Page 19 of The B-Team

“Not right now.” Rachel hesitated, feeling suddenly vulnerable. It wasnota state she was familiar with, neither was it one she enjoyed. “To be frank, I’m not sure what’s happening. I didn’t read up on giving birth. I just scheduled a C-section and called it done. My hospital appointment isn’t for another two weeks.”

Her lawyer arched an elegant eyebrow. “You do realize that isn’t how babies work, don’t you?”

Rachel lifted her chin. “It’s howthisbaby is going to work.”

Before the lawyer could say anything else, the interview room door opened, and DI Singh strode in, accompanied by another officer Rachel didn’t recognize. Not that she recognized many. There was no need.

“Ms. Ford-Talbot, Ms. Patel.” The DI took a seat on the opposite side of the table. The young man accompanying her sat beside her and took out a notebook. “Thank you for waiting. This is Detective Constable McManus; he’ll be taking notes today.”

Rachel didn’t bother acknowledging the man. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the DI. “I’m assuming your boss was too afraid to speak with me.”

DC McManus broke out into a cough and snatched up the glass of water in front of him.

“Commander Fitzwater,” DI Singh said evenly, “is a very busy man. Which means he runs tohisschedule, not the schedule of detainees brought in for questioning.”

Ms. Patel shifted in her seat, a ghost of a smile playing around her lips. “Would you like to start the recording and then say that again? That way, he can watch it later.”

DI Singh’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned into the microphone. “Interview started at ten twenty a.m.; present are DI Singh…” She nodded at the others, who said their names for the tape.

“So,” Rachel repeated, goading her. “Your commander’s too afraid to do this himself?”

DI Singh seemed to enjoy the challenge. “Commander Fitzwater is a very importantandbusy man. He doesn’t take instructions from detainees. He has his own schedule to maintain.”

For some reason, Rachel wanted to reach across the table and pat the woman on the head. Elle was right. Hormones were making her soft. She twisted in her chair, trying to get comfortable as pain throbbed in her lower back.

She turned to her lawyer. “Contractions. Do they happen in the front or the back? I have pain in my back.”

“I don’t have any children.” Ms. Patel looked pained.

The young constable cleared his throat. “It can be both, ma’am. My wife and I have three kids.”

“Really?” Rachel must be getting old because she could have sworn he was still a teenager.

The man mistook her meaning and nodded. “The main thing is to pay attention to how often you have the pains and how regular they are.”

“Thank you,” Rachel said because it seemed appropriate, and although most people thought otherwise, she did have manners.

“Do you need to go to a hospital?” DI Singh asked.

“Not right now.” Rachel sounded much more certain than she felt.

The DI’s face softened. “We could have our nurse examine you if that would help?”

“Dear Coco Chanel, no!” Rachel was horrified. “Who knows what the woman has contracted from the criminals she deals with every day.” There was a pause where her lawyer seemed amused and the officers offended. “Thank you, though,” Rachel added. This being polite thing was starting to grate.

“Could we get down to it?” Ms. Patel said into the ensuing silence. “What crimes exactly are you investigating in regard to my client?”

The inspector gestured to her constable.

He cleared his throat and read from a piece of paper in front of him: “Aiding and abetting cybercrimes—including unlawful collection of information. Inciting domestic terrorism, dangerous driving, threatening behavior, financing criminal enterprise, harboring wanted persons, and threatening a police officer.”

“Is that all?” Rachel asked when he was done.

DI Singh pinched the bridge of her nose before speaking. “Ms. Ford-Talbot, these charges carry long-term prison sentences. I suggest you take your situation seriously.”

Rachel rubbed the spot in her lower back that throbbed, her attention still firmly on the Detective Inspector. “We both know this is preposterous. These are trumped-up accusations by a petty little man whose ego was hurt by Lake Benson many moons ago. All this”—she waved a hand to indicate the whole process—“will do is waste everyone’s time and make several important people very irritated.”

DI Singh sighed. “We have a witness who says you threatened to chemically castrate him, using a drug your pharmaceutical company developed, to get him to give you information. That’s assault.”