“Like I said,” I interrupt him. “I don’t watch TV and I had no idea this was going on.”

“What is it with your generation and the cord cutting,” the agent mutters under his breath. “I mean, what the hell do you do in your spare time if you don’t watch TV?”

“I like to read and watch Netflix,” I say innocently.

“Tell me what you know about his old partner.”

“I don’t know much. Nicholas never shared much with me. That’s one of the reasons we broke up.”

“Oh, really?” someone says, walking into the room. I look past the agent and see that the voice belongs to Art Hedison.

I swallow hard but don’t let him see me sweat.

“I happen to know that you and Nicholas are actually very close,” Art says, taking a seat in between me and the agent. I shrug.

For a moment, I consider pretending that I don’t know who he is but we had met, before his meeting with Nicholas at the mall.

“What’s that look on your face, Olive? Don’t you remember me?”

“I remember you questioned me about some paintings you thought I stole, which I didn’t,” I say.

He didn’t have any proof and was hoping to get some through his questioning but I didn’t give him any. And I won’t now.

“Olive, I know that you know that I was working with Nicholas. Everyone knows that.”

“No, I don’t,” I say with a shrug. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“This is going to go a lot more smoothly if you cooperate. We know that you are not involved with this, so you don’t have anything to hide.”

“If you know that, then why am I here?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”

“We want you to tell us about Nicholas. Anything you know.”

I take a moment to think about that. “I know that he didn’t kill anyone,” I say. “I know that you have the wrong person.”

“We don’t think so,” Art says, shaking his head, laying out the case that they have against him.

Millions were stolen.

People are killed for a lot less.

There’s video surveillance from a nearby store showing him in the area.

I listen to the whole story, thank him, and repeat that I don’t know anything about that.

On the outside, I act like I’m made of iron. Nothing can hurt me.

But on the inside, I’m trembling.

What if he did do that horrible thing?

What if Nicholas is a murderer like my brother has thought all along?

Hours pass as we go in circles, getting nowhere.

Two more agents try to get me to open up but I stand my ground. I ask for a lawyer and pressure them to press charges against me or to let me go.