“Yes.Yes, of course.I can get you everything.I’m not making this up!”
Kate tapped a fingertip against the table.Three times.Soft enough that he couldn’t see the impatience but she could feel it.
“Is that what the compensation payment was for?”
He shook his head.“That’sstill rumbling on.The Friday payout was medical negligence.”
“You sue a lot of people, Mr Webb?”
He shrugged.“Some.”
There was a long pause.
“All right,” she said.
She held his gaze for a long, quiet moment.
“Art supplies.”
“What?”
“You searched for art supplies.”
He stared at her.“What’s wrong with that?”
Kate held his gaze.His reaction seemed genuine.And the media blackout concerning the crime scenes, as far as she knew, was still in place.
Webb wilted first.
“Look,” he said, voice hoarse.“I know why I’m here.I know you think I did… something.But I didn’t kill anybody.I wouldn’t.I couldn’t.”A fresh wave of agitation rippled through him.“My niece’s fifteenth birthday’s next week. She’s really talented.Paints, draws, sculpts, she’s an amazing kid.I thought about sending her something before I left but then I thought, well, it would be better if I sent her something from Paris, right?”
“What’s your niece’s name?”
“Zendrah.Zendrah Hearst.”
She let the silence stretch just long enough that he began tapping his foot.
“We’re checking your payout,” she said finally.“Your travel records.Your medical reports.The niece.Everything.If your story holds up, you and I will talk again with a lawyer present.”She stood.“In the meantime, sit tight.”
He jolted upright.“Wait—where are you going?”
“To do my job.”
His eyes widened, panic blooming across his face.“Please don’t leave me alone in here.Please.I swear I didn’t do anything.”
“Then you’ll be fine.”
She reached the door.Opened it.
“Agent Valentine,” he blurted.
She paused in the threshold.
“Please believe me,” he said, voice raw.“If I’d known you were FBI, I would’ve stopped.I’m not a criminal.I’m not—” His throat bobbed.“I’m not that guy.”
Kate considered him for a long moment — the fluttering hands, the sheen of sweat, the earnest desperation.
"We'll see," she said and stepped out.
