Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(71)

With an effort, she kept her hands at her sides and hoped she looked relaxed. Hoped.

Hyde’s gaze weighed her. “We have questions that we need answered. Those victims who were dodging us for weeks, now their asses have finally been dragged home by their parents.”

Because their parents thought they were safe now. Was anyone ever really safe?

“Until I’m satisfied with the resolution of the serial kidnapping case, it stays open.”

Sam forced herself to nod. “Of course.”

“And I need you.” His eyes glittered at her. “I still want you to watch the interrogation with Max.”

She was already shaking her head.

His hand rose. “Hear me out.”

Her head stopped shaking.

“I want you to watch him, and let me know if you think he’s lying.”

“Sir, I don’t—”

“You’re the one who knows him.” Hyde crossed his arms. “Officially, I can’t let you to go into that viewing room…”

But unofficially, he wanted her to spy on the session and report back to him. “I just told you he was my lover.” Her gaze didn’t waver from his, and she kept her spine straight.

“And if Ridgeway doesn’t have anything to hide, it doesn’t matter. There’s a lot of money at stake here, Kennedy, and even good people can get tempted by the promise of millions.”

But Max didn’t care about Frank’s money. Max had built his own way in the world.

“If he’s hiding something,” Hyde continued, “then wouldn’t you want to know anyway?”

Damn him. “Max isn’t hiding anything.” She’d finally found someone she could trust, and she’d be damned if she violated his trust now. Even for the job.

“We’ll see,” Hyde said.

Sam turned away.

“I want you to watch that interrogation,” he said again with steel beneath his words. “Do your job, Kennedy.”

Fine, but she’d do it her way.

? ? ?

“Are we going to get started any time soon?” Max flicked a glance at the black watch that circled his wrist. “I’ve got contractors waiting on me.”

“We won’t keep you too long, Mr. Ridgeway,” Luke Dante murmured as he pulled out his chair. He dropped a fat stack of folders onto the table. “We just have a few questions.”

Max’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve already asked me a shitload of questions.”

“And I’m going to ask some more.” A sharp smile from his least favorite FBI agent.

“Where’s Samantha?” His gaze tracked to the mirror behind him. Was Samantha in there, watching him? He’d left her place before dawn so he didn’t know if she was even at the Bureau yet.

“I’m certain that Agent Kennedy is on the premises.” Luke flipped open a folder while the other agent, Kim Daniels, leaned near the back wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “Now, if you’ll be so good as to answer my questions?”

He threw his hands up. “Go right ahead.”

“And you don’t want a lawyer?” Daniels pressed.

“Don’t need one.” Because he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. Not this time.


Quinlan Malone looked like death. Sam stared through the two-way mirror, her eyes on the man as he sat hunched at the small table in Interrogation Room One.

“Mr. Malone,” came Monica Davenport’s smooth voice, “are you certain you don’t want a lawyer present?”

“I’m the victim.” He rocked forward a bit in his chair. His bandaged hand rested on the top of the table, a silent reminder of his hell. “Not a damn criminal. I don’t need a lawyer in here with me.”

“Right.” Monica opened one of her files.

Sam adjusted the volume control. The interrogations were being video-recorded—they always were at the FBI office—but she didn’t want to watch from the control room. She wanted to watch here, where she could see every move and catch every flicker of expression instantly.

“Please tell me about the night of your abduction,” Monica said.

Quinlan drew in a shuddering breath. “I-I was at The Core. My brother was there—”

“Max Ridgeway?”

“Yeah, yeah, he was there… with his new girl.” Quinlan’s lips twisted. “That agent.”

“You’re referring to Samantha Kennedy?”

“I’m referring to the redhead with the sexy smile.” A shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t get her name then.”

Sam stared at him. Both of his hands were flat on the table now, and the bandages appeared a stark white.

Monica didn’t bat so much as an eyelash. “I’d like a list of the people you talked to at that bar.”

Another shrug. “After my brother left, I hooked up with—with—a woman.” Quinlan’s brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “Blond hair, I think. And she was… she had on a black dress.” His breath huffed out. “I know I met a girl but I can’t remember her, not really.”

“What is the first thing you remember after being at The Core?”

His head rose. For a moment, his gaze flickered toward the mirror, then back to Monica. He lifted his left hand. “Some * cutting off my finger.”