Page 23 of Ice Cold Liar (Ice Breaker Cold Case #14)

Chapter Thirteen

“I told you to stay out of this case,” Madeline told Eb as she paced in the small police station at the edge of town. They were currently in one of the interrogation rooms, a tight and narrow space with a long mirror positioned along the left wall.

Eb thought that having him in interrogation was more than a bit of overkill, but, hey, if she wanted to put on a show for the locals, who was he to argue?

She’d flashed some official-looking government paperwork to the police chief and basically taken over the station.

The only cop who’d tried to stand up to her had been a very loud and vocal Detective Clark Anderson.

But he’d quickly been ordered to stand down by his chief.

After all, when the CIA rolled into town, you didn’t get to argue with them.

You just had to back the hell away or else they would mow right over you.

“I don’t remember you saying that, exactly.

” Eb kept his own voice cool as he continued to recline in the chair near the old, scratched table in the middle of the room.

A wobbly table. One leg didn’t seem to match up in height to the other three.

“You told me that the DA wasn’t filing charges against Naomi for the murder of her husband. ”

“I told you that this case was not related to our work. Not our jurisdiction. Not our wheelhouse.”

And, yet…here they all were. Right in the wheelhouse.

“In case you need a translation, when I said all of that? It meant don’t get your ass involved.” She stopped pacing. Exhaled—fine, she let out a long sigh. Her hair skimmed her jaw as she shook her head. “You were supposed to stay the hell out of things in Baton Rouge.”

They’d separated him from Naomi. Something Eb did not like. But he was trying not to show just how much the situation pissed him off. What happened between him and Naomi was their business. No one else’s.

“You came down here to prove the widow was guilty as hell, didn’t you?” Her hands were on her hips. One of her favorite poses. A pose that was reflected in the one-way mirror near her.

Eb had only glanced briefly toward that mirror once.

He wasn’t particularly in the mood to see his own reflection.

“That was the original plan I had, yes. I think I told you before that I’d handle things when it came to her.

” When she’d called to tell him that the DA had dropped charges, he’d told Madeline—specifically told her—that he’d be handling Naomi.

So why is Madeline here with a ground team? What is really happening?

Madeline sucked in her cheek. “How is that working out for you? The, uh, handling of things?”

“Got to admit, things are not necessarily going according to plan.” His plan had not included him being separated from Naomi. Was she being grilled in another interrogation room? Probably. But who was doing the grilling? A local cop or a trained CIA interrogator?

He still couldn’t believe that Naomi’s bat had been used to beat the Russian to death. What a clusterfuck.

Madeline strode toward him. She didn’t bother pulling out the other chair, though.

Instead, she hopped on the edge of the wobbly table.

It tilted beneath her weight. Her high-heeled feet swung lazily.

“Not according to plan, huh? Then you did not mean for the chief suspect’s house to nearly go up in flames?

” She rocked back and forth, testing the table as it wobbled beneath her and her swinging feet.

“The chief here should really spring for some new furniture.”

He doubted that the chief gave a flying flip about the wobbly table. With minimal effort, Eb kept his relaxed pose. “Are you asking me if I set fire to Naomi’s home?”

“Did you? Did you set the fire so that you could play hero and get her to trust you? Smart move, if so.” Admiration entered her voice.

“There is no faster way to gain a perp’s confidence than to convince the individual that you are a savior.

A confidant. A friend.” A pause. “Maybe even a lover?” One dark eyebrow quirked.

He smiled at her. He didn’t know Madeline’s age, and he damn well would never ask.

No wrinkle lines gave her away. Not so much as a hint of gray appeared in the darkness of her hair.

She was beautiful and smart and had been working for the Agency before he’d ever been recruited.

As far as he knew, she hadn’t done much field work.

Madeline enjoyed manipulating from behind the scenes.

She’d been his handler and Hudson’s. Sometimes, she’d been their only point of contact in a world that seemed to have gone straight to hell.

She’d always been there when they needed her. She’d never abandoned them. She’d also never told them the full story about many of their missions. Such was the way of the Agency.

“Did you find the evidence you needed?” Madeline asked him with a bob of her head. “Did you get proof that Hudson’s wife is a cold-blooded killer?”

Ice poured through her entire body. Naomi stared through the glass. She waited for Eb to throw back his head and laugh at the woman who sat so casually in front of him. If not laughter, a good denial that he’d never intended to prove Naomi was a murderer would have been outstanding.

Instead…

“Still working on it,” Eb admitted with a roll of his shoulders.

A roll of his shoulders.

Henry sat on Naomi’s right foot. His warm body pressed against her leg.

“But you’re gaining her trust?” The woman— Eb’s boss —pressed. “That’s the first step of your master plan?”

The drumming of Naomi’s heartbeat seemed terribly loud as it echoed in her ears.

“You don’t spill all your secrets to someone if you don’t trust them.

” Eb seemed almost bored with the whole scene.

“Isn’t that the first thing that the Agency teaches recruits?

You have to become anyone necessary in order to get the job done.

In this case, I decided to become Naomi’s hero. I played the hero for her.”

She wanted to back away. Or to raise her hands and pound against the thin glass and tell Eb what a bastard he was. Her insides twisted and her heart ached, and she could not believe that she’d actually been letting herself fall for a liar…a second time.

First Hudson.

Now Eb.

What was wrong with her?

Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice…shame on me.

She hated that old saying. Almost as much as she hated Eb in that moment.

“Thought you might like to hear what they had to say,” Clark told her.

He’d been the one to pull her from holding in the back of the station—that particular holding cell had certainly been familiar to her, almost like a second home—and to haul her to the small observation room.

As if she didn’t know that plenty of cops and the DA had watched her from this very perch during her marathon sessions with Clark.

Only this time, she wasn’t the one sitting at that interrogation room table. The table with one short leg that made the whole thing wobble. She was the one watching.

And getting my heart broken.

No, no, her heart could not be breaking. There was no way that she was in love with Eb. Not so soon. Absurd. She’d just—she’d fallen into his web. Not fallen for him. A huge difference. She hurt this way because she didn’t like being played for a fool.

I had sex with him. She’d trusted him enough for sex. The best sex of her life. And he’d been playing her the entire time.

“You real sure you were with that man every moment, Naomi? You absolutely sure you had eyes on him at all times?”

“I told you already.” She had said this before, but she’d say it again.

“I had a seizure last night after the fire. Eb insisted that I go to the hospital. When I returned to the guesthouse, Eb stayed with me. He was still with me when I woke up.” When we had insane sex.

“He was with me when we found Ivan’s body.

We went in the bar together.” Eb was her alibi. She was his.

“But you had to sleep, didn’t you?”

Her eyes were on Eb. She wanted to hear what he had to say. Hard to do with Clark chattering away in her ear. “Yes, I had to sleep.”

“How do you know that he didn’t sneak away while your eyes were closed?”

“Sneak away and beat Ivan to death with a bat?” She didn’t buy it. “Eb hardly seems the type to do that.”

“You just never know about someone, do you?” His shoulder brushed against her arm. “Will he alibi you the way you just alibied him? Or will he turn on you?”

He’s already turned on me. The truth was that he’d been against her from the very first moment, and she just hadn’t realized it. No, no, unfair. She’d suspected the truth. From the very first moment. After all, he’d been Hudson’s partner. But Eb had said he didn’t hate her…

Liar, liar. “Of course, he won’t turn on me.” Now she slanted a glance at a watchful Clark. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a murderer.”

“Pretty sure your initials are on the bat that was used to beat Ivan Sokolov to death.”

“Huh. How about that?”

Madeline’s feet swung lazily. “Just how hard are you working on it?”

He stared back at her. “Why are you in town?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

Her gaze slid to the one-way mirror. She smiled at her reflection. “The kind that is confidential.”

Sonofafuckingbitch.

His teeth snapped together, and in an instant, he was on his feet. “You didn’t.” He spun for the one-way glass. The stupid fucking mirror. His furious expression glared back at him. “ Naomi!”

She was there, just beyond the glass, he knew it. Knew it with absolute, soul-destroying clarity. His own boss had just set him the hell up. He surged straight for the glass. Could imagine that he saw her behind it. Could all but feel her pain reaching out to him. “Naomi!”

Madeline had been talking plenty, but the instant the conversation turned to CIA matters, she’d clammed up. Only one reason for her to do that…

The room is not secure. Someone else is watching.