The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(23)

Yeah, that’s what they tell all the prime suspects on TV right before they catch them in the lie that seals the case.

“Oh good. Glad that’s on tape.” It’s my best attempt at levity.

His lips quirk up, and it does funny things to my stomach. I nearly toss my cookies with the added jolt. I have got to get a handle on myself.

“All right. Michael-Grace Martin, can you confirm for the record that you have not told anyone of our previous conversation?”

It’s weird to hear my whole name come out of his mouth. It’s even weirder that it doesn’t sound weird. I hate my name; from him it sounds normal, like he says it every day. The familiarity eases my tension, and I resign myself to being interrogated—even if kindly. He is good at his job.

I lean toward the recorder and say, “No,” in a clear voice.

“The recorder can hear you fine from the couch.”

“Oh. Okay. Then, no. I didn’t have a chance to tell anyone I met you. I mean, not that I had a reason to . . .” I’m flustered, so I scrunch up my face. “No.” There. Pretend like it is an office meeting. Clear, concise answers. It’s good practice for me.

“Can you tell me where you were Saturday night?”

I think. Not good. I’m that person on the TV show—a lame alibi that can’t be proven. “At home, in bed.”

“And can anyone verify that?” Cue color blooming under his collar, but he remains the passive professional.

“I was sleeping alone.” Thankyouverymuch. “So unless you can interview my dog, you’re out of luck—oh!” I snap my fingers. “Wait! Trog! He went out around eleven, and my neighbor yelled at me to get him a bark collar. So, yes! My neighbor can confirm that I was home.” Victory.

He takes down her name and address. “And your roommate?” I may be imagining it, but Detective Kildaire’s voice becomes steelier when he mentions Ryan.

“He and my friend Lawrence were at a video-gaming tournament. They played all night.”

He nods, makes a note, and sits forward. “Have you noticed anything unusual around your office? People doing something they shouldn’t?”

My mind goes directly to Kyle and Simon. I swallow hard. “I—uh—” I stall for time, trying to figure out a way to tell Matteo without telling him what I suspect. Is it cool to make your coworkers major suspects in a vigilante drug-busting case before you know for sure they’re behind it? “Unusual like what?” Rope, duct tape, black hoodies, and bruises? I’m so wound up; my head is about to start spinning around like R2-D2.

Matteo runs his hands through his hair. “I’m not sure what we’re looking for exactly. I brought you in because we’re worried about your office. That note that I told you about at the first crime scene? Someone leaked its contents to the drug ring.”

“You can’t be serious. So the drug rings are stupid enough to think that someone from Genius is running around and tying them up? They’re smarter than that, surely?” I bite my lip, mind churning through what he said. One word stands out to me. “Did you say this was leaked?”

“Yes, we’re still trying to figure out what happened.”

What he’s not saying is that a leak means a cop told the drug dealers what is on that note, whether intentionally or by accident. One of Matteo’s own is possibly a double agent, and I watched enough Castle to know that rarely works out well.

“And now you think they’re going to come after Genius Comics? Just because of some note?”

Matteo doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches for a tablet on his side table and opens it while I watch with eyebrows raised. He flicks through video files, then sets it on the table in front of me.

“We’ve been following a few different leads. Someone stopped a purse-snatcher Friday night, though we can’t confirm it was the same person. Only interesting because it fits your theory of a social-justice vigilante. However, Saturday night there was another bust. This time it was some middle-ups. Our superhero tracked them to the warehouse district, and a security camera caught some footage.”

A grainy black-and-white video plays on the tablet, and I squint. “What am I looking for?”

“Just watch.”

A few figures come into frame, and I scan the screen intently. It’s too far away to make out any identifying features. I’d be hard-pressed to even determine gender and height, much less identify someone in a lineup. Is someone from Genius recognizable in this video?

“I still don’t see—” My breath catches in my throat. Something flashes across the camera. Something that looks suspiciously close to a figure flying through the air.

Matteo’s mouth presses into a line when I glance up. The rest of the video is useless. The figures on the street move out of frame, and the flash doesn’t reappear. I reach forward, swipe my fingers left to run the video back to the flash of dark movement I saw. I stare at the screen in shock, and the last vestiges of my resistance crumble like the shield around the USS Enterprise in every mid-episode fight sequence. “That looks like a person wearing a cape, flying through the air.”

Matteo skips the “I told you so.” “The problem is, now both drug rings are looking for this person, and they think they’re connected to Genius Comics. We haven’t seen a feud like this brewing since the massive drug busts in the eighties. It isn’t a good thing for an untrained civilian to be involved in.”