Page 140 of Mr. Charming

“It’s better to tell them you have nothing to do with it sooner than later. I’ll go with you to back up your story and make sure you have a witness.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking into my eyes.

I nodded. He frowned.

“They told me you might be involved.”

“What? That’s crazy.”

“That’s what the agent said yesterday.”

“We definitely need to both go talk to them.”

“I wanted to make sure you knew what he said about you.”

“You don’t think I’m involved, do you?” I asked, upset.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. Can I finish my coffee before we get into an argument?”

“I don’t want to argue at all.”

“Good. Neither do I.”

We both sipped at our coffee. I kept stealing glances at him, wondering what it was about him that had me falling so hard and so fast.

*

I sat next to him in a plain, unassuming waiting room in the FBI building downtown. After dropping the man’s name who had talked to him in the alley, the security guard downstairs had shown us to the right floor. Cooper turned his head to look at me.

“If something happens, I’ve got your back.”

“I can’t wait to talk to this guy and see what he thinks he knows about me.”

“They might have been lying. We shouldn’t be talking. The waiting room might be bugged.”

I nodded my head then turned to face the only door in the tiny room. We waited.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a man in a black suit walked in. Cooper and I both got to our feet as he stared at me with a curious expression on his face.

“This is the female journalist who has nothing to do with it,” Cooper said.

“Come with me,” the man said.

“Can we get your name?” I asked.

“Mr. Sorenson. This way, please.”

He held the door open. Cooper stepped forward first. I met them in the hallway. The three of us walked down one hall then another. By the time we stopped at a door, I wasn’t sure where we had ended up in the building.

“Take a seat,” Mr. Sorenson said while adjusting the oval, wire-frame glasses on his face.

Something was off about him, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. As I sat down next to Cooper in another uncomfortable chair, I watched the man’s face for any signs of lying.

“Thanks for coming in,” he said, opening a folder on his desk. “As I said, if you give us information on what happened before, we will make sure you’re not charged with anything.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said.

“I thought you were a journalist not a lawyer,” Mr. Sorenson said with a chuckle. “Although they’re both kind of hated the same these days.”