Page 11 of Fatal Intent
Rayne blinked. “Seriously?”
“Oh, yes. It’s a simple solution to the murder. Not only are you convenient, Rayne, you’re a highly trained black ops soldier. You, my dear, have some lethal skills. Killing another person would be child’s play for you.”
She stared at the lawyer. He couldn’t know about her past. Could he?
“Rayne?”
She tore her gaze from Vince and focused on Grant.
“You okay?”
“Peachy.” Just another early morning at a police station, accused of murder. Again.
Grant looked skeptical, but he didn’t call her out on it. Thank goodness. Telling Grant would be hard enough when they were alone. Even her teammates didn’t know about her past, a deliberate choice. She didn’t want to be judged by her teenage years but by the choices she’d made in adulthood.
Too bad her former colleagues had ferreted out her secret and made her life on the job as miserable as possible. Brent Maddox’s offer to join Fortress Security had arrived just in time.
“We’re running out of time.” Vince flipped to a clean page of his yellow legal pad. “The detectives’ patience will be near an end. Are you sure you’re ready for their questions, Rayne?”
“As much as I can be. I never met Selena Baker or Dante.”
He shifted his attention to Grant. “You know what’s coming, my friend. Can you handle the interview without attitude? They’ll look hard at Rayne. You must be prepared for it and respond appropriately. If you can’t, I need to know now.”
Grant’s fingers tightened around Rayne’s. “I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her.”
The lawyer sighed. “I guess that will have to be good enough. If the interview goes sideways, I’ll intervene.” Vince rose and opened the door to the hall. “Come in, gentlemen. We’re ready for you.”
The detectives returned with Conner carrying an extra chair for Vince. After they sat at the table, Sanders opened his notepad again. “Let’s begin.”
For the next two hours, the detectives grilled Grant about his whereabouts for the past week, seeking every scrap of information to help them piece together a timeline. Unfortunately for them, Grant had little to offer in terms of current information.
“Look,” Grant snapped. “I already told you I haven’t talked to Selena or Dante in the past ten months.”
“You’ve also given us alibis for only half of the past week.” Conner leaned closer. “How can we verify your whereabouts when you won’t tell us where you were the first part of this week?”
“Not won’t. Can’t,” Vince corrected. “You understand the concept of client confidentiality, don’t you, gentlemen?”
Sanders snorted. “Come on. You work for a private security firm. How difficult is it to give us an exact accounting of your movements over the past seven days?”
“You want the truth?” Grant glared at the men. “Your security clearance isn’t high enough for me to disclose that information.”
“And yours is?”
“Deal with it.”
“Who did you pay off to get that clearance?”
“You’re wasting time here, gentlemen,” Vince reminded them. “My clients have cooperated with you to the extent they’re allowed. If you expect them to break that confidentiality, you’ll need to go much higher up the food chain. Now, I suggest you move along with your questions. Otherwise, I’ll be inclined to tell you that my clients are going about their duties if you’re not charging them.”
Sanders clenched his pen in a white-knuckled grip before turning his attention to Rayne.
A ball of ice formed in her stomach. The detectives would play hardball with her. Whether the approach was to rattle her or Grant remained to be seen. “What do you want to know?”
“Did you know Selena Baker or Dante Rivers?”
“No.”
They exchanged glances. “You never met them, even in passing?”
