“Hope is here,” Freddie said, “and Louis is in interrogation two.”
“Let’s see what he has to say.”
On the way to the interview room, she stopped to say good morning to Detective Neveah Charles. “Could you do me a favor and get me the address of where Gretchen Henderson lived before she became vice president?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”
“Thank you.”
Sam went down the hallway toward the interrogation room, and through the open door to observation in interview one, she could see that the bomb blast had shattered the glass between the rooms.
Hope stood outside the observation room for interrogation two, checking her phone. She straightened when she saw Sam and Freddie coming. “Faith said to expect to be called in the Nelson trial this afternoon.”
“Okay,” Sam said, her stomach dropping as she thought about having to revisit the nightmare Christopher Nelson had perpetrated.
“What’s this about?” Hope asked, gesturing to the interrogation room.
“Your guess is as good as ours. He asked to speak to us.”
“All right, then.”
With Hope in observation, Sam and Freddie stepped into the room where Louis Bingham waited for them, dressed in an orange jumpsuit. He had deep circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept a wink, and his graying hair was a mess. After what he’d done to King, she hoped he was suffering as he contemplated his future in prison.
Freddie activated the recording device on the table and recited Louis’s rights once again.
“Do you understand your rights in this matter?”
Louis nodded.
Freddie gestured to the recording. “We need words.”
“I understand my rights.”
“I’m Detective Cruz. This is my partner, Lieutenant Holland. You requested this meeting.”
Louis took a long look at Sam, so long that she nearly snapped at him to get on with it. “You’re the first lady.”
“Am I? I had no idea.”
He scowled at her. “I’ve heard you’re rude.”
“You asked to speak to us, Mr. Bingham. What can we do for you?”
“I want to know why I’m being held without charges.”
“The charges are coming. I expect you’ll be arraigned tomorrow morning.”
“On what charge?”
“First-degree murder of your stepson, King Robinson.”
He recoiled. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t kill anybody.”
“We have multiple witnesses who’d say otherwise.”
“What witnesses?”
“You’ll find out soon enough. Is there anything else we can do for you?”
