Chapter Seven (portion)
When I approach the entrance, a man with a tablet computer approaches my car. “Your name, please? And why are you visiting the FBI today?”
They’re holding Pinkie at FBI headquarters? He doesn’t belong at a place like this. “Yes, hello. I’m Gillian Davis, here to visit with Pinkie—I mean Patrick Cunningham.”
He fingers through pages on his screen. “Your purpose for seeing Mr. Cunningham?”
I shift in the driver’s seat. “I manage a business he owns. I need to talk to him about work—I mean what to do while he’s away.”
“You’re not listed.” The arm holding the computer relaxes to his side.
“Officer Jeff Reeves called ahead. He’s with Dallas police.”
“I’ll make a quick call.” He walks away with a phone to his ear. In a few seconds, the gate opens, and he waves me through.
I let out the lungful of air I’ve been holding and drive. Hurdle one crossed. Three flags line the entrance like they’re waving me away, or maybe they’re inviting me in. Either way, I march through the heavy glass doors, step through the metal detector, follow the signs through the cold marble and stainless steel lobby to the visitor area, and wait.
A lawyer-like young woman in a gray suit taps on her laptop across the otherwise empty room. I feel underdressed. Footsteps echo toward us, and my heart beats as fast as her fingers type. It’s a man in a dark blue suit, his eyes on me.
“Ms. Davis? I’m Agent Redman.” His voice is gentler than I expected. “Come with me.”
While we walk, the million questions I have for Pinkie parade through my head.
What happened? Who would do this to you? When will they let you out? What do I do at work tomorrow? Is your lawyer one of those hotshots who only represent innocent people? Do you have a lawyer?
He opens the door, revealing Pinkie sitting on the edge of a chair in a small room. Dark circles have bloomed like he didn’t sleep last night.
“Gillian, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He motions to the chair on the other side of the table. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a glass of wine?”
A laugh overpowers my questions. “You can still keep your sense of humor. How are you?”
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