door open clears his throat. “You can do anything.”
Not this.
“SeñoritaMonroe.Entrarás ahora,” the guard says and points emphatically.
I take a deep breath, and Trevor’s scent wraps around me. It’s like the night sky after a summer’s rain. Fresh and clean, with a subtle hint of cypress underneath it all. It’s home. My home. It always has been.
Yes. I can do this.
Turning, I square my shoulders, adjust the strap of my messenger bag, and push past the soldiers and into the room.
Luis Rojas sits on the far side of a large, metal table. His hands are cuffed to a thick ring welded to the top, and he’s dressed in a plain, gray shirt and pants. The difference between the man before me and the last photo of him on the internet is so dramatic, I have to school my face into a mask to hide my shock—and horror. He’s lost at least thirty pounds, and his cheeks are sunken. Yet he’s freshly shaven, and his hair is neat and clean, combed back away from his face. Streaks of gray thread through the dark brown strands.
Behind me, Trevor stands as still as a statue, and he’s so close, I can feel his abs tense at my back. He sees it. How Luis’s eyes are the same shape as mine.
“Señor Rojas?” I say as I hand my bag to Trevor and sit across from this man who helped bring me into the world. “Me llamoDani Monroe.Encantado de conocerlo. ¿Habla Inglés?”
“Si.Yes. I speak English,” he says. His words are slow and his voice holds a heavy rasp, as if he’s not used to talking, and he angles his head slightly as he stares at me. Does he know? Can he see it too?
Trevor sets my voice recorder on the table in front of me, and I flip the switch. A moment later, the camera shutter clicks once. Two more photos before we hit our limit.
“General Ochoa graciously agreed to facilitate this interview and has allowed me to record it. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” Luis nods. “El Generalis a…reasonable man.”
“Señor Rojas, can you tell me why you were arrested?”
Taking a slow, deep breath, Luis flexes his fingers, then starts to work them like he’s squeezing an imaginary ball of thinking putty. I wish I could tell him I want to do the same thing. “I lied aboutPresidenteFarías in order to incite violence.”
