this moment.
From the corner of his eye, Streeter watched as Liv gave Kelleher a hug, noticing the big smile on Kelleher’s otherwise tight lips. Streeter resisted a sigh, imagining his discussion with her about not only dressing appropriately, but also how PDAs were not typically warranted or expressed by professional agents. Especially first office agents. Then again, Liv Bergen was anything but typical.
As the BlueSky employees whispered to one another, Gates was settling into the chair beside Streeter across from the two men. Gates cleared his throat and leaned across the table toward Benson and Toby Freytag andsaid, “Half hour with you and you forget to mention the Williamses are on their way here?”
Toby Freytag’s eyes grew wide as he stammered, “I … uh.”
“When do they arrive?” Streeter asked.
“I … how would I know that?”
“Find out. You get your hands on their flight plans, the ETA, the name of their pilots, the time they left, the mechanic’s shoe size, everything you can on those two private jets,” Gates demanded.
“But I need to stay with Kevin or I’ll—”
“Now!” Gates interrupted, seeing a smile touch Streeter’s lips. “And make sure the instant their wheels touch down, you escort them to the room right next door to us and make sure we have plenty of seats for everyone. Immediately.”
“How can I do that? I don’t have the authority to—”
Gates was punching numbers on his phone. “My deputy is on his way. Deputy Eddie Heisinger. You’ll have the authority to do whatever you need to accommodate my requests. Now do what I said.”
Toby Freytag slunk out of the room with Kelleher, who Streeter knew would stick like glue to the BlueSky manager every minute until Deputy Heisinger was with him. Liv, still unnoticed by the distraught flight attendant at the table, closed the door. Streeter offered Liv a flicker of a once-over, not intended to mask the worry etched on his face. He made a mental note to personally throttle Linwood if he was responsible for her wounds.
Streeter cleared his throat, pushing away any thoughts of Liv or Linwood for later. Streeter clicked a couple buttons on the keyboard and started the video recording, announcing the time, date, location, and all persons present for the official FBI interview. Benson glanced over his shoulder at Special Agent Liv Bergen as Streeter announced her presence. His eyes grew wide at the announcement that this was an official FBI interview. Streeter might have let his glance linger a bit too long on Liv, who appeared impressively formidable even though this was her first time in an interview and he hadn’t had time to instruct her. She stood in front of the door. Her stony-faced expression, wide stance, lowered chin, and crossed arms made her look like a seasoned guard in a maximum-securityprison. And the cuts along her cheek highlighted with dried blood made the effect all the more convincing.
“State your full name, date of birth, and today’s date, please.”
“Oh crap. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” Benson buried his head in his hands, propping his elbows on the folding table.
“Mr. Benson?” Streeter asked.
“I want a lawyer,” he mumbled, making no more comments about being called “Mr. Benson.”
“And I want to be home with my family,” Gates said. “But I’m stuck with you and you’re not under arrest, so can we get on with the interview, please?”
Benson dropped his hands on the table. The heavy slap of skin against plastic echoed in the metal and tile room. “Great, just great. I’m not under arrest, but I am in trouble, aren’t I?”
“Not as much trouble as you’re going to be in if you don’t start talking,” Gates barked.
After working with his best friend for years, Streeter knew that Tony Gates had a cloudy perspective when dealing with cases involving children. He had a tendency to lose his temper, bully witnesses, and become agitated and impatient ever since the murder
From the corner of his eye, Streeter watched as Liv gave Kelleher a hug, noticing the big smile on Kelleher’s otherwise tight lips. Streeter resisted a sigh, imagining his discussion with her about not only dressing appropriately, but also how PDAs were not typically warranted or expressed by professional agents. Especially first office agents. Then again, Liv Bergen was anything but typical.
As the BlueSky employees whispered to one another, Gates was settling into the chair beside Streeter across from the two men. Gates cleared his throat and leaned across the table toward Benson and Toby Freytag andsaid, “Half hour with you and you forget to mention the Williamses are on their way here?”
Toby Freytag’s eyes grew wide as he stammered, “I … uh.”
“When do they arrive?” Streeter asked.
“I … how would I know that?”
“Find out. You get your hands on their flight plans, the ETA, the name of their pilots, the time they left, the mechanic’s shoe size, everything you can on those two private jets,” Gates demanded.
“But I need to stay with Kevin or I’ll—”
“Now!” Gates interrupted, seeing a smile touch Streeter’s lips. “And make sure the instant their wheels touch down, you escort them to the room right next door to us and make sure we have plenty of seats for everyone. Immediately.”
“How can I do that? I don’t have the authority to—”
Gates was punching numbers on his phone. “My deputy is on his way. Deputy Eddie Heisinger. You’ll have the authority to do whatever you need to accommodate my requests. Now do what I said.”
Toby Freytag slunk out of the room with Kelleher, who Streeter knew would stick like glue to the BlueSky manager every minute until Deputy Heisinger was with him. Liv, still unnoticed by the distraught flight attendant at the table, closed the door. Streeter offered Liv a flicker of a once-over, not intended to mask the worry etched on his face. He made a mental note to personally throttle Linwood if he was responsible for her wounds.
Streeter cleared his throat, pushing away any thoughts of Liv or Linwood for later. Streeter clicked a couple buttons on the keyboard and started the video recording, announcing the time, date, location, and all persons present for the official FBI interview. Benson glanced over his shoulder at Special Agent Liv Bergen as Streeter announced her presence. His eyes grew wide at the announcement that this was an official FBI interview. Streeter might have let his glance linger a bit too long on Liv, who appeared impressively formidable even though this was her first time in an interview and he hadn’t had time to instruct her. She stood in front of the door. Her stony-faced expression, wide stance, lowered chin, and crossed arms made her look like a seasoned guard in a maximum-securityprison. And the cuts along her cheek highlighted with dried blood made the effect all the more convincing.
“State your full name, date of birth, and today’s date, please.”
“Oh crap. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.” Benson buried his head in his hands, propping his elbows on the folding table.
“Mr. Benson?” Streeter asked.
“I want a lawyer,” he mumbled, making no more comments about being called “Mr. Benson.”
“And I want to be home with my family,” Gates said. “But I’m stuck with you and you’re not under arrest, so can we get on with the interview, please?”
Benson dropped his hands on the table. The heavy slap of skin against plastic echoed in the metal and tile room. “Great, just great. I’m not under arrest, but I am in trouble, aren’t I?”
“Not as much trouble as you’re going to be in if you don’t start talking,” Gates barked.
After working with his best friend for years, Streeter knew that Tony Gates had a cloudy perspective when dealing with cases involving children. He had a tendency to lose his temper, bully witnesses, and become agitated and impatient ever since the murder
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