table to the redheaded police officer who had popped in to check on her progress. "Still no luck."
"Okay. I'll get more books and bring you some coffee."
As the officer left, she rested her tender head in her hand. She doubted Gabe's picture would show up in any mug books. In spite of the robbery and kidnapping, his protective, considerate behavior wasn't consistent with a criminal's. Who knew? In any case, she wasn't about to let him hold her against her will, especially without an explanation.
The door opened and a huge, dark-suited man the size of a soda machine slipped inside. He flashed a gold badge. "Gregson, FBI." He slid his hulking form into the seat across from her and bobbed his head in a curt nod. "We're taking over this case."
The man's flat, hooded gaze locked on hers. A chill crawled over her and instant dislike prickled across her scalp.
Gregson pulled a pen and small black notebook from inside his jacket pocket. "Have you given your statement?"
She shook her head. "They're short handed. The flu epidemic that's going around. They asked me to look at mug shots first."
His nearly black eyes narrowed into slits, the reptilian gaze of a snake hypnotizing its prey. "So, you can identify him?"
Her instincts screamed mistrust. An intense desire to protect Gabe from this predator rose within her and she straightened in her chair. "No. He had on a ski mask."
His bushy black brows furrowed. "The entire six hours?"
She stared into those malignant eyes and lied. "Yes."
"Then why are you looking at mug shots?"
"I tried to tell them." She shrugged. "They're keeping me busy until they can get to me, I guess."
"What about his voice? Can you describe it?"
Every nuance of Gabe's warm, silky drawl burned in her memory. "Just a man's voice, nothing special."
"Do you know where he held you? Could you find it again?"
"It was dark. I stumbled onto the highway by sheer luck."
"Did he have the bags with him?" Though Gregson's tone remained level, he leaned forward, betraying his interest.
Goose bumps crawled over her skin. Something was very wrong. "I have no idea."
He steepled his thick fingers and stared at her over them. "You're not being very cooperative."
She managed another casual shrug. "I can't tell you what I don't know."
"A teller went home sick that day and you took over the vault." His eyes glittered as coldly as black ice. "Did you open the shipment before the perpetrator arrived on the scene?"
How did he know that? This had to be about the misplaced payroll checks. But why? And in order to know about the checks, he had to be involved. Her nerves thrummed on a surge of adrenaline. The bags had been sealed before she got them, and afterward, no one had seen the contents except Gabe. But this man was no friend of Gabe's; she knew that as well as her own name. "I didn't have a chance."
His fleshy lips compressed into a cruel line. "Stop the games. Your vault teller confirmed you counted the shipment. What was in the bags?"
He'd obviously done his homework. She swallowed down her rising unease and managed a dry chuckle. "Money, of course."
With surprising speed for a man his size, Gregson surged to his feet. He stalked over and stood behind her chair, silent and unmoving. She could feel his cold-blooded gaze drilling into the back of her head, and she clutched the edge of the table.
"Time for a private discussion." He gripped her arm and jerked her up. A gun barrel stabbed into her ribs. "We're leaving, without a fuss. There's a silencer on this piece, I'll drop you and disappear before anybody knows what happened. One squeak and you're dead, understand?"
Numb with disbelief and fear, she nodded.
The giant yanked her to the doorway, and peered out. She fought to control her breathing. Surely he wouldn't be able to abduct her from the police station! Someone would notice. Especially if she made a help-me face.
"Don't even think about trying to attract attention," he said as if he'd read her mind. "I have a buddy who works here. He tipped me off to your presence, and he'll make sure nobody sees us."
So much for someone noticing and coming to her rescue. Time to switch to Plan B. Problem was, what was Plan B? Her palms grew damp and her heart raced as Gregson hustled her down the deserted corridor and out the back. She needed a plan!
Outside, a motorcycle cop lounged on his bike with