Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Great,” I praised. “Did your guy get here yet?”
“Yep, he’s here. He’s in the interrogation room with Aiden. I suppose you want to watch?”
Did I ever. “Yep.” I didn't lie and say that Aiden had said it was okay. If Saber assumed, then that was on him.
“Come on this way.” He opened a divider, and I walked behind the reception desk. “To the left,” he said, pointing to a door he opened with a keypad. I followed him down a long hallway and then turned left into a small room. Saber flipped on the light. The room was vacant, and a one-way mirror looked into a rather stark-appearing interrogation room with dark walls and no windows. The lake was on the other side of the building, so I wasn't surprised.
Aiden sat with his back to me, and a profusely sweating man sat across from him.
“Thanks, Saber,” I said.
“Sure thing. I think there’s coffee in the kitchen if you want any.” With that, Saber turned and loped away, but I didn’t want to miss anything. Even though coffee sounded really good.
Aiden looked relaxed, at least from behind, and the man in front of him appeared to be maybe around six feet tall with short, gray hair, a goatee a few shades darker, and blue eyes behind rimmed eyeglasses. Aiden clicked the button on the table, and twin cameras lit up on either side of the room.
Anticipation chilled my veins. I hadn’t missed anything. They’d just started.
“State your name for the record,” Aiden said, his tone rather congenial for him.
“Um...um...my name is Milton Sandpaper,” the guy said, wiping his brow. He had to be in his mid-fifties.
Aiden reached for a pad of paper and a pen. “Where do you work?”
“Um... I work at the JAG Legal Center and School in Charlottesville, Virginia. Why am I here?” It seemed like he’d tried to drum up some outrage, but he was failing miserably.
“I think you know why you're here,” Aiden said, kicking back. “How about you tell me everything I want to know, and I’ll let you go without arresting you?”
Milton fidgeted. “Um, I really don’t have any idea why I'm here.”
“Alrighty, we’ll play it that way, then.” Aiden pulled a file folder to his side and flipped it open. “About a month ago, you conducted some pretty in-depth research into a case involving Nick Basanelli as a JAG officer regarding the theft of missiles. Do you remember that?”
“Vaguely.” Milton’s gaze darted away and then back. “I do a lot of research, man. That’s my job.”
Aiden’s head lifted, and he must’ve given Milton his badass and slightly pissed expression because Milton paled. “Not to this degree. I’ve obtained a warrant for your email and cell phone records, and I spent the day going through those. You call several numbers a lot, including one Mistress Dominica.”
Milton turned beet-red. “That...well, that’s none of your business,” he sputtered.
“Probably not, but I did find it interesting. Do you meet up once in a while, or does she just spank you metaphorically over the phone?”
Milton coughed. “That’s, ah, that’s irrelevant.”
Aiden waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, Milton. Lots of folks like to be spanked. In fact, my adorable and sneaky girlfriend keeps putting herself in situations where she’s looking to find herself tossed over my knee.” He glanced over his shoulder very quickly, his eyes a blazing blue.
My butt hitched. Or tingled. Or maybe both. But the damage was done, and here I was. Perhaps I should’ve asked to sit in on the interview. Hopefully, I didn’t get Saber in trouble. Probably not. Aiden knew me.
He turned back to Milton. “There were several other often-repeated numbers in your records. One belonging to your brother, one for some friends you apparently golf with once in a while, and then there was an unknown number I couldn’t track, which means it’s a burner. You know what, Milton?”
“What?” Milton stuttered.
“I’d really like to know who was on the other end of that burner phone.”
Milton crossed his arms, his hands visibly shaking. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I could hear the change in Aiden’s voice, so he must have smiled, and when he smiled and used a loaded tone, he could be downright terrifying. Given how Milton shrank back in his chair, I’d say he agreed with that assessment.
“Now,” Aiden said calmly, “I can go through the effort of tracing the burner phone, finding where it was purchased, looking for all CCTV in the area, and discovering who this person is, or you can help me, save me the trouble, and then I won’t come after you with everything I have. What do you think you should do right now, Milton?”
Milton paled and looked around again. “Should I get a lawyer?”
“That is entirely up to you. Right now, you’re not under arrest. If you want a lawyer, you can get one, but then all offers to help you are off the table. You want to be on the opposite side of this from me, you’ve got it. I'm more than happy to take you down. But if you want to help me, wouldn’t you rather have me for a friend than an enemy?”