Page 85 of The Dis-Graced
“Fine, go—but don’t say anything! Not a damn word! Not until we figure out what’s going on,” Amanda says.
“Can someone clue me in on what’s going on,” I say.
“Ma’am, we’re taking you in to answer questions surrounding the theft of intellectual property belonging to Drake Dallanger.”
“No!”
“Gracey, go with the officers,” Amanda says. “But don’t say anything,”
Chapter 27
Grace
Hours pass, filled with relentless questions. I’m exhausted but maintaining my silence just as Amanda had instructed me to.
When they had first accused me of stealing Dallanger tech, I had wondered if it were the phone I had taken with me, but they haven’t mentioned a phone. In fact, they are saying a whole lot without saying much at all.
I still can’t believe they’ve taken Lucas in. He’s Drake’s best friends, and would never steal from him. If I had to guess, I would say the person behind all this is Irene.
I’ve even wondered if maybe Devon was responsible. After all, he’s coming back after years in a rehabilitation facility. Maybe he stole something that he plans on selling.
The cops don’t care that I’m swearing up and down that I’m innocent. There’s no way I’ve stolen any intellectual property from Drake. It’s just not possible.
The main detective that’s been questioning me since I’ve been in this tiny, uncomfortable room goes by the name of Jones, and he’s an asshole with a capital A-S-S. He refuses to be specific, asking things like, “Why are you in New York City? and “Who have you been working with?” and “Tell me more about this friend of yours. Stephanie, is it?” Of course, he brings up Brigger, but I refuse to show any emotion when he does.”
I remember to remain silent, every so often saying that I’m waiting for my lawyer, and I’ve signed a nondisclosure agreement that can only be broken under specific circumstances. I can’t even acknowledge that I know Drake, even though they’ve all but told me they know I’m working with him.
I wonder why it’s taking so long for Amanda to get here. Maybe she’s arranging for a sitter. Or perhaps she’s speaking with Drake. Whatever the reason for her absence, I’m sure it will all get cleared up when she arrives.
“Would you like me to have a public defender sent in?” Jones asks.
“No, Amanda Anders, or someone from her firm, will be repressing me.”
“Funny you should say that because she came for your brother Luke hours ago. He wasn’t even here a full thirty minutes.”
I blink, wondering if they’re lying to me. I mean, surely Luke wouldn’t leave me in jail.
Or maybe he would. Over the years, he’s let you struggle to get where you are. Or where you were.
“I’m leaving,” I finally say, rising from my chair and heading for the door.
“Okay, that’s fine,” Jones calls out. “Alistair Whent is due in for questioning soon, so ya might want to stick around, but it’s your call.”
My hand grips the doorknob, but I make no move to open it. Alistair Whent is a big name, from a big deal kind of family. They’re well known in the travel industry, boasting high-end resorts and luxury jets for getting around. I’ve never had cause to know him, and I doubt he cares much about me.
“What does Alistair Whent have to do with me being taken in for questioning?”
“Oh, something about someone trying to sell him intellectual property. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would ya?”
Nothing makes sense, initially, and then I think of ALAN. He’s probably the most coveted and highly-sought-after intellectual property on the planet right now and would certainly fetch a pretty penny on the black market. Or on any market.
I feel myself go numb, and for a brief moment, I’m worried I’ll collapse. These are big-deal moneymen, people who have access to more funding than I could ever dream of having. If I’m being set up again, for a second time, I don’t know how I could possibly fight off the charges if I’m up against the world’s elite.
In other words, I’m screwed.
The door opens and in walks Devon Dallanger.
What is he doing here?
