Page 74 of Rescued Dreams
They didn’t know about the mind games.
Basuto frowned. “We need you to come to the police station for questioning. Understand, you aren’t under arrest, but your cooperation in answering the questions we have will go a long way to establishing some goodwill with the department.”
Kane shifted a fraction closer to her. “Questions about what?”
“Voluntarily accompanying us to the police station isn’t an admission of guilt. On the contrary, it’s a way for you to state your case and your innocence in this matter.”
He wasn’t going to answer the question.
Amelia folded her arms. “What matter?”
Jessica’s expression shifted, her lips thinned, but she kept the rest of her features steady. Even if she didn’t like this and how it was going down, there wasn’t much she could do. Defying her superior wouldn’t go well.
Amelia figured Basuto thought Jessica might actually consider Amelia the victim, and that would make her unable to be impartial. Which meant they had reason to wonder if she was guilty.
But guilty of what?
Basuto said, “It’s regarding the incidents at fire scenes.”
That was all the two of them were willing to tell Amelia. She had to ride in the back of the police car, and they didn’t answer even one of her questions. Even Jessica said nothing but, “We’ll be there soon, and then we’ll get all this figured out.”
It took forever to actually get to the interview room, a tiny box probably designed to look like a prison cell. One table, four chairs. A huge one-way glass window so whoever was next door could listen in without her knowing they were there.
When Basuto finally said, “Please have a seat,” Amelia slumped into it, completely exhausted. Not good. She needed her wits about her if she was going to survive this guy and his questions.
Jessica sat beside Basuto, across the table from Amelia. “Coffee? Water? Anything else?”
“No, thank you.” Even in a police station, she wasn’t going to accept a drink she hadn’t witnessed being made. Too many times she’d allowed even a tiny risk, and it had backfired in her face.
Jessica set a manila file on the table in front of her. “I understand you’re aware that information was provided to us regarding the identity of whoever ran from the fire scenes recently.”
“Thankfully, no one was hurt.” Amelia sat back in the chair. “Then I was nearly killed in the training house, which is why I’m not at work right now.” She looked at her watch, but the time wasn’t really a factor. She didn’t want to think about how long this would take, but considering it was after nine already, it would be a late night.
By design?—so they could catch her in a slip of the tongue because she was tired?
“We aren’t sure those events are connected.” Basuto shifted in his seat. “But the first two are the ones we’re here to talk to you about.”
Amelia glanced between them. Elam was the one who’d turned information over to Kane, who’d given it to these cops. They might not even know that she had been part of that, letting her brother enter the house to retrieve something from a tiny hidey-hole lockbox or safe or whatever had been in the wainscoting that she’d never noticed. But he had what he wanted now, so what did it matter?
Jessica flipped open the file and slid a page across, a printout of an image. The security video that Elam had passed on. “Have you ever seen this man? Do you know who he is?”
Amelia slid the photo across the table so she could see it more clearly. “I’ve never seen that guy before. I don’t know who he is.” She was pretty sure this wasn’t him, even if she had been too far to get a good look.
“And this?” Jessica slid over a bank statement.
“Amelia Hilden?” That was the name on the account. “With the mansion’s address? That’s the first clue something is wrong here.”
“How’s that?” Basuto asked.
But Amelia’s attention skimmed down the transactions. “This isn’t mine.” Cash in. Cash deposits. “Nine thousand nine hundred seventy-four? Why not just find twenty-six dollars and make it an even ten thousand?” She shook her head.
She’d never seen that much cash in her life.
Basuto said, “Because ten thousand is the threshold where your deposit has to be reported to the IRS.”
“So this person is staying under the radar?”
Basuto said, “Looks to me like that person is you.”
