The Severed Thread (3 page)

As I approached the waiting area, I immediately spotted the two agents.  Their dark suits were a dead giveaway.  The agent on the left was tall; maybe six-two with a shock of russet toned brown hair and the appearance of someone in his late thirties.  I say appeared because I was fairly certain he was a Were, and that could mean he was really anywhere from sixty to one hundred thirty years old.  Weres aged slowly, like elves, and had an average lifespan in the low two hundreds.

The second agent was definitely
not
a Were.  I wasn’t really sure what he was, to be honest.  He was maybe five ten, with dirty blonde hair and a lanky, almost emaciated build.  It was still daylight so that eliminated vampire as an option.  I would have to wait until I was closer to know for sure. 

The tall agent turned towards me as I approached.  I was right, definitely a Were. “Ms. Lassiter?”

“Yes,” I replied, extending my hand towards him.  “I hope I did not keep you waiting too long, I really needed to splash some water on my face.”  Not that I really cared about keeping them waiting, but there was no reason to be rude.

“I’m Agent McCabe,” he introduced himself as he shook my hand. 

“And this is agent Smathon,” he said, indicating the other man.  I shook agent Smathon’s clammy, limp hand.  I had to fight the impulse to wipe my hand on my pants after the brief contact with his skin.  What
was
he, anyway?  There was a musky scent in the air that was hanging over him like a cloak.

“I would say it was nice to meet you,” I said, shrugging.  “But under the circumstances….”

“We just want to ask you a few questions about what happened this morning,” McCabe assured me.   “Would you be willing to come down to our office to make your statement?”

“Ms. Lassiter will be happy to come to your office later today after she has had some rest,” a voice from behind me announced.  I turned to see my father’s attorney, Joshua Levy standing a few feet away.  “She has had a harrowing morning.”

“Every minute wasted getting her statement makes finding the killer more difficult,” Agent McCabe replied in frustration.  “We really need to speak with her as soon as possible.”

“The
Senator,
” Joshua intoned, “sent me to make sure his daughter’s interests were protected, and that is what I intend to do.”  I saw Agent McCabe stiffen at the implication that a senator’s daughter should get preferential treatment in a murder investigation.  I sometimes wondered if my father realized that he needed a more tactful lawyer.  Joshua Levy was anything but subtle.  This was probably an asset in some scenarios but not so much when dealing with criminal investigators.

“Sending her off to the local Interspecies Bureau office in clothes still covered in her brother’s blood while the media swarms to take photos is not protecting her interests,” he said.  “As we speak the local police are putting up a barricade just to keep the reporters out of the hospital.”

Ugh
, the media.  I had not even considered the media frenzy my brother’s brutal murder was probably causing.  I was glad the local police were keeping them at bay for the moment.

I could see that Joshua was not winning any points for me with the agents from the determined glint in Agent McCabe’s eyes and the barely concealed sneer on Agent Smathon’s face.  But to give him credit, he did have a good point.  I was going to look like a suspect if I was taken down to the Bureau offices without even being allowed to change out of my bloody clothes.  Joshua’s demeanor was the problem, not his argument.  He was an expensive attorney, in an expensive suite with an attitude of entitlement.  None of which sat well with law enforcement.

“Just because she is some politician’s daughter doesn’t mean she can avoid being questioned,” Agent Smathon hissed nasally.  Oh, that cinched it, he was a snake shifter.  And I could see that he was about to get more belligerent about my cooperation.  Snakes were not known for patience or tolerance.  It was time to take the reins of the situation before it got ugly.

“Hold up everyone,” I said, raising my hands palms out.  “No one wants my brother’s killer brought to justice more than me.  I’m more than happy to come down and offer a statement to the bureau.”

“Ms. Lasssiter,” Joshua started to protest, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

“Hold on Joshua,” I said with a quelling look.  I shifted my gaze back to the agents.  “Mr. Levy has a point about me being questioned without even changing my clothes.  I still have my brothers dried blood lodged under my fingernails.”

Everyone’s scrutiny was suddenly fixated on my hands.  I splayed my fingers for them so they can see the truth of my statement.  I looked too, and what I saw there nearly brought me to tears.  Again.  I swallowed back my grief with difficulty.

“I would like to suggest,” I said, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice, “that I meet you at your office in less than two hours to give my statement.  That will allow me more than enough time to get home, shower, and change – unless of course I’m a suspect.”  I let that hang in the air a moment while looking inquiringly at the agents.

Agent Smathon and McCabe stared at each other for a moment in silent communication.  The two had obviously had been working together for a long time.  “You are not
currently
a suspect,” Agent Smathon conceded grudgingly.

“Good.  Then are we agreed that I’ll meet you at your office in the next two hours?”

I got a single nod from McCabe. 

“Alright,” I told them before turning towards Joshua.  “You want to walk me out?”  I did not wait for his answer.  Instead I started towards the elevator, assuming he would follow.  He finally caught up with me as I was reaching out to press the ‘Down’ button.

“Miss Lassiter, I really wish you had let me handle the agents.” 
Yeah, because you were doing such a great job
.  “Your father entrusted me to protect your best interests.”  I decided to ignore his comments.  Instead I went on the offensive, despite knowing that once I got started, it would be hard to stop.

“Where is the
Senator
anyway?” I asked, mimicking Joshua’s earlier emphasis on my father’s title, except I was not going for respectful.

“He asked me to come here, and instructed Caleb to take your mother and aunt home.”  That was evasion if I ever heard it.

“Well that tells me where Celeb, my mother, Aunt Gracie and you are,” I replied, ticking the names off on my fingers.  “It doesn’t really tell me where
he
is though, does it?” I was looking at him waiting for another cagey response when the elevator doors opened.  I had to raise my arms to cover my eyes as several flashes went off simultaneously.   A few clever reporters and photographers must have slipped past the police and hospital security.

“Ms. Lassiter, do you know who would want to kill your brother?” 

“Was it you that called 911?” 

“Can we assume that is Jason’s blood on your clothes?”  The frenzied questions were shouted out while the reporters circled me in the corridor like vultures around carrion.   I was really looking forward to the end of this day; I was not sure how much more I could take.

“Why is your attorney present?  Are you a suspect Ms. Lassiter?”  It was that last question that finally galvanized Joshua into action.  It was about time he earned the exorbitant fee I was certain he was charging us. 

“Ms. Lassiter is
not
a suspect,” he stepped forward and informed them firmly.  “She is cooperating fully with the Interspecies Bureau in their investigation of the tragic murder of her brother.  This has been a harrowing day for the Lassiter family, and Ms. Lassiter in particular.  Please respect her grief.”  With that he pushed me past the reporters and onto the elevator.  Well, if that wasn’t an impressive impromptu press conference, I don’t know what was.

The reporters would have followed us if Agents McCabe and Smathon hadn’t picked that moment to show up.  They blocked off the elevator’s doorway, effectively preventing anyone else from entering.

“
Thank you,
” I sent silently to Agent McCabe,
“I promise I will hurry.”
  I saw him tense and look over his shoulder at me.  The expression on his face contained equal parts surprise and mild censure.  It was considered bad form to make a mental connection like that without asking first.  Not to mention that most with the ability wouldn’t have been able to do so without the recipient explicitly allowing it.  And Agent McCabe had definitely not allowed it.  Instead I had slipped right through his shields without even trying.  I needed to start doing a better job of controlling my impulsive reactions.  My gratitude at not being packed like a sardine in the elevator with all those rabid reporters had made me indiscreet.  The last glimpse I had through the closing elevator doors was his nod.

Chapter 3

We made good time getting home, despite the media in the hospital parking lot and those still camped out in front of my house.  Joshua drove.  My car was still in my garage, since I had ridden in the ambulance to the hospital earlier – an experience that would haunt me for the rest of my days.

Joshua was currently on his mobile, conferring with his office while sitting at my kitchen island.  Out front in the driveway, crime scene investigators were still going over the place with a fine toothed comb.  I could only be thankful that they were not viewing the interior of the house as part of the crime scene, or I wouldn’t have been allowed in to shower and change.  Instead, I would have had to go to the Interspecies Bureau offices un-showered and in bloody clothes, despite Joshua’s earlier efforts on my behalf.

A dour faced female officer had asked me to carefully place my clothes in the large plastic bag she handed to me.  Obviously the clothes were part of the evidence and needed to be turned over for examination.  Once upstairs in the privacy of my bathroom I dutifully stripped and began placing my clothes in the bag.  Did they want my underwear too?  Ever the rule follower, I started to include them, when the thought of some geeky lab tech dissecting my blue panties halted my hand at the opening of the bag.  I couldn’t do it.  Since they were the only thing I was wearing that had somehow miraculously remained un-bloodied, they were not going to provide any useful information since.  They went to the hamper instead.    The same could not be said for my bra, which I did put in the bag.  For some unfathomable reason, the image of the lab tech with my bra was not quite so unsettling.

I tried to be as quick as possible getting showered and changed, so we ended up arriving at the Bureau’s offices downtown within my two hour allotment.  Joshua insisted on accompanying me even though I assured him it was unnecessary.  I had nothing to hide and was secretly more than a little worried that he might be a hindrance, after his dismal performance earlier with the agents. 

There were news vans at the Bureau offices too, but since this was a government building and we were expected, we were able to park in secured visitor parking.  I was all for anything that prevented my being bombarded with horrible questions like those directed at me at the hospital. 

As Joshua and I approached the reception desk, I made a promise to myself to hire my own attorney.  It was likely that I would need further legal assistance as the investigation progressed, and I really wanted someone working for me that was unconditionally on ‘Team Abigail’.   I was not entirely confident that Joshua was clear about what was best for me versus what was best for Senator Lassiter and Lassiter Enterprise Holdings.  My friend Corbin was at the top of my list of candidates.  He was a defense attorney with a good track record and more importantly, he would work for me, not my father. 

“Joshua Levy and Abigail Lassiter, to see agents McCabe and Smathon,” Joshua told the security guard at the front desk.

“Please sign in here.  Your attorney too,” he said, handing me a register.  “You will also need to wear visitor badges.”  He produced two badges from behind the counter, one of which I silently passed to Joshua. 

“Agent Johnson will escort you up.”  The security guard informed us after we signed the register and secured our badges.

 I turned to view Agent Johnson.  I would guess he was somewhere close to seven feet tall.  At five eight, I was on the taller side for a woman, so most people did not register as excessively tall to me.  But Agent Johnson?  He appeared to me a veritable colossus of a man, especially when one took in his combined height and bulk.

He indicated we should follow him with a wave of his massive hand.  He had to duck to clear the elevator doorway and turned out to be a blessedly silent companion on the ride.  Not a smile, grunt or word crossed his lips.

The ride up to the 7
^th
floor was brief, and we were greeted by Agent Smathon as we stepped off the elevator.  Well, Agent Johnson was greeted – we were barely acknowledged.

“Thanks Bob,” he said to Agent Johnson, who stayed in the elevator as we got off.  He offered only a brief inclination of his head before the doors closed and he was gone.

“Follow me,” was the terse command we got from Agent Smathon who led us down the hall to the third office on the right.  Correction, make that ‘Interrogation Room 3’ if the sign on the door was accurate. 

“Wait a minute,” I sputtered, stopping cold at the doorway.  “Why are we going into an interrogation room if I’m not a suspect?  I thought I was just here to answer a few questions.”

“Standard procedure,” was Agent Smathon’s reply. 

“Is there a problem?” Agent McCabe asked from where he stood just inside the room.

“My client was just asking a very good question,” Joshua said.  “Why are we being taken to an interrogation room to make a statement if she is not a suspect?”

“You have already made us wait.  I suggest you start cooperating before you cross the line into obstruction of justice,” Smathon threatened, fairly bristling in anger that we were questioning their methods.

“What my partner means,” interjected Agent McCabe trying to tone down Smathon’s words, “is that it would be helpful to have your statement recorded so that we don’t miss anything important.  We have OsmoRecorders in Interrogation Rooms 3 and 6.  They make less paperwork for us later.”  I nearly groaned out loud.  If they wanted to question me with an OsmoRecorder present, my little faux pas in the elevator earlier must have raised a few eyebrows.