Maybe…

Well, of course she would. Beth was her best friend, the only person she trusted inside Langley and maybe outside as well.

It’s not that Nicola had proof, per se. It was more of a gut feeling, but there were facts that couldn’t be denied. Blank extraction instructions. Gunfire after she jumped the window. The butler saying he didn’t want to kill her. Little things like that.

As interrogation rooms went, this one was standard. Nicola shifted in the uncomfortable chair, wondering how many sets of eyes watched as she sipped a Sprite.

Patience.

She needed a barrel of fortitude. The analysts and behaviorists were always looking for signs of… everything. She needed to send off a vibe of complete professionalism.

The door cracked, and Beth walked in. “Hey, girl.”

“Hey.” Nic smiled, not feeling it, but knowing the watchers in the wall expected it.

“Let’s debrief and go get a drink, though I have a feeling a few beers isn’t going to do it tonight.”

“I’d be okay if we sat in your office with a couple bottles of wine and straws.”

“Nice. Classy plan to match those nice threads you’re wearing.” Beth nodded approvingly at her new BCBG getup.

“Yeah, little shopping trip was required. So it goes. Designer label souvenir, I guess.”

“All right, start from the top. Antilla was shot. Go.”

Nicola recounted everything from that moment until she’d landed ass first in front of Titan’s Range Rover. Beth nodded encouragement, smiled like a supportive handler should, repeated a few things, but didn’t clue Nicola in on her thoughts. Nicola chatted her way right through the adventure until they were wheels down in Virginia, arriving at Langley.

Beth sat back for a minute, then pushed a pad of paper and a pen to her. “Smooth Enterprises. I know it’s earlier than we’d planned to break down the network, but map out the players you know.”

“I don’t know everyone. Antilla was everywhere at once, so it was hard to track who he was with and what they discussed. But I’ll give you what I know.” It took an hour and page after page of notes. Her hand cramped. She knew analysts would study her handwriting, looking for clues, deceptions, and unvoiced revelations. When she was done, Beth took the papers and left. At least she’d been supportive enough to sit there while Nic wrote.

Her Sprite was empty. She spun the aluminum can on its side. The hum of florescent lighting started in on her nerves. How much time had passed since Beth stepped out? An hour? Three? It could’ve been all damn day, for all the sense of passing time that she had.

I wonder what Cash and Roman said. I wonder where they are. The opening door pulled her from that thought tornado. Beth sat down, a tight smile marring her normally expressionless face. Shit, Nic didn’t need to be a facial expression expert to recognize that tension.

“Nicola, there’s nothing to suspect David—”