“They can arrest me,” I tell her, before turning my gaze to Jacobsen. “But they won’t be able to holdme.”
The smug agent narrows his eyes, his brow furrowing. “You sure about that, son?”
I smile thinly. “Very sure. But you’re welcome to f*****g try.”
A FEW HOURS LATER—FBI INTERROGATION ROOM
Agent Jacobsen’s dark eyes are shrewd as he gives me the once-over. Not for the first time, either.He’s been trying to pick me apart since he first stepped through the door.
He matches the bleak interrogation room perfectly. Gray pallor to his skin, salt-and-pepper in his hair.Gray tie. Gray shirt. Not a speck of color to be found.
I can see my own reflection in the two-way mirror just behind him. I make a point of glancing at itevery few seconds.
There’s probably a handful of observers on the ot
