His emotions shut down except for suspicion. “Crawford has been less than forthcoming.”
Laura picked up a random page from the file and pretended to read. “From what I understand, temporary memory loss is typical of a concussion of this type.”
Foyle shifted in his seat. “She was found at the scene covered with Sanchez’s blood. She was with him when he died. No one else was reported in the area. To the best of our knowledge, the fey attacker did not use a gun. I asked her whether Sanchez said anything, and she told me she didn’t remember. I think it’s important to know his last words.”
Mariel nodded. “I do, too, Captain. Agent Crawford was wounded. Your man was killed. If something Sanchez might have said could lead to the perpetrator, InterSec wants that to happen, too.”
Foyle nodded, his body signature shifted into mild doubt. Mariel didn’t blame him. Despite the multiple-agency cooperation, humans worried about the motivations of the fey. “I appreciate that.”
Laura pursed her lips and nodded. “Let’s get started then. Please send in Lieutenant Gianni.”
She followed Foyle to the door and held it closed when he left the room. Pulling out her cell phone, she hit the speed dial for Foyle’s office. His voicemail picked up. Janice’s voice was a variation on Laura’s own, so she didn’t need to swap glamours to use it. “Foyle, it’s Crawford. My SUV blew a tire on the bridge. I’ll be there ASAP. Sorry.”
She disconnected and returned to her seat. She took several pages out of the file and laid them across the table without any organization. During the brief times she had been with Gianni as Janice, she knew he didn’t think much of women. Coming on strong would probably not work, so she decided her best course was to play into his condescension. Mariel Tate would act disorganized and indecisive. A knock on the door sounded. “Come,” she said.
Gianni stood at attention next to the chair Foyle had vacated. Laura gestured to it with an overly earnest smile. “My name is Mariel Tate, Lieutenant. I have a few questions for you regarding your recent mission.”
Gianni relaxed into the chair. She felt calm self-assurance from him, colored with impatience and cockiness. “Shoot.”
He tried to maintain eye contact with her, but failed. She picked up a page from his mission report. “Lieutenant, I’d like a few more details on your report. You state that you met Captain Foyle and Lieutenant Sinclair at the door to the warehouse workroom. Correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Who arrived first?” she asked.
“I believe they did,” he said. His voice had an odd sense, as if he were telling the truth yet lying.
“Together?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. They were there.”
She sorted through the papers, pretending she couldn’t find something. Foyle reported he had met Sinclair and Gianni at the door, so Foyle had to have arrived last, not Gianni. She lifted a sheet and smiled with relief. “Um… so you were alone from the time you left the computer lab until you met them?”
He nodded. Laura didn’t like the nod. Gianni projected resistance. While her empathy picked up emotions, hearing someone speak clarified the emotion.
“Okay,” she said. She sorted through papers again. “Who called the medics in?”
“Sinclair.” Fast. Assured. Truth. Sinclair’s report stated the same.
“Oh, right. There it is,” she said. She paused and read the report. The longer she read, the more amusement flowed off Gianni. “Okay, um, did you see anyone else near the door before or after you entered the room?”
Gianni shifted in his seat. “Just the medics.”
Laura nodded, staring at the report. “And… um… okay.” She switched to another report. “Lieutenant, how did you find the informant who provided information about the warehouse operation?”
He shrugged. “Street contacts. Sanchez put us onto someone.”
Lie, Laura thought. “Did you know Sanchez well?”
He shrugged again. “Well enough. We weren’t tight.”
“How would you rate his skills?”
“We’re SWAT,” he said. The phrase rang with pride, but the answer was an easy evasion.
With good reason, Laura thought. She leaned back and twisted a ring on her finger, looking uncomfortable. “Lieutenant, I need to ask an awkward question. Did you think Sanchez might have… let’s call it… had a lapse in judgment that led to his death and the wounding of Agent Crawford?”
Gianni stared at her, his eyes going cold. She sensed calculation in the look, a threat of false anger over insulting a colleague. “Sanchez knew what he was doing when he took the job. It only takes one little mistake for everything to go wrong, and he made his.”
Laura forced a blush to her cheeks. “Yes, I see. I meant no offense.”
“None taken, ma’am,” he said. Another lie, she thought.
She gathered up the reports and tapped them on the table. “Okay, then. My focus right now is on the events in the room where Sanchez died. I may need to speak to you again.”
Gianni stood. “Not a problem.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Could you send Agent Crawford in?” she asked.
Gianni hesitated. “Sure thing.”
When he was out of the room, Laura hurried to the door. She heard Gianni call out for Crawford, and a muffled reply from someone. She pulled out her cell and saw three calls to Janice from Foyle. She had a good idea what he had to say to her, so she didn’t bother listening to the messages. She hit his speed dial. The connection went immediately to voicemail. Foyle was on the phone. Laura’s phone beeped at the same time, and his name come up on the call waiting.
Laura created a small bubble of essence and nudged it into the phone. The speaker crackled with static. “Foyle, it’s me. Someone freakin’ messed with my tires. I’m waiting for a tow. Be there as soon as the truck shows up.”
She disconnected and resumed her seat. A moment later, Sinclair walked in. He had a tentative smile on his face that curiously faltered for a moment when he saw Laura. He extended his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Jonathon Sinclair.”
Laura returned the shake but did not get up. “Mariel Tate. I was expecting Agent Crawford.”
Sinclair took a seat without waiting to be asked. He seemed confused about something, preoccupied. “Lieutenant?”
Sinclair looked up. “I’m sorry, I was trying to recall something. Captain Foyle said Crawford is delayed and suggested I come in first.”
Laura pretended to consider the situation with a hint of annoyance. “Very well, Lieutenant.” She moved the folders on the table, then leaned back. “Tell me, Lieutenant, how you would have run the drug-raid mission differently.”
He looked surprised by the question but immediately focused on the idea. “We needed more people on the main entry and better intel. In retrospect, we relied too much on the druidess.”
“That would be Agent Crawford.”
“Yes. She was supposed to take out two brownie sentries,” he said.
“She did, though, didn’t she? One brownie was secured immediately, and the other turned out to not be what he seemed.”
“Yes,” Sinclair said. She felt a sense of doubt and hesitation.
“What do you think happened in that room, Lieutenant?”
He didn’t shrug like Gianni. He took his time to consider the question seriously, willing to offer his opinion. “I can’t say. I’ve read the reports. The preliminary report indicates that both Crawford and Sanchez were fired upon from the entrance to the room.”
“The timing and damage in the room suggest that Agent Crawford was engaged in the back of the room,” Laura said.
Sinclair nodded, but doubt lingered around him. Laura felt it whenever he said or heard the name Crawford. He had suspicions about her, vague, something undefined. She tried to think of anything she had done as Janice Crawford that might have prompted the emotion. Of course, being in the room when a teammate died might have had a lot to do with it. Laura glanced away in thought. “Lieutenant, present me with a plausible situation in which Agent Crawford shot Sanchez.”