The feeling I was being watched at the Farmers Market.
The altercation in my driveway with Righty and Lefty.
The threats about Paul returning their stolen property.
Agent Sykes listens intently, interjecting with the occasional question, making small notes on her legal pad. When I finish speaking, the room is totally silent.
“That’s it,” I say dumbly, when no one else speaks. “That’s everything I remember.”
Sykes is peering at me with a peculiar expression, her slender brows arched. “Thisbossthey mentioned — Alexei?”
I nod.
“Have you ever heard that name before?”
“No.”
“And they didn’t say what your husband stole from him?”
“Ex-husband.”
“Oh?” Sykes looks down at her file. “I see here that you filed for divorce last December. According to our records, it was never finalized.”
“Only because Paul refuses to sign the papers.”
“Then you are, in fact, still married.”
“On paper,” I fire back, taking offense at her tone. “But our marriage has been effectively over for months. Years, really.”
“So you say. Unfortunately, Mrs. Hunt, the thingson paperare all that count, when it comes to an investigation.” Her fingertips drum the folder. “Files don’t lie.”
I tense at the implication.
Files don’t lie… but you might.
My eyes narrow on hers. “I don’t suppose your preciousfilereflects the restraining order I took out against Paul? And the reasons for it?”
Sykes has the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. “I do see there was an… altercation of sorts on Christmas Day at your residence. Police responded to the scene and filed a report.”
The air goes suddenly tense. I have a feeling, if I look at Conor right now, there’ll be a scary expression on his face, so I keep my eyes on the icy blonde instead. “Yes. Analtercationthat resulted in Paul being arrested — not to mention me kicking his ass out of the house for good.” I lean forward in my seat. “Perhaps that sheds a little light on why I’ve had some difficulty getting my husband to agree to a divorce. Last time I tried, he broke my favorite lamp. I’d prefer not to give him an opportunity to break anything else.”
A low sound comes from Conor’s direction. It’s almost a growl.
Sykes shoots him a speculative look before pinning me with her stare once more. “Be that as it may, you are still legally and financially bound to Paul Hunt. Which brings us back to yesterday. Clearly there are certain individuals out there who believe they can send your husband a message by putting you in the crosshairs.”
“Look, I don’t have the slightest idea what Paul is up to, nor do I want to. He’s not my concern anymore.”
“Mhmm.” Her head tilts again in that predatory way. “And you maintain you have no knowledge of what he took from thisAlexeicharacter you mentioned earlier?”
“No. I mean yes. I mean— I have no knowledge of it!” Her phrasing is tripping me up. I’m not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or merely the fact that I’m here, at freaking FBI Headquarters, but my mind is spinning and my pulse is racing. The longer this goes on, the less it feels like being interviewed… and the more it feels like beinginterrogated.
But that can’t be possible.
Right?
I’m the victim here!
Except… Sykes isn’t looking at me like I’m a victim. She’s looking at me like she’s holding a hammer and the final nail for my coffin.