Actual Stop (Agent O’Connor #1)(5)

“May we come in?” I slid my commission book back into my jacket pocket and gave Meaghan a reassuring glance.

He stepped back, and we entered. The man’s name and garb and the fact that he didn’t refute my allusion to his evening prayer confirmed what I’d suspected. Akbari was Muslim. Crap.

Some Muslim men simply don’t want to deal with women. Several I’ve encountered have flatly refused to acknowledge my presence, and Akbari’s guarded expression indicated that might be the case here. I wished I had a male with me. This would probably go a lot better if I had.

The smell of spiced lamb hung heavy in the air. I cringed. Had we interrupted the man’s dinner? The darkened kitchen behind him and the equally dim dining room to the left of it led me to think not. At least I hadn’t earned any strikes there.

“Thank you.” I walked into the apartment, giving Meaghan plenty of room to shut the door behind me, and gestured toward the empty dining-room table. “Would you like to sit here?”

Akbari merely turned away without a word.

Meaghan’s long look said she was seriously contemplating kicking my ass later for dragging her out on this call. I shrugged one shoulder in apology and followed Akbari to the table.

“Before we start, Mr. Akbari, is anyone else in the house with you tonight?” The living room, visible from our vantage point in the foyer, was obviously empty, and I could see most of the bathroom through the open door at the end of the hall. That left the bedroom unaccounted for. I didn’t detect any other signs of life.

“No.” He flipped a switch to turn on a chandelier over the table and took a seat.

“So, you’re here alone?” I wanted to be absolutely clear. You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’d had someone wander out of a back room in the middle of an interview and then listened to the interviewee claim they hadn’t understood exactly what I’d meant.

“Yes. It is just me.” A pause. “And now you.”

Akbari’s intense stare was giving me the creeps, as if I needed yet another reason to hurry the hell up and complete this interview. I laid the packet full of papers I’d brought on the dining-room table and helped myself to a chair. The one I chose allowed me to face the bedroom, and I turned it slightly so I had a partial view of the front door out of the corner of my eye, if anyone decided to join us.

Meaghan hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the seat next to me and arranging her chair in a similar fashion. She opened her notebook to a blank page and retrieved a pen from her pocket, ready to record the pertinent facts. She was taking notes so I could focus all my attention on the subject of my interview.

“Mr. Akbari, do you know why we’re here?”

Akbari shook his head, but recognition flickered behind his eyes.

I nodded once, as if I accepted his answer, and put my hands on top of the papers I’d brought. His gaze was drawn to them, and now his expression was equal parts curiosity and caution. Perfect.

“I have some questions. As I said, we’ll try not to take too much of your time.”

Akbari remained mute.

Okay. He was going to make me work for it. I could do that. If he thought the silent treatment would intimidate me, he was clearly misinformed about the tenacity of American women. And he’d really misjudged me. I saw his reticence as a challenge and became that much more determined to break him.

I managed to restrain a smile. Barely. “Let’s get the easy stuff out of the way,” I suggested casually. “Do you have any identification?”

“Why?”

Interesting. He was reluctant to provide me with ID. Why?

Now I did smile. “I just want to make sure I’m talking to the right guy. Plus, it’ll allow my partner here to get the necessary information, so you and I can keep talking. It makes this whole process go faster.”

Akbari swallowed once and took a deep breath. He’d tensed, and I ensured that my own body language conveyed complete ease.

Akbari stood and retrieved a worn leather wallet from a nearby credenza. Slowly he fished out a driver’s license, his hands shaking almost imperceptibly. If I hadn’t specifically been looking, I’d have missed it.

I took the license and passed it to Meaghan without even turning my head. Akbari resumed his seat and fiddled absently with the wallet, which he’d placed on the table in front of him.

“How long have you lived here, Mr. Akbari?”

“Two years.”

“And where did you live before this?”

“Anaheim, California.”

“Did you like California?”

“Yes. It was very nice.”

I inhaled deeply and adjusted myself in my chair, leaning forward and resting my weight on my forearms. I held his gaze until he dropped his eyes.

“Mr. Akbari, before we go any further I should probably explain something to you. Just because I ask you a question doesn’t necessarily mean I’m looking for an answer.”

Akbari appeared confused. His brow pulled down as he looked at me. “I don’t understand.”

“People don’t tell the truth, Mr. Akbari. Unfortunate, I know, but those are the times we live in. Me? I like to know where I stand with people, whether I can trust anything they tell me. Many of the questions I’m going to ask you, I already know the answers to. I ask them anyway to see whether you’re going to be straight with me.”