Heart and Soul by Jackie May (reading list .TXT) 📗

With a humorless smile, she says, “I took your asset, Agent Davies, but I would never take your credit.”

“Wow, so…thank you, I guess?”

“In any case, now you get what you always wanted. Arael’s all yours.” Hillerman then makes an announcement to her staff. “Agent Davies will now educate us all in the art of interrogation, a skill which the FBI not only invented, but perfected over the course of the last century. We’ve had Arael Moaz in custody for over three months, and in that time, even with the use of powerful underworld coercion techniques, we’ve gotten absolutely nothing out of him. So I, for one, am eager to finally see somebody crack this egg. Agent Davies, the floor is yours.” The humorless smile returns to her lips, which I now want to slap clean off her sarcastic face.

I chuckle nervously. “Wow, no pressure or anything. So, okay…I just have a few questions. You guys are listening to his cell?”

“24/7.”

“Right, of course. You never know if demons might talk in their sleep, right?” I glance pointedly at Hillerman, and her smile drops flat. “But what I’ll need is for you to cut all the audio to that room.” Hillerman starts to protest. I talk over her. “I mean it. Not only will there be no recording, but none of you in here will be listening in to our conversation. When I get in there, I’m going to signal you, and you will cut the audio, got it?”

“Video stays,” Hillerman says. “Nonnegotiable.”

“Deal. Another thing—there’s guards down there?”

“Two. At the door.”

“Perfect. Inform them to leave the room, but only on my command. I want Arael Moaz to know that I’m in charge here. I’m above the FBI.”

“Done. Is that all?”

My foxy ears pick up on the approach of high heels outside the room, which reminds me: “No. I need one of your walkie-talkies.”

“What for?”

“For her.” I nod to the door, which opens to reveal the pretty cafeteria worker, now dressed in tight jeans, high heels, and a form-fitting hoodie. Her eyes are accentuated by dark liner, and her hair flows over her shoulders. The guys in the room openly gawk at her, which is just what I was hoping for. “When I signal to you on the walkie, go ahead and send her in.”

“In, where?” she asks with a trembling voice. “Into one of the cells? Is it safe?”

Hillerman is shaking her head. “Shayne, no.”

“Yes, into the cell, and yes, you’ll be safe, trust me. You won’t have to say a word. I just need for you to stand there, that’s all. Easiest bonus pay you’ll ever get.”

She brightens. “Bonus pay?”

“Absolutely, but don’t make that face. When you come in, just look serious. No, look…” I try to think of the right description. “Look broody, like you’re perpetually pissed off.” I frame Hillerman’s face with my hands. “Here! Just like this, see?”

The girl, bless her little heart, tries to mimic Hillerman’s pout, which makes Hillerman bristle, and then the girl actually tries to mimic her bristle!

“Yes!” I exclaim. “Perfect.”

The entire staff is doing their damnedest to stifle their giggles. Hillerman clamps my elbow in a vice grip and marches me out into the hall. “Why don’t you want us listening in? What are you going to ask him?”

“Look, you’ve withheld plenty of intel from me. Now it’s my turn. If and when you need to know, I’ll let you in on it. For now, all you need to do is give me twenty minutes alone with him, then come crash the party with all your jurisdiction bullshit. From there, I’m counting on fireworks, which should come naturally between us, as always.”

She gives me a searching look. “Tell me something. Is it your belief that I don’t trust you? That I don’t like you?”

It’s a haunting question, reminding me of the “other” Hillerman who spoke to me at the kitchen table. I know this may be hard to believe, Shayne, she had said, but the truth is, she genuinely likes you. “No,” I say. “I don’t think that. What I think is that maybe there’s something about your life that you don’t like. Maybe something you can’t really control, and that must be frustrating for you.”

After what seems like an eternity of just looking at each other in silence, Hillerman leans in close and lowers her voice. “If there’s something I said…in my sleep—anything at all—you need to tell me right now.”

I heave a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, it’s just…it’s a little embarrassing, that’s all.”

She leans in even closer. “Yes? What? What is it?”

“Well, there was, like, heavy breathing, and a lot of moaning the name Russo.”

Hillerman steps back and pinches the bridge of her nose, as though a migraine has suddenly sprouted.

“What? I’m just saying think about it. Russo likes you. I’ve never seen him so loopy for a woman before.”

“I’m giving you ten minutes alone, then I’m coming in.”

“Only ten?”

“You’re already wasting time.” She flings open a door to a dark closet, slaps a walkie-talkie into my hand, and walks away.

“In there? Are you kidding?” I step into the closet, where a black iron staircase spirals down through the floor. It’s so dark, I can’t see shit, and the spiral staircase seems never-ending. Clunk, clunk, clunk—step after metal step, I descend into the bowels of the ship. My sensitive ears prick at the sounds of groaning steel from the massive hull pushing through thick, icy water. When at last I reach the bottom, I pause in front of a bulkhead door to gather my confidence. I hadn’t planned on how scary it would be down here. Pitch black and echoing like a cave.

After a deep breath, I knock on the bulkhead. The hatch release spins and the door opens with a deep screech from rusted hinges. When I step through the hatch, I can’t see the whole space because of the darkness, but I can feel the vastness of the cargo hold. It feels like I’ve just