Todd carried his coffee toward the door. “OK.”
Matt changed his mind about coffee. He’d had enough. Acid already swirled around in his stomach. He rinsed out the stainless-steel mug and filled it with water.
They walked down the hallway. Todd went into the monitoring room.
“I’ll be right there,” Bree said, heading for the restroom.
“OK.” Matt entered the interview room. At the table, a man and a woman sat next to each other facing the door.
“Ms. Rock.” Matt inclined his head toward Farah.
Without getting up, Farah gestured to the man beside her. “This is my attorney—and brother—Benjamin Rock.”
“I’m Criminal Investigator Flynn,” Matt said.
Farah looked like a different person. Instead of her climbing attire, she wore dark jeans and a black sweater. Her shiny, dark hair was tied in a loose ponytail and pulled over her shoulder.
The family resemblance between Farah and the attorney was obvious. Like his sister, he was olive-skinned and ultra-fit. His tailored charcoal suit and blue silk tie screamed money. He was no ambulance chaser.
“What kind of law do you practice?” Matt asked.
“Criminal.” Benjamin named a large, pricey firm from the city.
Fuck.
Matt had been hoping he was a corporate attorney who wouldn’t be as familiar with the criminal justice system. No such luck.
“Thank you both for coming.” Matt sat across from the lawyer. He’d let Bree have the chair opposite Farah. “The sheriff will join us in just a minute.”
“I have a meeting, so I can’t stay long.” Farah pointedly touched the screen of her phone to read the displayed time.
“The sheriff will be here soon,” Matt assured her.
“My sister already answered questions regarding Mr. LaForge’s death.” Benjamin rested his forearms on the edge of the table and interlocked his manicured fingers. “Which she shouldn’t have done without an attorney present.”
He was fishing for more information. Matt simply nodded.
The attorney scowled. “She wasn’t Mirandized.”
“She wasn’t a suspect.” Matt emphasized the past tense.
The attorney didn’t flinch, and Matt knew he would challenge any information they’d obtained in Farah’s first interview. Miranda warnings were required before questioning only if a suspect was in custody. But Benjamin wouldn’t be the first attorney to argue his client didn’t feel free to end the interview, which indicated they were actually in custody even if law enforcement hadn’t expressed it verbally.
The law was on Bree and Matt’s side, but much depended on the judge.
Bree walked into the room, took the seat across from Farah, and introduced herself. “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Rock.”
Matt introduced the suit.
The lawyer huffed. “As I just said to Investigator Flynn, my sister already answered questions.”
“Yes, and we appreciate her cooperation. Today’s interview will be recorded.” Bree started the video camera, gave the time, and listed everyone in the room. Then she read the Miranda rights and presented Farah with a form of acknowledgment to sign.
Alarm flashed in Farah’s eyes. “Am I being arrested?”
“No,” Bree answered. “The form is routine for all formal interviews.”
Worried, she glanced at her brother. “Should I sign this?”
“Yes.” The brother never took his eyes off Bree. “It means nothing. They recorded the sheriff reading you your rights. You can’t deny it.”
Farah signed with dramatic flourish. After setting down the pen, she shifted backward, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at Bree. “Why am I here?”
She sounded genuinely confused. Matt realized it hadn’t occurred to her that Rhys wouldn’t do what she asked. She assumed he’d follow her instructions. Was she accustomed to getting her way, to men doing what she wanted? Maybe she used their feelings for her to manipulate them.
Bree took the paper with a businesslike motion. “We have some follow-up questions to our earlier interview.”
“I already told you everything,” Farah whined.
“Yes.” Bree held up a typed paper. “So you said.”
The attorney leaned forward, his joined hands hitting the tabletop. “Would you get to the point, Sheriff?”
“Of course.” Bree nodded. “You told us that you were at home on Tuesday evening and that your friend Rhys was with you. Is that correct?”
Farah glanced at her brother, the first suggestion of doubt creeping into her eyes. “Yes.”
Bree dropped the bomb. “Rhys Blake says he wasn’t with you Tuesday evening. He says you called him and asked him to lie for you.”
Farah froze. Her mouth opened and remained gaped, like a fish struggling to breathe. “I—”
Benjamin cut her off, covering her hand with his. “Don’t say anything.”
Bree raised her brows. “Do you care to amend your statement? Lying to the police during a major investigation is obstruction of justice.”
Farah’s lips parted, but no words came out. She leaned closer to her brother, as if to whisper in his ear.
He shook his head to stop her. “Sheriff Taggert, does Mr. Blake have any proof of these accusations?”
Bree tilted her head. “His cell phone records will show he wasn’t with your sister.”
Benjamin smiled. “The records will prove where his phone was, not where he was.”
“It will prove where he used it,” Bree said.
“Where someone used it.” Benjamin squeezed his sister’s hand and turned his head to speak with her. “The sheriff doesn’t have any evidence tying you to the murder. If she did, she wouldn’t be fixated on disproving your alibi.” He released Farah’s hand. “You don’t even need an alibi. You haven’t been accused of a crime.” He turned back to Bree. “Right?”
Bree bared her teeth. No one could confuse it with a smile. “Your sister lied to law enforcement in an official investigation.”
“She could have been mistaken,” Benjamin said. “Or Mr. Blake could be mistaken. Did you record your first interview?”
Bree’s poker face didn’t budge. “No.”
“So, you have no evidence of anything my sister said,” Benjamin said an aha voice. “Maybe you were mistaken.”
Matt leaned in. “She wasn’t mistaken. I was also present. Farah asked Blake to lie for her.”
“So he says.” Benjamin didn’t sound concerned. “Or Mr. Blake is bitter because my sister rejected him and is getting even.”
She’d told him everything. Matt studied Farah. Her lips were mashed together, as if she were afraid she’d blurt out the wrong thing. But she was smart enough to let her lawyer do the talking. Some suspects couldn’t keep their mouths shut no matter what their counsel advised.
Benjamin lifted her hand an inch off the table. “Is my sister under arrest?”
“Not at this time,” Bree said.
“Then we’re leaving.” Benjamin pressed both palms flat on the table, preparing to rise. “Let’s go.”