Sidney Sheldon's Chasing Tomorrow (Tracy Whitney #2)(69)

Milton Buck placed an oval-shaped piece of plastic on the table. Not unlike one of those monitors people used to listen in on their sleeping babies, it was battery-powered and flashed red with a crackling sound when you pressed a button at the back.

Elizabeth smirked.

“Is that what happened, Ms. Kennedy?”

Silence.

“The device was found in your possession, along with the emerald choker. Can you suggest any other explanation for those items being found in your purse, Ms. Kennedy?”

Elizabeth yawned and looked away.

Milton Buck finally lost his temper, banging his fist down on the table.

“You seem not to understand what a phenomenal amount of trouble you are in, Ms. Kennedy. Tonight’s felony alone carries a jail sentence of over a decade. Did you know that?”

Silence.

“Then there’s entering the U.S. on a fake passport. Illegal use of credit cards. Identity theft. Impersonation of a federal agent. That’s twenty years, before we even begin to talk about the jobs you and your partner pulled in Chicago and Los Angeles and Atlanta.” Buck’s eyes bulged furiously. “You help me, Elizabeth, and I’ll help you. But keep this up and I will personally see to it that you rot in jail for the rest of your natural life. Do you understand?”

Elizabeth cast a critical eye over her French manicure. Milton Buck counted to ten.

“We know you were involved in at least three other high-profile robberies on U.S. soil. We also know you work with a partner.”

“You seem to know an awful lot, Agent Buck.”

They were the first words she had spoken. Milton Buck looked suitably surprised.

“How clever you are! I’m surprised you need to ask me any questions at all.”

Her tone was amused, mocking.

“I want the name of your partner, Ms. Kennedy.”

“What partner, Agent Buck?”

“Is it Jeff Stevens?”

Elizabeth threw back her head and burst into gales of laughter. Milton Buck felt his anger returning.

“Oh dear.” Elizabeth wiped away tears of mirth. “Is that the best you can do? I think I might re-exercise my right to remain silent. If it’s all the same to you.”

Milton Buck stood up, quivering with rage.

“Interview suspended.”

He stormed out.

OUT IN THE CORRIDOR, Milton took a few moments to compose himself.

This was not going according to plan. What should have been a night of celebration, the greatest triumph of his career so far, was turning into a fiasco.

Milton Buck blamed Jean Rizzo.

The irritating, sanctimonious little Canadian had been a thorn in Milton’s side ever since he showed up in L.A. this past summer, spewing out his preposterous theories about prostitutes and homicides and Tracy friggin’ Whitney. Now, after months of work tracking Elizabeth Kennedy, Rizzo had popped up like the proverbial bad penny, making a mockery of Elizabeth’s arrest and point-blank refusing to accept his lack of jurisdiction, or Milton Buck’s authority. Embarrassingly, the two men had argued about it in the cab, in front of the suspect, with Rizzo insisting he had a right to interview Elizabeth and refusing to relinquish custody unless Buck allowed him access.

“Don’t get comfortable,” Milton Buck snapped as Jean helped himself to a coffee from the machine at the FBI’s field office on the twenty-third floor of 26 Federal Plaza. “You can talk to her when I’m done. Not a minute before.”

“And how long will that be?”

“As long as it takes. Days probably. You may as well go home and get some sleep.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Jean Rizzo had been as good as his word. Milton Buck peered through the glass into the waiting room and saw Jean sharing a Domino’s pizza with a bunch of older agents. No one ordered pizza unless they were there for the duration.


“How’s it going, Buck? You don’t look too happy.”

The head of the field office, Special Agent Barry Soltan materialized at Milton’s side. Soltan was only a few years older than Milton Buck. Milton resented his superior rank intensely.

“She’s not talking, sir.”

“I see the fellow from Interpol’s still here.”

“Rizzo. Yes, sir. I’ve asked him to leave but—”

“Let’s get the two of you into my office.”

“There’s really no need for that, sir. Interpol has no jurisdiction here. At no time have we invited them to—”

“Agent Buck,” Barry Soltan interrupted. “You just told me your witness isn’t talking. Now, I’d like to get some sleep tonight, even if you wouldn’t. Let’s hear what Inspector Rizzo has to say.”

JEAN RIZZO HAD A lot to say, to Agent Buck’s great irritation. Special Agent Barry Soltan listened, then allowed him twenty minutes to try to break Elizabeth.

“If I understand it correctly, you both want the same thing. For the young lady to give up the name of her accomplice. Right?”

Agent Buck nodded grudgingly.

“In which case, I don’t see what harm it does to let Inspector Rizzo have a crack at her.”

Jean Rizzo said, “If she doesn’t talk, there’s every chance another young woman will end up being butchered by this maniac. He always kills within two days after Elizabeth completes a job.”