The Heart Has Reasons (35 page)

Larissa
unstuck her throat enough to manage a “No, thank you.”  With a rapidly
increasing sense of trepidation, she watched as Sengupta fiddled with a small
video camera perched atop a long-legged tripod.

“We’re
going to record your deposition,” Jarvis explained.  Once Sengupta had
taken a seat next to Jarvis, he stated his name and the date and then Sengupta
followed suit.  To Larissa, he said, “State your full name for the camera,
please.”  Once she’d done so, he said, “First of all, please allow me to
express our regret for all that you’ve been through.  Now, if you’d please
give us the details of everything that happened.”

“Where
shall I start?”

“At
the beginning.”

Jarvis’
reassuring demeanor emanated such strength and comfort that she’d have to be
cautious not to inadvertently drop her guard.  Silently cursing the tremor
in her voice, she began.  “Two years ago, I woke up to an intruder in my
bedroom…”

The
two agents let her tell her story, listening intently and interrupting only
occasionally to clarify something.  Adhering mostly to the truth while
recounting her days of captivity, she omitted perforce only the incident with
the state trooper, the seduction of her kidnapper and the subsequent flight
through the woods, and this morning’s incident with the gang-bangers.

Her
kidnapper
.

Why
hadn’t she asked his name before they’d parted?  And if she had, would he
have told her?

When
she arrived at the point where he’d delivered her to Sparrow and began
recounting the fabricated version of events, a glacial shroud seemed to
envelope her.  She was lying to federal agents — agents who were merely
trying to help her.  Blinking back the tears that threatened, she
continued to the point where the police had arrived at the estate.

Jarvis
said, “Tell us everything you remember about your abductor.  Spare no
detail, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.”  After
she repeated the description she’d given to Detective Fahey, both agents began
to question her, interminably going over what she’d already told them.

Upon
a discreet tap, a young male agent with the long pointy nose, weak chin, and
protruding ears of a rat opened the door.  Directing a meaningful glance
at Jarvis and Sengupta, he jerked his head toward the hallway.

The
door closed behind the agents with a depressingly solid thud.  Despite her
fatigue, nervousness rose through her like fog seeping from the ground. 
Now what?  Painfully aware of the video camera still recording, she tried
concentrated on not fidgeting.

After
an interminable amount of time, the two agents rejoined her.  Jarvis’
previously sympathetic eyes now regarded her with undue interest and
speculation.  “After you shot Sparrow, how much time elapsed before you
called the police?”

Ah,
crap.  It should have occurred to her that the medical examiner would
pinpoint the time of Sparrow’s death.  “I’m not sure,” she said
hesitantly.  “I may have fainted.  I shot him and, the next thing I
knew, I was waking up on the floor.”

Jarvis’
expression was unreadable.  “You never mentioned that fact before.”

“I’d
forgotten it until just now.”

“Anything
else you’ve forgotten to mention?” Sengupta demanded.

Uncertainty
sluiced through her like ice water.  The agents evidently knew something —
something she herself was missing.  But what?  “I don’t think so.”

Sengupta
now radiated hostility.  “There’s no incident you’ve neglected to
mention?”

Incident?
 
What incident?
  She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to wipe away
the fatigue.  “No.”

As
the agents stared at her, she forced herself to gaze resolutely back at
them.  A leaden, protracted silence descended over the table like a dark,
heavy cloud.  Aware that this was a technique used by law enforcement to
provoke suspects into filling the silence with nervous chatter — chatter that
often served to incriminate them — Larissa obstinately clamped her mouth shut.

When
it became obvious she wasn’t going to oblige them with an outpouring of anxious
verbosity, Jarvis said, “The Charleston police have verified your story about
what happened there two years ago.”  When she maintained her stubborn
silence, he added, “You’ll be happy to know there’s an APB out on your
abductor’s vehicle.”

Her
heart skipped a beat as adrenaline spiked into her system.  She croaked,
“I nev—”  Clearing her throat, she started again.  “I never saw the
exterior of his van, so how could you put an APB on it?”

“We
got the description from the young men your abductor assaulted.”

The
thugs had gone to the police?  That was a possibility she’d never considered. 
Willing her face to stay impassive, she prayed the two agents couldn’t hear the
hammering of her heart.  “What young men?”

“You
really expect us to believe you don’t know?” snapped Sengupta.

Larissa
shook her head as a chill worked its way assiduously up her spine to curl at
the base of her neck.  She drummed her fingers on the table, caught Jarvis
starring at the nervous motion, and withdrew the hand to rest it in her lap.

Sengupta
leveled the black pupils of those canny eyes upon her like twin gun
barrels.  “The young men who attempted to rescue you this morning.”

“Now
you’ve lost me.  There was no rescue attempt.”

Sengupta
leaned across the table toward her.  “So you’re telling us that another
woman who, coincidentally, perfectly fits your description, was tied up and
gagged in the back of a panel truck at around the same time you were? 
What a remarkable concurrence of events.”

Larissa
gazed back with an assurance she was far from feeling.  “Don’t you think
if something like that had happened, I would’ve mentioned it?”

“Why
would they invent such a story?”

“How
would I know?  Trying to portray themselves as heroes?  Attempting to
divert attention from something else?  Whatever the reason, they’re
lying.”

Sengupta
snapped, “The only one lying is you, so
cut the bullshit
.”

Having
apparently forgotten that she’d spent the afternoon in a terrifying struggle
for survival, Sengupta was sadly deluding herself if she thought she could
bully her into a confession.  Deliberately shifting her worry to defiance,
Larissa arranged her mouth into her best imitation of a mocking smirk.
 “You know, Agent Sengupta, you’d really be much more effective coming off
as sympathetic and commiserating.  Agent Jarvis should be playing the role
of ‘bad cop’ since he, at least, has the physical size to come off as
threatening.  Plus, after all that’s happened to me in the past few days,
I’m probably feeling vulnerable and intimidated by men in general. 
Despite the tough-guy act and the butch haircut — which, by the way, would be
more effective gelled up into punky spikes — you’re simply too
girly
to
be believable.  I seriously doubt you could intimidate a grade-schooler
out of his lunch money.”

Larissa
forced herself not to flinch when the woman lunged out of her seat. 
Jarvis barked, “
Sengupta!
” halting the agent’s progress halfway across
the table.  Sengupta reluctantly retook her seat, dark eyes molten.

A
sharp knock broke the gravid silence, and the door opened.  The same
rodentine agent as before appeared framed in the doorway, his eyes lingering
inquisitively upon Sengupta before settling on Jarvis.  “The police
located a panel truck matching the description of the one your suspect was
driving,” he announced, eradicating Larissa’s momentary smug complacency. 
“They have the driver in custody.”

Jarvis’
dark face lit up.  “Assemble some men for the line-up.”

Panic
thudded in Larissa’s chest and pinched off her breath.  “How am I going to
pick him out of a line-up when I never saw his face?”

“You
may not have seen his face, but you’ll be able to recognize his body, his walk,
his voice.”

The
prescription inhaler she’d gotten at the hospital was in the garbage bag
resting at her feet.  She rummaged through the dirty clothes until she
found it, and sucked in a lungful of mist.  Apparently misunderstanding
her apprehension, Jarvis added, “Don’t worry, he’ll be behind one-way
glass.  He won’t be able to see you.”

* * * * *

Larissa had to wait nearly an hour while
they brought in their suspect and assembled enough men to fill out the
line-up.  She was cold again, and had to expend a conscious effort to keep
from shivering.  Forcing her shoulders back and her head high, she
followed the two agents down the corridor, feeling as though they were leading her
to the gallows.

Please
don’t let it be him
.

They
led her into a small room with a curtained window.  Her heart hammered
with such force that her chest ached dully with each beat.

“Are
you ready?” Jarvis asked.  At her nod, he added, “Remember, he cannot see
you.”

He
drew back the curtains and there her kidnapper stood as if he had not a care in
the world.  The placard hanging on his chest proclaimed him number three
of six, but she barely registered the other five men.

He’d
changed out of the gray tee shirt and jeans he’d been wearing earlier, and into
a black tee and khakis but, even if he’d been wearing a clown suit, she would
have recognized his tall, imposing frame immediately.  He was a ruggedly
handsome but dangerous-looking man, his face all sharp angles and planes. 
A silvery scar slashed across one cheekbone, heavy five-o’clock shadow darkened
his jaw, and a large, mottled bruise discolored his temple.

The
bruise surprised her for a moment, until she remembered bashing him with the
rock.  Had it really been only last night?  It seemed ages ago. 
Although it must have hurt like hell, he’d never uttered one word of complaint.

She
stared at him, committing his face to memory until she realized the two agents
were gazing expectantly at her.  Tearing her attention from him, she
pretended to study the five other men in the line-up.

While
nausea coiled in her stomach like a venomous serpent, she watched as, one by
one, the six men stepped forward to say, “Do exactly as you’re told and I won’t
hurt you.”  Each then turned to walk back and forth across the room,
before returning to his place in line.

When
the sixth man stepped back into line, she said, “He’s not there.”

The
two agents exchanged sharp glances.  Jarvis asked, “Are you
sure
?”

If
they could somehow prove she was lying, what would they do to her?  Would
they charge her with a crime?

Could
she go to prison?

Another
dizzying wave of nausea rolled through her.  “I’m positive.”  She
turned back to the window.  “Number One is too thin, and a little too
short.  Number Two is too stocky, and too blond.  Number Three is too
dark, too muscular, and too tall.  Number Four and Number Six both have
too much belly.  Number Five could almost be him, except that his forearms
are way too hairy and his voice is all wrong.”

The
two agents once again exchanged glances, obviously not believing her. 
Jarvis stepped closer and she forced herself to stand her ground as his eyes
bored down into hers.  “You’ve emphasized the fact that your abductor
treated you well.  Is it is possible you’re now trying to protect him out
of a misplaced feeling of gratitude?”

Ignoring
her cartwheeling stomach, she looked him straight in the eye.  “The
son-of-a-bitch drugged me, tied me up and gagged me, transported me clear
across the country, then turned me over to a psycho who planned to kill
me.  There’s no way in hell I’d protect him.”

CHAPTER
24

A chill flowed through Chase’s body,
tightening his chest and making his heart beat in quick, hard thumps. 
After the line-up, two humorless FBI agents had locked him in this
interrogation room and he’d now been here for over an hour.  Despite the
fact that he’d committed a heinous act beyond pardon, he had no intention of
confessing.  Doing so would be tantamount to surrender.

When
the door abruptly opened, he steeled his face into impassivity as a different
pair of agents entered.  Skipping the preliminaries, the large black man
said, “I’m Special Agent Jarvis.  This is Special Agent Sengupta. 
We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Certainly.”

Sengupta’s
intense, exotic features were too strong for conventional beauty, while her
close-cropped dark hair and unyielding bearing suggested that she was
overcompensating for being female in a mostly male environment.

Square-chested
and thick through the shoulders, Agent Jarvis topped his own six-two by a
couple inches, while his buzz cut lent him an air of military authority. 
Although his expression was friendly, Chase was not fooled.  Jarvis had
the merciless eyes of a predator.

As
they settled into seats around the table, Jarvis asked, “Do you know why you’re
here?”