Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN ON THE NEWS
Mara was arrested at 3:12 in the afternoon.
Dominic could have stopped it.
She knew that.
There were enough armed men on the property to make the police reconsider every career choice they had ever made.
But Mara grabbed Dominic’s hand before he could give an order.
“No.”
His eyes burned.
“They’re framing you.”
“Then let them show their hand.”
“Mara—”
“If you fight them, Bianca wins.”
The police cuffed her.
The humiliation was deliberate.
Cameras had somehow reached the road outside before the warrant had.
By sunset, every station showed the same footage.
PREGNANT FORMER MAID ARRESTED IN REED SHOOTING INVESTIGATION.
Mara sat in an interrogation room for two hours.
No food.
No water.
No lawyer.
She said nothing.
Finally a detective entered.
Older man. Gray mustache. Cheap tie.
“Ms. Whitfield.”
She stared at the wall.
“You understand your situation?”
“I understand I asked for a lawyer.”
“Your lawyer is coming.”
“Then we can talk when he gets here.”
The detective sat.
“You’ve had a rough life.”
Mara looked at him.
“So this is the friendly part?”
“I’m trying to help.”
“No, you’re trying to make me speak without counsel.”
He smiled.
“You’re smarter than Senator Thorne said.”
There.
Mara’s pulse jumped.
He realized his mistake a second too late.
“Senator Thorne?” she asked.
“I misspoke.”
“No, you didn’t.”
The door opened.
Dominic walked in.
Not his lawyer.
Dominic.
The detective stood.
“How the hell did you get in here?”
Dominic ignored him and looked at Mara’s wrists.
“You hurt?”
“No.”
“Good.”
The detective pointed at the door.
“You need to leave.”
Dominic smiled.
“Detective Lawson, you have twelve thousand dollars in gambling debt, a daughter at Northwestern and a vacation condo you somehow purchased on a city salary.”
The detective froze.
Mara stared at Dominic.
Dominic continued.
“So before you tell me where I’m allowed to stand, decide whether you want the Internal Affairs version of your life discussed in this room.”
Lawson left.
Mara shook her head.
“That was incredibly illegal-sounding.”
“It was publicly available information.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
She almost smiled.
Then a woman entered carrying a briefcase.
“Rachel Kim. Attorney.”
Dominic nodded toward Mara.
“She’s your client.”
Rachel sat down.
“The warrant is garbage. They claim a weapon used in the attack on Preston Reed was found in Ms. Whitfield’s room at the Thorne house.”
Mara stared.
“My room was cleared out this morning.”
“Exactly.”
Dominic’s jaw flexed.
Rachel continued.
“The firearm was supposedly found at four p.m.”
Mara looked at Dominic.
“We have Marco on camera removing my things before noon.”
“Yes.”
Rachel smiled thinly.
“And the Thorne property has security logs.”
For the first time that day, Mara felt hope.
It lasted twelve minutes.
Then Rachel’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Dominic leaned forward.
Rachel slowly lowered the phone.
“The security server at the Thorne estate burned.”
Mara stared.
“Burned?”
“Electrical fire.”
Dominic laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Convenient.”
Rachel looked at him.
“There’s more. The officer who signed the evidence report is missing.”
Silence.
Mara whispered, “They’re erasing everything.”
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the message.
Then at Mara.
“Not everything.”
“What?”
“Agent Price is on video.”
He turned the phone.
An elderly man appeared on-screen from a dim room somewhere in Arizona.
He looked directly into the camera.
“My name is Samuel Price. I was Eleanor Whitfield’s FBI handler.”
Mara gripped the edge of the table.
Price continued.
“Eleanor was not investigating Senator Thorne alone.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Who else?”
Price looked uneasy.
“The Vale organization.”
May you like
Mara slowly turned toward Dominic.
And suddenly the safest man in the room looked like the biggest threat.
